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

by G. K. Brady

  “Yep. Take care, Sar-Bear.”

  “Love you, Waffle-Butt,” she giggled.

  Waffle-Butt! Shit, would he ever live the nickname down? A smile tugged his lips before his mind wandered to Jessica Phelan.

  Once upon a time, Jessica had carried a torch for him. He’d thought he carried one for her too, but the flame had fizzled shortly after they took it beyond the friend zone. Which puzzled him to this day. If he were a normal red-blooded male, he’d still be drooling over that woman. She was gorgeous, smart, sophisticated, and had a body that could muddle a man to the point he’d walk into oncoming traffic. In high school, he’d been one of countless guys who’d welcomed her guest appearances in their wet dreams.

  So what was wrong with him? What had changed? Had it just turned into a case of “been there, done that”? Maybe sleeping with her, finally having his fantasy come true, had exposed him for the shallow, callous bastard his mother always referred to when she railed on about “men.”

  And if Jess was the closest he’d ever come to falling for someone? Sure, he was only twenty-six, but what if he never found that special someone, the one his buddies described as the woman who made you want to do your best, be your best? That made your mind blank out all other women? The one that made wherever you lived home, whether it was Denver or Tampa or Detroit?

  Ah, well. Time to pull his head out of his ass and screw it on straight. Morning skate and tonight’s game awaited.

  He parked in the arena lot and glanced at his phone. Two texts blinked. His pulse picked up, and his fingers twitched when he saw that one was from Lily. He opted to read the other one first for the sake of delayed gratification.

  Beckett Miller: Trying to get a head count for our Super Bowl party this Sunday. You in?

  Gage began typing his answer when an idea struck, so he paused to read Lily’s text.

  Lily: Just checking in to see how you’re doing in sunny Cali and if you’ve had a chance to look at your likes today? You are rockin’ it, Professor!

  As he read her words, he pictured her bright blue eyes glimmering with mischief. Eyes he was looking forward to seeing when he got home. Eyes that belonged to the woman he was about to hire as his social media manager.

  Gage: Seems I’m on the hook to hire you. I was invited to a Super Bowl party at a friend’s on Sunday. Super casual. Interested in coming with and we’ll work out the details?

  Holding his breath, he hit send before he could change his mind and delete the message. What would he gain if he didn’t put it out there?

  His phone chirped almost immediately, and he let out the breath, only to suck in a fresh one in anticipation of her answer.

  Lily: Sounds like fun. Where and when?

  His stomach broke out in a happy dance. How about I pick you up around 3?

  Lily: How about I meet you there?

  A logical response he aimed to counter. Pretty sure they live in a gated community. Better if I come get you.

  He had no idea where Beckett and his wife lived, but he’d plead ignorance if it turned out not to be behind a gate.

  During the several minutes it took for her to reply, Gage’s mind ricocheted between what an idiot he was to the super genius he’d be if she said yes.

  Lily: Okay, then. Let’s confirm deets Saturday?

  He pumped his fist and growled, “Yes!” Wile E. Coyote Super Genius!

  Gage: Sounds good. Till Sat.

  Thank God he’d been able to hide behind the texts because he sounded way cooler in print than he felt. As he RSVP’ed Beckett—I’m in with a plus-one—he spotted T.J. walking toward the arena. Gage cracked his door open. “Hold up, Shanny.”

  He climbed out of the car, grabbed his gear, and fell in beside T.J. “So you and Natalie going to Miller’s party Sunday?”

  “Yep. You?”

  “Yep.”

  “Alone, I assume.”

  Gage kept his voice even, corralling the excited answer ready to burst from his lungs in a shout. “Nah.”

  He found a measure of satisfaction when T.J.’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “Seriously? You’re bringing someone? As in, someone with tits and plumbing that’ll accommodate yours?”

  Gage suppressed a laugh. “Yep.”

  T.J. smacked his arm. “Good job, Nelson. You’re showing an interest in something besides hockey. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Just needed the right motivation. And there it was. In a heartbeat, no hanky-panky drifted into the sky, where it vanished like mist in the clouds. He didn’t dare contemplate whether or not this was a good idea.

  Chapter 8

  There’s a Football Game Going On?

  Lily sucked in her stomach and smoothed her baby-blue cashmere sweater over her waist—for the tenth time. She pivoted for a side view in her dresser mirror and groaned—also for the tenth time. Flattening her stomach made her boobs stick out. While that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she didn’t want to broadcast the wrong message to the man picking her up in ten minutes.

  “Strictly business,” she muttered to herself.

  Spending the past week trolling the Internet for information about Gage Nelson had her struggling to keep him rooted under the “client” label. Somehow the man kept stepping outside his assigned compartment, toeing the “drool-worthy” category, and to her consternation, her libido was betraying her. Just as it had last July.

  She gave her reflection a disapproving glare as she gave the clingy sweater two thumbs-down. She yanked the garment over her head, shimmied out of her jeans, and snatched up a cobalt dress draped over the edge of her bed. As she was about to pull it over her head—this would make the third time she’d tried it on—she paused to admire her new purchase, the lacy teal bra and matching panties she’d picked up without Ivy’s help … or knowledge. Even to Lily’s critical eye, the set fit her well. Not that anyone would know because “anyone” wasn’t going to get a glimpse. It was just a boost to make her feel pretty under her clothes.

  Damn straight. She nodded at herself.

  “Shame” by Elle King played in the background, and Lily hummed the words as she settled the dress over her hips. With a strut and a spin, she vamped in front of the mirror, stopping short with a critical assessment. Yeah, she looked good, but “super casual” did not equal “flouncy dress” at a Super Bowl party. And now she’d wasted three more precious minutes.

  Back in front of her closet, she perused her choices, ignoring the section devoted to her old stage attire. Definitely not casual.

  When was the last time she’d had such trouble deciding what to wear? Normally, she picked an outfit and rocked it with confidence—a knack she’d developed after years of being onstage. So why was she devoting so much time to dressing for her … business meeting? Business meetings didn’t cause her stomach to pitch like it belonged to a silly fangirl squealing over the lead singer in a boy band.

  Ugh!

  Her eyes landed on a subdued green leather jacket, and she pulled it off its hanger. While she dragged the jeans up her legs once more, her mind took a detour back to her new client.

  Questions had been circling in Lily’s head over the brunette in the photo. Who was she? If she was a celebrity—and with her stunning looks, she certainly could have been—she wasn’t a well-known one. What was she to Gage?

  And who else was hiding in his closet?

  Which brought her to: Why the hell did it matter? Because any good PR person worth her salt needs to know of any liaisons that could bite her client in the butt, of course.

  Lily blew out a breath that lifted the curls off her forehead. Gage was her client. Nothing more. Well, except a one-night stand. But that was in the past. Forgotten. Buried.

  Right?

  Lily kept her gaze pointed straight ahead as she stood beside Gage in front of humongous arched double doors. Mentally, she patted herself on the back for her perfect wardrobe choice. The green leather jacket over a white tank top was conservative yet trendy, finished off
with dark-wash skinny jeans and suede ankle boots.

  Gage, dressed in hiking shoes, jeans, a blue-striped button-down, and a black peacoat—all of which he wore extremely well—stretched in front of her and pressed the doorbell. She caught a mixture that was part-woodsy, part-leather, and all fresh man. The same scent that had greeted her when he’d helped her into his seriously nice car. Trying not to sniff the air like a bloodhound on a hot trail, she focused on the bells gonging inside the home.

  How long was the line of women waiting to get a turn at Gage Nelson anyway? Was she about to meet some of his “fan” club?

  The door opened, revealing a tall, good-looking man Lily recognized from the wedding. He pulled Gage in for a bro hug. “Nelsy, glad you could make it.”

  Gage canted his head toward her. “Beckett, you remember Lily?”

  Beckett’s eyes seemed to brighten with recognition. “Right. The singer at T.J.’s wedding. Nice to see you again. Come on in.”

  “No baby carrier today?” Lily ventured.

  He laughed as he closed the door behind them. “Not today. She’s down for her nap.”

  “Layne, right?”

  His eyes widened. “Yeah. Good memory!”

  Just then, a woman about Lily’s size appeared, and Beckett dropped his arm around her shoulders. She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way, with waving auburn hair that curled on her small shoulders. But the most noticeable thing about her was her huge belly.

  “Gage, you remember my wife. Lily, this is Paige, but I call her Andie.” Beckett caressed his wife’s stomach absentmindedly.

  “When are you due?” Lily asked.

  “Due for what?” Paige quipped, flashing a broad smile that showed off a dimple.

  Oh shit! I know better than to ask that question! When Lily’s mouth fell open, Paige grasped her hand in both of hers. “Sorry, Lily. Bad joke, but I couldn’t resist. I’m due in late April.”

  Beckett chuckled. “We’re pretty sure she got pregnant the night of T.J.’s wedding. Must’ve been your singing, Lily.”

  Paige slid him a sidelong smirk. “Or somebody insisting there was only one way he could fall asleep, only to keep me up all night.”

  He shrugged unapologetically. “As I recall, I was the one who stayed up all night.” He winked at his wife, who’d turned a pretty shade of pink.

  “TMI, Beck.” She turned green eyes on Gage and Lily. “Let’s get out of the foyer, shall we? Party’s in the back.”

  Aw … they’re cute! A pang of envy dug its claw inside Lily. Could I have that in my life again? Just as swiftly, her inner voice told her no, that wasn’t for her.

  As they fell in behind the couple, Beckett dropped back. “Wanna see my man cave-slash-garage, Nelsy? T.J. and the guys are already out there.”

  Something uncomfortable waved through Lily. As used as she was to entertaining, chitchat with strangers ranked in the top ten of her least favorite things to do. Being onstage was more or less a one-sided conversation, with the microphone acting as a barrier. And if the awaiting crowd included some of Gage’s past playmates?

  The better to learn about him, Lil.

  Before she could muster her stage face, Gage’s deep, soft voice surprised the hell out of her.

  “I’m dying to see this car collection I’ve heard so much about, but Lily doesn’t know anyone here. Let me get her squared away first, and I’ll check it out later, if that’s okay.”

  Lily’s entire body uncoiled a notch. She hadn’t been aware how tightly she’d been wound.

  “Fine by me,” Beckett replied. “Andie, I’m just gonna duck in and see if the guys need anything.”

  “Okay, Beck,” Paige called over her shoulder as she took Lily’s arm, linking it with hers, and steered her farther down a hallway toward music and a growing burble. Such a natural, easy, comforting gesture. So homey. “I’ll introduce you,” Paige said with that winning smile.

  They stood on the threshold of a huge family room filled with leather couches and a handful of … women. Beautiful women, whose heads turned toward them. Oh shit, I’m meeting Gage’s harem. Some gazes bounced between Lily and Paige, while the rest seemed to land behind them … no doubt on Hotness himself.

  “Everyone,” Paige announced, “this is Lily, a phenomenal singer and Gage’s date.”

  No, no! Not his date. This was business, though Lily couldn’t correct Paige at this moment. That would be rude.

  A round of feminine “Hi’s” chorused, sprinkled with a few “Gage’s,” as his warm, reassuring hand pressed into the small of her back. A pair of curious brown eyes fixed on her from across the room. They belonged to a familiar woman whose mouth hung open and whose gaze traveled between Gage and her.

  Incoming. Girlfriend number one?

  Making her way toward them, the woman’s gape transformed into a warm smile when she reached Gage and pulled him into a hug.

  “Hey, you,” she trilled. “T.J. said you’d be here.” Then she turned her smile on Lily, who developed a shameful urge to slink away when she recognized the bride from July. Without the wedding dress, she hadn’t recognized Natalie.

  Gage cleared his throat. “Hey, Nat. This is Lily Ev—”

  “Yes, I know! You sang at my wedding, and you were wonderful!” Natalie clasped Lily’s hand in both of hers and shook. Her eyes returned to Gage. “So how did you two, um …”

  Did Natalie know about that night? Not unless Gage was the kiss-and-tell type, but the label didn’t fit. Still, Lily felt a tomato stain oozing up her neck, and she began talking just as Gage did. Their words tumbled over each other like an overflowing, gurgling stream. Paige’s and Natalie’s eyebrows scrunched in unison as they looked from Gage to Lily and back again.

  Though their mixed voices were a garble, they both spewed the same message, which equaled, “We’re not together.”

  Lily’s face had to be the color of a roasted beet by now.

  “Sorry. I just assumed …” Natalie said.

  Gage gave her a friendly wink. “You know what they say about—”

  “People who assume,” she finished for him, dismissing him with a wave.

  Gage’s hand slid from Lily’s back to cradle her elbow, and she felt an urge to lean into it. Something told her he would hold her up, and an electrical surge connected him to her for an instant.

  The room returned to its chatter, and Paige pointed out drinks and munchies before tottering over to a few guests.

  “Drink?” Gage asked Lily.

  “White wine, please, if it’s available. Otherwise, water’s good.”

  “I gotcha. Natalie?”

  Natalie held up her mostly full beer bottle and shook her head. Gage excused himself, leaving Lily and Natalie in a shared awkward bubble. It was then that Lily noticed Natalie was a good four or five inches taller—because damn if she didn’t seem to be looking down at her, inspecting her as though she were a bug under a microscope she wanted to pull apart with tweezers.

  Lily took a calming breath, telling herself this woman was obviously important to Gage, and her scrutiny—uncomfortable as it was—was natural. She also found herself wanting Natalie to like her.

  Okay, Lil. This is your chance to learn about the man under the hockey helmet. There be nuggets to mine! In her head, a pirate growled, “Arrr!”

  Lily resisted the urge to tug out her chain and twiddle. Instead, she ventured, “So how long have you known Gage?”

  “Almost two years now.” Natalie’s features seemed to soften. “Forgive me, but we’re not used to seeing Gage with anyone unless one of us wives or girlfriends has twisted his arm into a blind date.” She paused to sweep her hand around the room, indicating the women scattered throughout. Then she leaned in conspiratorially. “To my knowledge, those have never worked out. One and done.”

  Lily blinked. Okay. False Assumption Number One bites the dust: These women are his teammates’ SOs, not lovers. The thought gave her toes an unexpected lift. Then she embraced False
Assumption Number Two: he didn’t hook up with their friends. But logic cautioned her about possible False Assumption Number Three: he hooked up with them once, like he had with her.

  A random flashback popped into her head, threatening to combust her pretty new panties. Despite what he’d said, was he at all tempted to sleep with her again?

  Where did that come from?

  She buried the images deep. Focus, Lil, focus!

  Just then, a strapping, curly haired man came up behind Natalie and snaked his arms around her waist. Mumbling something about amber, he nibbled her neck, and she broke into a fit of giggles.

  “T.J., stop! I’m talking to Gage’s date.”

  T.J. did stop—abruptly—raising his head to survey Lily with unabashed curiosity. “Oh wow. He did bring a date,” he said as though said non-date wasn’t standing two feet away.

  Seriously? Are they all lying, or is a Gage Nelson date-sighting rarer than spotting the Loch Ness Monster?

  “I’m not … we’re not …” Lily stammered.

  Natalie turned in her husband’s arms, whisper-shouting, “They’re not dating.”

  He gave Lily a skeptical grin, then a light seemed to wink on. “Hey, do I know you?”

  Safer ground. “I sang at your wedding, though I wouldn’t expect you to remember. You were a little preoccupied at the time.”

  The grin widened. “That’s it! Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, but you’re right. This one had me preoccupied. Like now.” He cinched Natalie close and bent to her neck with a playful growl.

  “T.J.!” she shrieked. “PDA!”

  “Oh, you want more PDA? Happy to oblige.”

  Self-conscious, Lily darted her eyes about, landing on Gage, who’d been waylaid by a blond woman and a man in a wheelchair. In one hand, Gage fisted a beer; in the other, a full glass of white wine. Mid-speak, he captured her eyes with his and smiled. Then he pointed, and the man and woman turned their heads toward her and smiled too.

  A tendril of warmth tapped her on the shoulder, which was when she remembered she’d felt the same way when she’d been with Gage last July. Before she’d freaked out and sprinted away.