Puck Performance: BTU Alumni Series Book #4

by Ciz, Alley

  BROADWAY BABY: Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the real reason?

  THE BIG HAMMER: I figured I’d get some practice in before our date this weekend.

  BROADWAY BABY: Practice?

  THE BIG HAMMER: Eating sweet potatoes.

  BROADWAY BABY: Did you take a puck to the head last night and I missed it? Because you’re not making any sense.

  THE BIG HAMMER: You’re so cute when you act clueless.

  BROADWAY BABY: …

  THE BIG HAMMER: You’re sleeping at my place after our date, right?

  BROADWAY BABY: Maybe.

  THE BIG HAMMER: What is this maybe stuff you speak of?

  BROADWAY BABY: Well, if you’d asked me prior to this conversation, my answer would have been yes, but since you’re dancing around the question, I might be reconsidering.

  THE BIG HAMMER: *GIF of Zach, Screech, and AC Slater dancing in their underwear saying, “Slumber party!”*

  BROADWAY BABY: Oh I love Saved by the Bell.

  BROADWAY BABY: Still not an answer though.

  THE BIG HAMMER: Okay. Let me know if this is clear enough for you.

  THE BIG HAMMER: After I blow your mind with the EPIC date I have planned, I am going to spend the rest of the night eating YOU, Sweet Potato.

  BROADWAY BABY: Well played, Loverboy. I think you just broke Mels.

  BROADWAY BABY: Also…HOT DAMN!

  THE BIG HAMMER: Thanks Zo.

  Chapter Thirty

  February

  “You’re a hot mess.” Zoey rehangs yet another shirt I toss her way.

  I shoot a glare over my shoulder at Captain Obvious sitting on my bed. I wish Ella were here; she would actually help, unlike Miss Ballbuster here.

  “Not. Helping.” I go back to searching my closet again, praying the right outfit will jump up and shout, Wear me!

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like it’s your first date or anything.”

  I bury my face in the rack of clothes in front of me. Technically what Zoey says is true. In the month or so since I had dinner at Jase’s, we’ve gone on a handful of dates, but tonight is our first big one. I couldn’t tell you why, but it feels more official than the others.

  It also doesn’t help that Jase has refused to tell me what we are doing. And holy crap don’t even get me started on how he ended our text convo a few days ago.

  “Oh my god, I can’t watch this anymore.” Zoey pushes the pile of discarded clothes out of the way and rises from my bed, taking me by the shoulders and reversing our positions. “You sit here and let Mama take care of you.”

  “Because when you’re good to Mama…”

  “Mama’s good to you.” She finishes the lyric to one of our favorite songs from Chicago. “There’s my little thespian. Now let’s find you something that will get your hockey hunk so worked up he’ll be dying to get at your sin bin.”

  “Oh my god, Zo.” I hide my flaming cheeks in my hands. “You did not just say that.”

  “You’re damn right I did. It’s high time you jump on that hockey stick and take it for a spin.”

  I scrunch my face. “Not really sure that’s correct.”

  “Fine. I’ll speak to you in my language.” She tosses a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a white V-neck, and a long merlot-colored buttoned sweater at me. “You two need to finally stop dancing around each other and get to the horizontal mambo already.” I’m smacked in the face with a matching set of white lace lingerie.

  “That was so easy it was almost a cop-out.”

  “Whatever. It works.” A pair of suede camel-colored thigh-high boots land by the bed, and she folds her arms over her chest. “Wear that. Go, have fun with your boyfriend, and for god’s sake, put his finely-honed athletic prowess to the test.”

  She may be a nut job, but I wouldn’t trade her in for the world.

  “Besides…when a man says he wants to spend a night dining algina, you don’t turn that down.”

  Don’t ask. Don’t do it. It’s best not to engage.

  I can’t help myself. “Algina?”

  Zoey stops in the open doorway of my room. “You know…” She makes a rolling motion with her finger. “Like alfresco but for your vagina.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have asked.

  “Plus, hockey players really know how to work their hips.” She calls the parting shot over her shoulder as she leaves me alone in my room.

  I need to shake off these nerves so I can enjoy the night. Humming “Out Tonight” from Rent, I pull on the outfit Zoey selected. She is a pain in the ass, but she sure as hell knows what she’s doing when it comes to outfit selection.

  The jeans and boots show off my legs to perfection, and the t-shirt is casual yet tight enough to be sexy. I leave the buttons open on the sweater, letting it hang to the middle of my thighs.

  A peek at the time tells me I need to hustle if I’m going to be ready before Jase arrives. It’s a risk having him pick me up here, but he didn’t want to worry about if the Storm’s plane was late and having me wait for him.

  I’m wrapping a tan tartan scarf around my neck when the knock comes.

  It’s just a date, Mels. No big deal. He likes you, you like him. Don’t worry about anything else.

  I take a deep breath, only to expel it in a rush when I open the door.

  Holy hell does Jase Donnelly clean up nice.

  His blond hair is styled, his black sweater has to be cashmere and molds to his chest like it was made for him, and don’t even get me started on the way the dark jeans hug his massive thighs before tapering to a pair of classic black and white Chucks.

  Would it be wrong to give him a standing ovation? Probably, but damn he’s hot with a capital H-O-T.

  “Hey, Sweet Potato.” Mischief sparkles in the golden-green of his eyes.

  I’m in trouble.

  “Hey, All-Star.”

  “Are you two going out, or are you just going to stand there eye-fucking each other all night?”

  I’m going to kill Zoey.

  “Hey, Zo.” A knowing smirk plays on Jase’s lips.

  “Hey there, Loverboy.” Zoey wiggles her fingers in greeting.

  Yup, I’m definitely going to murder her. It’s a good thing I have a second best friend.

  “Goodbye, Zo.” I grab my coat and push Jase out the door before she can say anything else.

  “Night. Oh, and Mels,” Zoey calls out as the door shuts, “go forth and have all the crazy monkey sex you want tonight. There’s no rehearsal tomorrow. It’s not like you have to worry about being sore.”

  Why? Why am I friends with her?

  A muscular arm wraps around my middle, pulling me against a hard chest. All embarrassment fades at the sense of home the embrace brings.

  “Though I’m fully on board with that suggestion”—Jase runs his nose along the shell of my ear—“we should probably limit the amount of time she spends with Becky and Skye.”

  We should probably limit the amount of time she spends outside of a padded room. I keep that thought to myself.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know if the world can handle the trouble the three of them could create together.”

  And just like that, all the awkwardness fades.

  * * *

  When the town car parks in front of a nondescript door twenty minutes later, I still have no idea what we are doing. No matter how much I pried, Jase remained all mum’s the word. My only clue is the small lit metal sign above the door: The Duel.

  Ever the gentleman, Jase holds the door for me to step through, lacing our fingers and guiding us down a long, narrow hallway.

  We come to a stop at another door, this one with a bell. A few seconds later, it clicks open and a bear of a man steps out, a deep scowl on his face.

  Where the hell did Jase bring us?

  I shift so Jase’s bulk is blocking me but stop when I see the man break out into a grin upon spotting my boyfriend.

  “Donnelly. It’s been a minute,”
he says in a deep bass.

  “I know, Tiny.” Jase reaches out to share a complicated handshake while I stand there mouthing, Tiny? “You know how it is when the season kicks into high gear.”

  “Hell yeah. You boys are looking good this year. You going to bring home the Cup for us?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Dark eyes crinkle at the corners and white teeth flash against dark skin when Tiny turns my way. “And who is this beauty?”

  Jase gives my fingers a squeeze, pulling me forward to his side. The affection I see in his gaze when he looks down at me causes my heart to tap-dance inside my chest. “This is my girlfriend Melody Brightly. Mels, this is Tiny.”

  I love ironic nicknames.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Tiny greets me warmly before saying to Jase, “No Cali? You’re taking on the rock-star contingent by yourself?”

  “Nah.” An arm drops around my shoulders. “My girl here is a Broadway star. She’s my ringer.”

  The two of them share a look I can’t decipher then Tiny thrusts an arm behind him.

  “Can’t wait for it all to go down. You know the drill. Drop your phones and head on in. Your fanboy already has a whole section for you guys. Guess I should have figured you’d be showing up tonight.”

  “Your fanboy?” There’s no stopping my chuckle at the blush overtaking Jase’s cheeks.

  “You’ll see,” is all he says.

  Tiny clicks the door shut behind us, and I follow Jase to a room where we check our coats and phones.

  “Our phones?” I ask.

  “You’ll see,” he repeats, not saying anything else on the subject.

  Excitement bubbles and a buzz hums beneath my skin as he weaves us through the tables and chairs.

  I take in the place, trying to figure out what it is. It reminds me of a speakeasy, all dark paneled walls and black tufted-leather booths. The only light in the space comes from Edison bulbs strung across the ceiling and wrought iron sconces intermittently placed throughout.

  There is a huge oak bar taking up the entirety of one wall, but what really captures my attention is the curved stage, complete with velvet curtains tied back on the sides and two grand pianos—one black, one white—polished to a high shine in the center.

  “Did you bring me to a piano bar?”

  “A dueling piano bar, Sweet Potato.” The smirk on his face is the same 100% pure cocky male one he had the night we met.

  I should say something biting, knock him down a peg or two.

  That’s not what I do, though.

  Instead I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and sealing my mouth to his.

  This date is…so…me. How else did you think I would react?

  Who cares that we are in a public place, or that we stand amongst the tables, probably preventing patrons and servers from getting through.

  All that matters is this kiss.

  I catch a hint of mint with each stroke of his tongue, and a shiver chases down my spine when the metal of his ring whirls inside my mouth.

  No one kisses like Jase Donnelly.

  He may have a gold medal for hockey, but he deserves all the medals for kissing. The Schuyler Sisters would never have to worry about not being satisfied if they kissed Jase.

  We kiss.

  And kiss some more.

  Applause rings out when the pianos stop playing, but when the catcalls and wolf whistles continue, I realize they are for us, not the musicians.

  He keeps me close, resting his forehead on mine. “I’m going to apologize in advance for this evening.”

  “Why?”

  Now I’m really confused. Everything about this place is so perfectly me, so I can’t imagine there’s anything he would need to apologize for.

  “Because.” He lifts his head, casting a look over mine with a grimace. “This is going to make me sound so high school…but this place is more fun when you come with a group.” He cups the back of his neck. “I mentioned I was thinking of bringing you here, and it kinda snowballed from there.”

  “You mean The Coven is crashing our date?” I tease.

  “God no.” He shudders. It’s adorable how someone who is a beast on the ice is intimidated by a group of women. Except…Jase’s contradictions are some of things I find most endearing.

  “There’s only one…well one and a half of them here. It’s bad enough I feel like a teenager who needs a chaperone for a date—there wasn’t a chance I’d have them all here.” He strokes the line of my jaw with his thumb, and I lean into the touch. “I want you to still be my girlfriend when the night is over.”

  “One and a half?”

  “You’ll see.” He relinks our hands, this time not stopping until we arrive at a section of booths and tables in the corner by the stage. I love how he’s always in constant contact when we’re together. Not in a possessive, controlling way, just…touching.

  “About time you showed up, Donnelly.”

  “Yeah…this whole thing was your idea.”

  “We were starting to think you didn’t love us anymore.”

  “Leave my boy alone.”

  “Ah, Pete—the ever-loyal Storm fan.”

  My jaw goes slack as I stand there gawking while the five members of Birds of Prey discuss Jase like they do it every day. Sure, he’s a professional athlete—one who comes from an impressive bloodline—but BoP is on an entirely different level. They are rock gods.

  “Um…Jase.” I pinch the washboard under his sweater.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Don’t you think maybe you should have told me we would be hanging out with rock stars?” I hiss through my teeth.

  “Relax, Sweet Potato.”

  Easy for him to say.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Hours and countless songs later, I’m patting myself on the back for a job well done.

  For days I warred with myself, debating if this was the best idea. Group dates aren’t really something people in their twenties do on the reg, but The Duel is always more fun when you come with one.

  It has been one of our favorite haunts in the city since BoP stumbled upon it years ago. Who doesn’t love a good piano bar? Good music, cold beer, fun times, and the added bonus of none of it ending up on social media because part of The Duel’s draw is its anonymity.

  Plus, unlike our first date, the people with us were actually invited to be here.

  “Your move, Broadway Baby,” Jamie says, retaking his seat with a smug grin after he and Pete finish their rendition of Billy Joel’s “Piano Man.”

  After my girl got over being starstruck—an entertaining thing to witness given how she gave zero fucks when she first met me—she’s been going toe to toe with Jamie for the title of bar champion.

  “You’ve added her to the Coven Conversations?” I whine, turning to Holly.

  “Nope, but thanks for pointing out that oversight.” Holly reaches for a cocktail napkin and asks Mels for her number. Vince gives me a look that screams, You’re in for it now.

  “How do you know her text handle then?” This time I direct my question to Jamie.

  “It’s a song, dude.”

  Oh yeah. I remember Mels telling me this.

  “Well…” Mels taps her chin in thought. Her lips purse, moving side to side, and I can’t resist their tempting draw. She may be thinking of her next song, but I’m thinking of all the things I will be doing to her when I get us home later.

  “Holly? Do you know the words to ‘That’s Life’?” Mels looks around me to see her better.

  “Oh, I love that song.” Holly claps her hands in front of her. “That’s a good duet, too.”

  “Wow, you wanna do a song that’s not a Christmas carol?” Vince teases.

  “You know Christmas music has not been on my playlist since New Year’s. Behave, Muffin.”

  “But you like it so much better when I don’t, Cupcake.” Holly blushes until she’s the same shade as Melody’s hair.

 
“Is this why you call me Sweet Potato?” Mels nods to the two eye-fucking each other next to us. “You needed something that falls in the food category?”

  “No, baby.” I drag my palm down her leg. “You know potatoes are our thing.”

  Her black eyes sparkle as she sticks a finger in my face. “I’m telling you this right now, All-Star: I’m not down for food in the bedroom.”

  I nip the tip of finger, causing her to suck in a sharp breath. She has no idea what I’m capable of doing to her in the bedroom. I don’t need food to help.

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to rule out frosting. Right, Cupcake?” Vince’s comment earns him a smack to the chest.

  The ladies get up for their song before my best friend can dig himself into a deeper hole with his girlfriend.

  I lean back in my seat as I watch them standing next to the stage. The beaming smile on my girl’s face and the easy way she laughs with Holly like they’ve known each other all their lives warms my heart. Fitting in with our squad can seem like a daunting task. Hell, Gage the six-seven giant was even intimidated when he met us, but Mels just rolls with every dysfunctional punch.

  “Oh you have it bad, man.” Sammy grins at me over his beer.

  “What makes you say that?” I hedge.

  “Don’t even try it,” he scoffs. “You forget, I lived with your other half. I’m well versed in how to read a Donnelly twin.”

  Damn him for being right.

  “Well, looks like we have a ninth Convenette.” Vince toasts his beer in their direction.

  As the last notes of “Friends In Low Places” finishes, the ladies take their places on the large stage. I may have joked with Tiny earlier that I brought Mels to be my ringer, but even I wasn’t prepared for the amount of talent she has.