Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3)

by G. K. Brady

  “Guess I worked up an appetite after all.” He sent her a wink and turned to the waitress to order chicken and bacon cheddar waffles and a large orange juice. “And this,” he circled his finger over the table, “is on me.”

  “You did work up an appetite,” Lily mumbled. With a sweet smile, she ordered Swedish crepes, a side of bacon, and a strawberry milkshake. When the waitress was gone, she turned the smile on Gage. “Thank you. For breakfast, I mean.”

  “Of course. My pleasure. In fact, I wanted to buy you breakfast that morning, but you left before I got the chance to offer.” Might as well just get it out there. “Why did you leave?” Taking a sip of his coffee, he watched her with curiosity over the rim of his cup. Would he finally get his explanation?

  She tugged out the gold chain he’d forgotten about and slid the ring up and down.

  “Was I snoring?” he persisted. “Did I do the crocodile roll one too many times and steal the covers?” Though I recall very little of covers … or sleeping, for that matter. He hesitated a tic before asking the next question. “Was I that bad?” He lifted the carafe and topped off their coffees.

  If it were possible, her face instantly went a brighter shade of pink. “No! None of the above! You were … It was … I really enjoyed our time together. It’s just … my life’s, um, complicated.”

  He wagged his head back and forth. “Whose isn’t? Look, when I woke up … I really wanted to see you again.” No point in soft-soaping my disappointment.

  Directness, he’d found, was usually the quickest way to the truth. Maybe it was part of his makeup after years of being raised by a mother whose approach to communication was of the let’s-tiptoe-around-the-elephant-in-the-room variety. Lots of confusion and frustration had given birth to a just-say-it-like-it-is approach.

  “You’re seeing me now.”

  Apparently, dodging was more Lily’s style. Sitting back, he glanced at their reflections in the window. “Six months later,” he muttered.

  Hesitation flitted across her face. “So, um, do you have a steady now?”

  “Nope.”

  She slipped the chain back into its hiding place. “Friends with benefits?”

  Wow. Bold much? Was it any of her business? No, but he saw no reason to hold back, so he let his irritation bubble to the surface. “Why? Thinking of applying for the job? Sorry, but I’m not accepting applications at the moment.”

  Another self-conscious flush colored her very pretty face.

  While he’d thought about her a lot since July, he’d forgotten just how pretty she was. “Sorry. That was a douche thing to say. No, no friends with benefits. Hockey comes first.”

  “I thought family was first.” She tipped the creamer into her coffee.

  She remembered that too. The thought wrapped his heart in a warm blanket. Another chip. “Yeah, family’s first.”

  Lily beamed at him, startling him into silence as he took it in. A few moments of coffee-sipping quiet later, their drinks arrived with an apology from the waitress for the delay—a delay Gage hadn’t even registered. He took a gulp of his orange juice to soothe his suddenly parched throat.

  Lily slid her milkshake in front of her and dragged the straw through a mound of whipped cream that reminded him of a miniaturized Mount Evans.

  “How’s the milkshake?” he ventured.

  “Mmm, delicious. Thanks again for breakfast.” Her Pacific Ocean-blue eyes twinkled. Was he reading the same conspiratorial look she’d given him before they climbed the back stairs to her room last year? Yeah, he could totally get sucked in again. Damn. He’d meant to give her a piece of his mind, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up giving her a piece of himself. No, can’t afford it.

  “It’s the least I can do to pay for your time tonight.”

  She crinkled her nose. “You make me sound like a hooker. Or one of those strippers.”

  He laughed out loud. “Well, if that’s the case, you really should be over here in my lap.”

  “A lap dance?” she snorted.

  Not that he’d actually wanted—much less bought—a lap dance tonight. “No worries, ’cause if you were to give me one, I couldn’t touch you. So all things considered, much tamer than the night of the wedding.”

  If the color of her cheeks was an indication, his remark had thoroughly embarrassed her, which gave him a little lift of satisfaction. She excused herself and headed for the ladies’ room, and he watched her the whole way, grateful her coat no longer hid her curvy ass. He told himself to knock it off.

  Around him, diners buzzed in quiet tones, and plates and glasses clicked and rang. He sipped his orange juice, once more surveying the restaurant, though not seeing beyond the haze of his own thoughts.

  His grandmother had taught him that if he followed his moral compass, it would take him in the right direction. He’d always tried to do just that. But could he apply that piece of wisdom to this situation? Things were usually pretty black-and-white, but Lily was blending the two into befuddling gray.

  Chapter 5

  Because Everyone Needs Social Media

  Minutes later, Lily was walking back toward him, hips swaying softly side to side. He took in this view fully too, and when his gaze locked on hers, another zap of current jolted through him.

  A gleam lit her eyes as she sat down and wiggled into her seat. “So what do you do for entertainment? Do hockey players get much downtime during the season?”

  She drew her shake toward her, closed her mouth around the straw, and sucked, hollowing her cheeks. On autopilot, the tip of his tongue darted out and swiped his lips. He tried to corral his mind and not let it wander to how good it had felt when that mouth had done similar things to him that night. In fact, he needed to stop thinking about that night altogether.

  Sadly, his talking-to fell short, evidenced by the rocket in his pants maneuvering itself into position for takeoff.

  He cleared his throat. “I love live music, especially in the smaller venues. Have you ever been to the Soiled Dove Underground?”

  “I love that place. They have the best blues and jazz acts, and the atmosphere is so intimate. I’ve spectated way more than I’ve performed there, though.” A giggle escaped her, and he glimpsed the sixteen-year-old girl she must’ve been.

  “How old are you?” he blurted. He could feel his mother’s virtual slap to his head. Or maybe that was Grandma’s. He could never tell.

  Lily put on a scandalized expression. “Isn’t that rather personal?”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  She cleared her throat, then finally managed, “I turned twenty-five early last month.”

  “There’s another coincidence.” Not that he was keeping track. “We were born the same year. I just turned twenty-six.”

  “Really? When?”

  He pulled out his phone, glanced at it, and looked back at her with a smile. “Twenty minutes ago.”

  Surprised eyes caught his. “Oh! Happy birthday! What are you—?”

  “Excuse me, do you play for the Blizzard?” a pretty woman interrupted. Behind her, four other women giggled.

  Sitting up, Gage plastered a polite smile on this face. “Yeah. Hi, I’m—”

  “Gage Nelson!” she squealed. Over her shoulder, she threw a “Told you!” to her companions. “You’re my favorite player in the whole league! You should totally be MVP this year!” She practically bounced in place. He would’ve argued that he wasn’t anywhere near MVP-worthy, but it would’ve taken longer, so he merely said thank you and hid his embarrassment while she gushed about how awesome he was.

  “Do you mind if we get some pictures with you?” she asked. Now they were all waving their phones.

  He flicked his eyes to Lily, who seemed to be watching intently. Though used to fan attention, he couldn’t say he was fond of the interruptions to his private time. But fans were the reason he got to play a game he loved for a living and get paid a ridiculous amount of money for the privilege. As his grandmot
her was fond of saying, a little graciousness would carry him a long way.

  “Do you mind? It’ll just be a sec,” he said to Lily with an apology in his tone.

  She shook her head. “Of course not.”

  After too many pictures to count—and a few autographs—he begged off, and they finally scooted away.

  “I expect that comes with the territory,” Lily said. “Does it happen much?”

  He shrugged. “Not as much here as in San Jose, which is fine by me.”

  “Do they always fondle you like that?”

  “Fondle me?”

  “You know. Grab your arms and chest. I’m pretty sure one of them had her hand on your butt.”

  He coughed out a laugh. “I’m pretty sure one of them did too.” A sigh escaped him. “Fans are the most important part of the game, but sometimes …”

  “It must get old. The lack of privacy, I mean. Not the part about getting groped by five pretty young women.”

  “Actually, not every man enjoys being groped by strangers, even appealing ones. Present company excepted, of course. Though I wouldn’t classify you as a stranger at this juncture, nor would I call what we did ‘groping.’”

  Yeah, he was having trouble letting that night go.

  Her cheeks pinked again, turning the color of her milkshake—strawberries-and-cream—and she cast her eyes down. He liked that he could get under her skin like she was getting under his.

  The mystery of what made her life so complicated reared up. But before he could ask, servers appeared and deposited their orders. He attacked his food, eager to do something besides swim in a whirlpool of confusion and frustration stirred up by the woman sitting opposite him.

  An idea flared in his brain as he shoved down a bite of waffle. “Are you still doing social media consulting?”

  She nodded.

  His idea began to grow wings. “Do you ever handle fan mail?”

  “I can. What are you thinking?”

  “I get a lot. More than I have time to deal with. Sarah used to take care of it for me, but since she moved away, my fan mail’s tripled. I’ve been toying with hiring a PA to do it for me, but I haven’t had time to interview anyone. Besides, the thought of a stranger knowing all my personal business has zero appeal.”

  He stacked his empty plates and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “The organization wants us to connect with fans, and social media’s the most efficient way to go about it. I mean, those ladies were only five fans. I could reach exponentially more—and skip the groping.”

  Lily’s plate was still half-full, and she pushed at the crepes with her fork. Her features suddenly brightened. She dropped her fork, rummaged around in her purse, and pulled out her phone. She tapped her screen, studied it for a beat, then thrust the device at him. “This is you, right?”

  He squinted, studying the small screen. “Yep.”

  She pulled the phone back. “I’ve looked at your social media, what there is of it, and no offense, but it’s kinda uninspired. You have all kinds of hockey celebrity cred you could be using to your advantage.”

  This statement floored him. “Wait. You’ve been on my social media?”

  She gave him a sheepish look. “I might’ve taken a peek after we met last summer.”

  That warmed him all over. “So you’re talking about me doing social media on top of what the team does?”

  Her eyes were doing that sparkle thing again. “Yes! People could get their daily Gage Nelson fix directly from Gage Nelson, without the Blizzard filter.”

  “Trust me, my life’s not that interesting.”

  “I can promote all kinds of things fans would find interesting. Do you have a dog?”

  He shook his head. “Just a stray cat I feed whenever he comes around.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I call him Hobbes.” She gave him the scrunchy I-don’t-get-it face, which he returned with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Calvin and Hobbes? The cartoon strip?”

  “Um …”

  “Kid with a pet tiger, and he’s always getting into trouble? It’s a classic.”

  “I vaguely remember. I’m more of a Prince Valiant kind of girl.”

  “Because he’s a knight, or because of his awesome bowl cut?”

  She burst out with a laugh. “Oh, it’s totally the hair. As for Hobbes, I could post a picture of you—it would look like you’re the one posting—cuddling Hobbes. Fans would eat it up. Or of you sitting on your couch, with the cat in your lap.”

  Without him noticing, the waitress had removed the plates and swapped out coffee carafes. “Hobbes and I do not cuddle. Besides, what’s the point?”

  “You do charity work, right?”

  He nodded.

  Her face lit up, growing prettier by the second. “Think of the exposure for those organizations. Pictures of you hanging out with kids, relaxing with first responders, whatever the cause. The public loves that stuff, and they’ll want to get involved because they see this hockey hunk—that’s you—doing it, and they want to emulate you.” She glanced at the phone again. “Your last post was in June?”

  Carafe in hand, he tipped fresh coffee into their cups—though he didn’t need any more caffeine in his system—and gave her a nod.

  “You don’t post, but you’ve got twenty-two thousand followers!” She began bubbling over. “You’ve got a ready-made audience dying to hear about you.”

  When he didn’t respond—he was still processing her calling him a hockey hunk and that people wanted to hear about him—she said, “Tell me about the kinds of volunteer work you do.”

  He blinked. People always made such a big deal out of his community work, but it wasn’t a big deal. Not to him. The really big deal was the fortitude of the patients, their families, their friends. Witnessing their struggles was invariably awkward, but it was a privilege. And the fawning over what he was doing just embarrassed the shit out of him because it shone a spotlight he wasn’t comfortable standing in—it wasn’t about him. He was just a small actor on a huge stage in these people’s lives.

  Staring at his full coffee cup, he spun it in small increments. “I visit hospitals. See kids, cancer patients.”

  Cup poised at her lips, she blew softly across the coffee’s surface. “Those are set up by the team, right?”

  “Yes, but there are some things I do on my own, like helping out with a sled hockey team.” When she frowned, he explained. “They’re guys with a variety of disabilities that keep them from standing upright, hence the sleds. I also sponsor a group of mini mites.”

  More tapping, and she passed the phone back to him. “This is an example of the work I do. That’s the band’s website. If you hit the icons, you can check out their Tweets, Instagram, Pinterest, their Facebook page.”

  Even on the small screen, the professional caliber was obvious, and it bowled him over. Not what he’d expected … just like her singing. Maybe she wasn’t the only one stuffing people into pigeonholes. He hit the white bird in the blue box and landed on the band’s Twitter account.

  Gage handed back her phone. “Impressive.”

  She dipped her head. “Thank you.” Her cheeks were shiny and pink again. “I enjoy it. It’s creative and fun.”

  The waitress materialized by their table, and Gage lifted his chin at Lily. “Another milkshake?”

  “No. I’m full, thanks.” Her plate wasn’t close to empty. “I should get home,” she added once the waitress had handed him the bill and moved on to the next table.

  After paying, he followed her to her car and opened her door before climbing into his seat.

  “Next stop, the arena,” she said.

  “Yep.”

  Where they had fallen into a spirited back-and-forth at the restaurant, a stilted silence now commandeered the air between them. Thoughts buzzed through his head like a swarm of wasps surprised out of their mud palaces by a water jet. While he hadn’t gotten everything off his chest, the need to do so had los
t its urgency, replaced by a humming that brought to mind a rambunctious electrical current. He told himself it had to do with her organizing and answering his fan letters, saving him time; with improving his PR; with her managing his social media which, before tonight, he’d been blissfully unaware he needed. And while he wasn’t yet convinced he needed it, he couldn’t deny the spark in his belly that hadn’t been there mere hours before.

  Not good.

  That spark was the result of two forces dueling one another inside him: aggravation and enchantment. He had a decision to make, but he still didn’t have the answers he needed to make that decision. He found himself wanting more time to solve a mystery he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint. Like being armed with one puzzle piece and an array of boxes to match it to before he could hope to work the puzzle. Did he want to solve the puzzle sitting beside him? Treat it like the game. Don’t overthink it.

  The round-domed arena loomed, and she flipped on her blinker.

  He motioned toward the players’ parking lot, guiding her to his vehicle—the only one in sight.

  After pulling alongside, she killed the engine. Overhead lights illuminated the car’s interior. Her hair glowed pale gold as she turned in her seat and faced him. “Look, I’m sorry about the way I left that night. I never should’ve—”

  “It’s done,” he said blandly. “Though I am still curious why you found it necessary to run away. I’m the one who did the walk of shame.”

  “Some walk of shame!” she scoffed. “What was it? Fifteen feet?” She paused, tucking a strand behind her ear. “For the record, I’m not in the habit of taking men to bed. That night was an aberration for me.”

  “Ah. I get that a lot from women I overpower with my charm.” Not.

  She tilted her head, letting a smile show through. “Sarcasm aside, I’m sure you do. Also, for the record, I don’t recall you putting up a fight, Professor.”

  “You caught me in a moment of weakness. Look, how about we just forget that night?” Like I can forget. “I’d like to see what you can do PR-wise, so let’s hit restart. You’re the consultant, and I’m the potential client you’re trying to sign. Dazzle me.”