by A. J. Wynter
Wingmen are a Girl’s Best Friend
A.J Wynter
Contents
Also by A.J Wynter
1. Faith
2. Leo
3. Faith
4. Leo
5. Faith
6. Leo
7. Faith
8. Leo
9. Faith
10. Leo
11. Faith
12. Faith
13. Leo
14. Faith
15. Leo
16. Faith
17. Leo
18. Faith
19. Leo
20. Faith
21. Leo
22. Faith
23. Leo
24. Faith
25. Leo
26. Leo
27. Faith
28. Faith
Epilogue
Second Chances - Chance Rapids, Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Connect with A.J
Copyright 2021 by AJ Wynter - All rights reserved.
Editor: Theresa Banschbach www.icanedit4u.com
Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
* * *
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third party websites or their content.
All sexual acts within the book are consensual and the characters are 18+.
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Created with Vellum
Also by A.J Wynter
Laketown Hockey Series
Not a Player
Hating the Rookie
The Coach Next Door
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Chance Rapids Series
Second Chances
One More Chance
Accidental Chances
A Secret Chance
Reckless Chances
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Titan Billionaire Brothers
For Richer, For Poorer, Book 1
For Richer, For Poorer, Book 2
* * *
Her First Time Series
The Biker’s Virgin
The Mountain Man’s Virgin
The Rancher’s Virgin
About Wingmen are a Girl’s Best Friend
I. Don't. Date. Hockey. Players.
* * *
Full Stop.
No Exceptions.
I grew up in this town and I know exactly what these Laketown hockey players are all about:
Puck Bunnies, parties, and hockey.
They live, breathe, and die for the game.
Girlfriends are an afterthought.
How do I know all this?
My best friend is the Laketown Otters' Star Wingman.
Or, at least he was my best friend, until he abandoned me when I needed him the most.
Rumor has it he wants to be back in my life, but this time, that jerk wants more than friendship...
Wingmen are a Girl’s Best Friend can be read as a standalone, or as book 4 in the Laketown Hockey Series.
One
Faith
Spring was the worst of all the seasons in Laketown. Even though it was June, there was still a chill in the air, enough to bite and turn the rain into sleet, but not cold enough for flakes to fall. It was the perfect recipe for a season of mud, black flies, and mosquitos. I didn’t want to be home.
“Think positively, Faith,” I whispered to myself as I turned up the radio. One of the two radio stations available in Laketown crackled through the speakers. Country music reminded me of two people I didn’t want to think about, so I opted for the other station which was playing Hotel California, and turned up the volume, squinting as I ventured onto the main street of my hometown.
Mom’s house looked the same as when I’d left to go back to Chrysanthemum College for my final semester of design school. Mud squelched under the soles of my red rubber boots as I made my way to the front porch of my childhood home, or rather, what was now my current home. At least, until I could figure out how to get out of there.
“Mom?” I shouted. The screen door groaned, resisting as I pulled it open. The springs of the door sounded as sad as I felt to be home. Dad had been missing for over a year now, and all the small things, like the way he would’ve appeared at the door wielding a can of WD-40 to grease the hinges, reminded me that he was gone.
Sometimes I wished that he was dead. I hated that thought, but at least then I would know where he was. My dad was an accomplished hunter and outdoorsman; it didn’t make sense that he just walked into the woods and never returned.
The house was silent. “Mom?” I shouted, my voice echoing off the cathedral ceiling. I dropped my duffel bag, kicked off my boots, and headed for the kitchen. As I opened the refrigerator, I smiled; aluminum foil-covered casserole dishes lined the shelves. I’d inherited my eye for design from my mom, but I most definitely did not inherit her cooking skills. I grabbed a fork and crammed a bite of apple pie into my mouth while standing in the bright light of the fridge. I put the pie back on the shelf but noticed that the fork had left a jagged mark in the pie. I reasoned that another bite cut meticulously with the side might hide the fact that I’d eaten right out of the tray. When that didn’t work, I gave up, got out a knife, and sliced myself another piece, solving two problems: one, my hunger, and two, masking the distinctive, I-just-ate-pie-from-the-tray evidence.
The creaky door announced my mom’s arrival. I slammed the fridge door shut and sat down at the marble-topped island. Mom’s arms were around me, squeezing me before I could even get up from the barstool. My mom, or Mel D as she was affectionately known in town, was in her fifties, but had the arms of a twenty-year-old CrossFitter. “Mom, my ribs!” I inhaled as she hugged me a little tighter before letting go.
“I’m so happy you’re home.” Mom took the pie out of the fridge and sliced me another piece.
I leaned back and patted my belly. “I couldn’t.”
She didn’t listen. “You ate your pie without ice cream? Or cheddar?”
“Mom,” I groaned. “I swear, you’re the only weirdo I know who puts cheese on her pie.”
She held up the brick of old cheddar. “Have you ever tried it?”
I hadn’t. The idea just seemed completely bonkers. “I’ll take the ice cream.” I smiled, knowing that one of the two was going to end up on top of the pie whether I liked it or not. The gas stove clicked as my mom lit a burner and put the kettle on to boil. That’s when I noticed that, including my slice of pie, there were three pieces on the island.
“Are you expecting company?” I pointed at the third plate.
Before she could answer, the screen door announced another visitor. I looked to my mom and then to the door, my heart in my throat. I still hoped to see my dad’s smile, his graying beard, and his favorite camouflage hat appear in the foyer. My heart sank a little when it wasn’t him, but quickly soared when I saw Amber, my mom’s designer, and one of my closest Laketown friends, kicking off her rubber boots.
My sock
feet were slippery on the pine floorboards as I rushed to the door. “Amber!” I couldn’t stop myself from squealing her name.
“Faith, I heard that you were home.” She grinned and opened her arms wide. The woman was so tiny I had to resist the urge to pick her up. We hugged like it had been years, rather than months since we had last seen each other.
“Zeesh.” Her voice was muffled by my shoulder.
I released her from my bear hug, and she rubbed her arms. “Who are you, Hercules?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but smile. I guess Mel D wasn’t the only one who crushed her loved ones with hugs.
“How did you know I was in Laketown?” I asked. Amber and I were close, but both of us were terrible at keeping in touch.
“Are you kidding? It’s all Mel D has been able to talk about for the last month.”
“Guilty.” My mom shrugged. She scooped the vanilla ice cream onto our pieces of pie and placed a slice of cheddar on her own.
I wasn’t excited to be back in Laketown, but I was happy to be able to hang out with Amber again. The two of us didn’t even have to speak; we knew what the other was thinking. Just then, Amber was probably wondering who the hell puts cheddar cheese on apple pie.
“How was your drive?” she asked.
The kettle whistled and my mom popped two Earl Grey tea bags into the pot, finished her weirdo pie combo, and rinsed her plate off in the sink. “I’ve got to go.” She gave me another death squeeze. “I’m so happy you’re home, kiddo.”
Amber finished chewing her bite of pie. “Yates?” she asked.
“Who else?” My mom shook her head and was out the door like it was a time trial.
I dragged the fork across the scoop of ice cream. “What’s that all about?” I asked.
“The Yates job,” Amber said. She took a bite of her pie and moaned. “This crust…”
I wasn’t going to let her change the subject so quickly. “What about the Yates job?” I asked. The Yates cottage was iconic — the biggest and most ostentatious ‘cottage’ on Lake Casper. The Yates were old oil money, and their cottage was over thirty thousand square feet. My mom had recently been hired to help with the design of a new bunkhouse for one of their grandchildren.
“The estate manager is a real, um…” Amber seemed lost for the word.
“Asshole?” I finished. “I know. She’s a real piece of work.”
Amber laughed. “That’s putting it lightly. Your mom tried to pass on some of the work to me, but they will only deal with Mel D, not her underling.”
This didn’t surprise me. Although, they were missing out. My mom was a great spatial designer, but Amber had an eye like I’d never seen. “Are things busy?”
“Crazy.” Amber scraped the plate to get every last crumb onto her fork. “Are you going to finish that?” She pointed to my untouched second piece of pie.
“I’ve already had one.” I laughed. “Mel D is trying to fatten me up just in time for bathing suit season.” I slid the plate to Amber, wondering how the hell she stayed so tiny.
“I missed you, Faith.” Amber smiled. “After you went back to college, Laketown didn’t seem the same.”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. It’s exactly the same.”
“No.” Amber smiled. “It’s not. The snow is gone.”
Amber had moved to Laketown from Florida before Christmas and had never experienced summer in this cottage town. Sleepy, wintery Laketown was about to turn into a playground for the rich and famous, as evidenced by the arrival of the Yates family.
“And it’s been replaced with mud.”
“You just wait.” I smiled. “You have no idea how crazy this place gets in the summer.”
“I’ve heard.”
I poured us each a cup of tea and stirred in some local honey. “How’s work going for you?” I asked.
“It’s great. I’m heading up a renovation at Pine Hill.” Amber shifted on her barstool and took a sip of her tea. “I was hoping that you could help me with it.” She smiled. “That is if you’re not pulled onto the Yates job.”
Amber’s naivete was sweet. “Amber, we’re both getting pulled onto that Yates job. But yes, I would love to help you with Pine Hill.” I took a sip of my tea. “On Monday.”
“Of course,” Amber laughed. “Your mom said we might have to work some weekends this summer, but I guess she’s giving you this one to get settled.”
“Do we still have to organize the storage units for the seasonal décor?”
Amber grinned. “I saved that job just for you.”
The two of us had added a Christmas decorating service to Mel D Designs over the winter, and when I’d headed back to school, we had shoved all of the decorations into five very big storage units. I’d left with the promise that I would come back and organize everything. I’d been not so secretly hoping that Amber would get sick of the chaos and it would be done when I returned.
“There’s no big rush, just as long as you’ve got it done by…” she tapped her finger on the marble countertop, “October.”
“Oooh.” I pretended to wince like it was impossible.
“I’m serious.” Amber smacked my bicep with the back of her hand. “We’re booked solid for the holidays already.”
Amber looked at her watch, took our plates, and rinsed them off in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher. “I have to go, I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”
“Where do you have to rush off to on a Friday afternoon?” I asked. “We need some serious catching up time.”
“We do,” she agreed. “But I have to pick Chloe up from school.”
“Right.” I had forgotten that my friend was basically a new stepmom.
“But I could meet you for a drink at Valerock later. They have a decent Chardonnay on the wine list.”
“I could use a glass right now.” I made a face at my tea mug.
“Don’t start without me.” Amber shoved her feet into her boots. “I’ll meet you there at seven.”
“Seven.” I nodded, following Amber to the front door. “How’s Coach?” I asked.
“Good,” Amber gushed. Her cheeks turned pink at the mention of his name, and I was reminded just how much she adored her man.
“Faith,” Amber paused on the top step of the screened-in porch. “Who else knows that you’re back in town?”
It seemed like an odd question. “No one. I mean unless my mom has taken out an ad in the Laketown Gazette announcing my triumphant return to Mel D Designs.”
Amber tilted her head. “I think that’s scheduled for next week’s edition.”
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “I was totally joking.”
Mom and I had different plans. I was going to work for her this summer and then get the hell out of this town and start my own firm in the city. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but I knew that my mom wanted me to take over Mel D Designs and move back to Laketown permanently. It was going to break her heart when I told her that I was leaving, but she would get over it. I mean, how could she expect me to settle in this tiny town, the place I had spent my entire life trying to leave. There was nothing for me in Laketown.
Amber gave me a sly grin. “There are some cute new players. Have you heard of Gunnar Lockwood?”
“Oh, please.” I shook my head. “Amber, you know better than that. I. Don’t. Date. Hockey. Players.”
Her eyes flashed. “Who said anything about dating?” She gave me a sassy tilt of her shoulders and then skipped down the stairs.
“Amber!” I was shocked. “Who are you right now?” I shouted.
“You’re young, Faith. It’s the summer. Why don’t you just have a little fun?”
Amber was with the coach of the Laketown Otters. Not a player. She’d never even met a hockey player before she moved to town. “No way in hell, Amber.”
“Never say never.” She waved and jogged to Coach’s Jeep.
“Never,” I whispered under my breath as I waved back. I
saw how the players operated. The whole damn town doted on them. I had never wanted a player, never been with a player, would never date a player.
I realized I’d said never three damn times, and shook my head as I headed inside to unpack my bags. Players cared about one thing and one thing only.
Making it.
Not with a woman, no — making it to the National League. Women were an afterthought. There was a reason they liked puck bunnies so much. The bunnies knew their place, and even if they didn’t admit it themselves, they had to know that they were disposable — someone to pass the time until the players left town, which they always did. And they never took their bunnies with them.
My blood started to boil just thinking about the players — and one in particular. I dumped the contents of my suitcase onto the blue and white quilt and proceed to angrily hang all of my clothes up in the closet. There was nothing like a little anger to help get things organized.
As I shoved the hangers into the closet, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the bunnies genuinely thought the players cared about them. But I knew better. Growing up, I’d had an inside track into the mind of a player. I’d grown up with one — doubled on a bicycle with one, built tree forts with one, shared all of my hopes and dreams with one. I was best friends with a hockey player. Or I should say, I WAS best friends with a hockey player. I didn’t want to think about him. Even thinking about his name brought up a complex mix of emotions, mostly anger and sadness.
