The Muse and the Fairy Tale (New Hampshire Bears #1)

by Mary Smith

  “What else?” Kian was sitting on our couch with his feet propped up on a box.

  “I just need to unpack since the movers are finished.” I couldn’t be a pack rat, since I’d moved around the past few seasons.

  Kian and I had picked a simple two-bedroom apartment near the downtown arena. I didn’t like being too far from the arena because I liked not having to worry about being late for a game.

  Since Kian was older by fifteen years and needed a workspace, I gave him the master bedroom. I know a lot of the guys talked about the fact Kian and I were so close, but I couldn’t care less. He was the only family I had left, and he’d sacrificed a lot for me to be in the PHL. Hell, he was almost forty, and I couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out.

  Our mother died when I was eighteen, and Kian made sure I followed my dream of being in the PHL. Because of him, I was here. I paid him a salary, a good one, but we always ended up living together. I never minded it. I enjoyed my brother a lot more than some strange, shady roommate, or being alone. Besides, most of the year, I was on the road with the team.

  “I’m going to start on my room.” I headed down the hall.

  “Have you thought about the cover, yet?”

  “Did she send a proposal over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see it and I’ll give you an answer.” I had a sudden flash that I’d be shirtless and fans would be blowing my hair for wind effects.

  “I’ll email it.” He seemed baffled.

  Normally, I don’t care about the business side. That’s why I had Kian and Arden. All my focus was on hockey now, even though the past year it hadn’t been. This was going to be my year. The one where everyone stood up and took notice of me and my talent on the ice. I could feel it.

  I started putting my clothes away, arranging them in the order I liked. I wasn’t really too particular, but it was easier to pack when it was organized. I learned that the hard way when I forgot to pack some essentials and had to go without.

  When a lot of my stuff was unpacked and put in their rightful place, I flipped open my tablet which I used to watch movies on and stretched out on the bed. I already saw my emails leering at me, but I focused on one from Kian.

  The proposal was in the subject line and I clicked to open it. I skimmed the extremely detailed proposal. My own PHL contract wasn’t even this descriptive and they paid me a hell of a lot more. She even outlined each photo, clothes I would wear, my hairstyle and…my eyebrows. Seriously? Who was this woman? I’ve never been subjected to anything like this before, and I doubted it would ever happen again.

  I wasn’t sure if the fees were right because I wasn’t sure what a cover model made. I remembered the long-haired, blond guy made a lot of money being on a million covers.

  What was his name?

  Fido?

  No matter his name, I wasn’t as sure as everyone else was about this. I needed more info. I opened my Facebook messenger and went back through our short but lively conversation.

  Looked over the proposal.

  And…

  She quickly replied.

  And I looked it over it.

  I’m not sure what that means.

  It means I looked over it. I chuckled as I continued the ruse.

  So, are you going to do it or not?

  Do it? Are you talking sex? Because ‘do it’ sounds childish.

  I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about the cover.

  I need to know more about this book.

  It’s a romance about a hockey captain who falls for a much older woman.

  What else? The subject sounded interesting to me.

  That’s it.

  Sounds boring. Even though it did, I was sure there was more to it.

  Well, it’s more in depth, but I’m giving you the CliffsNotes version.

  Is there a lot of sex?

  Some.

  Kinky?

  To a degree.

  Whips? Chains? Handcuffs?

  No. No. Yes.

  Yes? I sat straight up. Maybe I should buy these stories and read them. No, why would I do that? I wasn’t a reader.

  I need to get more unpacking done. I’ll make my decision soon.

  I’ll need to know soon. I’m on a deadline.

  I chuckled. How cute. A deadline.

  Chapter Three

  Meadow

  I was able to push out almost three thousand words in one day, and I was proud of myself, so proud I ate almost a whole sleeve of Oreos. But now, nothing was coming out of my mind.

  “This isn’t healthy.” I stuffed the last cookie into my mouth. “Puckhead, why did you make me eat all of these?” I asked my lazy cat. Of course, he said nothing.

  “Should I go to the gym? Or to the grocery store?”

  I looked around my house. I should be doing laundry, vacuuming, or something besides stretching out stuffing my face with bad calories and sugar.

  My phone began to ring and I smiled at the display.

  “How is the world’s greatest editor?”

  “Fat. Tired.”

  “You’re not fat, but I’m sure you’re tired. How are you really doing?”

  Harlow Goldsmith sighed over the phone. “I’m busy. However, I need to know why I don’t have your first half yet. Want to take a moment and explain that to me?”

  “Aliens ate it. I fought diligently, but they took it.” I fake sobbed. “It was horrific. I’m traumatized for life.”

  There was a brief silence before Harlow responded. “Ever thought about becoming an actress?”

  We busted into laughter together. Harlow had been with me since the beginning of my writing career. She tore apart my first book, but I learned so much from her and not just about my writing. She was loud, smart, and above all, loyal. She was my one true friend.

  “Okay, I’m sorry about the manuscript. I’ve been trying to find my mojo, but it’s more of slow drip than an open faucet.”

  “I understand how you flow, don’t worry about it. I have some other projects to work on, but you’ve already announced the release date, so it’s crunch time, little lady.”

  “I know.” Harlow was right. I needed to get on the ball.

  I agreed to meet with Harlow later in the week, and I promised I would have more of a manuscript for her.

  “You better.” She disconnected the call, and I blew out some air frustration.

  “What am I going to do, Puckhead?” I glanced over at my cat, who still curled up at the end of the couch.

  I needed to figure out something and soon. I lifted my lazy-writers-block ass off my couch and went back to my computer. I flipped, scrolled, and clicked through every tab, every note I’d jotted any idea on, but nothing broke through my wall, which was blocking my thoughts. I might have written a lot of words today, but I needed more and I could feel myself stalling.

  I noticed my messages and began to run through them, but I stopped at one. Kyson. What was it about this kid? He was playful, young, hot…okay…very hot.

  “Well, I have finally learned the term cougar,” I told my computer screen, scrolling through our messages.

  Then the lightbulb went off inside my head: a story scene exploded and I feverishly begin to write it out.

  Four whole chapters spilled across the screen, and my fingers hurt from typing so fast. This was great. I was so proud of myself I rewarded me with a nap.

  Forty-eight hours rolled by, and the words continued to keep coming. It didn’t hurt I kept checking Kyson’s updates on all his media sites. Apparently, he really loved his Instagram account. He fueled my fury of words. Harlow’s email came at the perfect time to check up on my work, and I printed off my story. Well, what I had so far.

  I walked into The Latte Bean. It was the most popular coffee house in Manchester. The owners were an older woman, Bobbe Keating, and her wife, Joy. They were adored by everyone who stepped foot into The Latte Bean, because they treated everyone as family. Even their workers were loya
l to them. It was one of my favorite places.

  I ordered the biggest latte, found a table in the corner, and waited for Harlow. I stared out the window and watched people strolling up and down the street. The crisp fall air showed signs of winter approaching. I loved winter. I loved snow. I loved being wrapped up in a blanket watching the thick snowflakes fall from the sky. I loved it all.

  The chime alerted me to someone walking in, and there was Harlow. She knew how to make an entrance. Harlow was five foot ten and the tallest women I knew. She had long auburn hair and blue eyes. My shade of blue was dull compared to hers. She had youthful skin and you’d never guess she was forty.

  “Bitch, I’ve been trying to find a place to park, or I would have been here fifteen damn minutes ago.”

  And she cussed. A lot.

  “I just arrived a few moments ago. It’s no biggie.”

  “Let me grab an espresso, and then we can get down to business.” She rushed up to the counter and placed her order. When she came back, she took a seat across from me and sipped her drink. “All right, I’m ready.”

  I handed her the first half of the book. She thumbed through it and nodded absently. “Great.”

  “Great as in good or bad.”

  “Neither,” she scowled. “I’ll have it done within the week. Now, tell me what’s going on with you?”

  “Same ole, same ole.” I shrugged.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Fine, I’m trying to get Kyson Wick on the cover.”

  “Kyson Wick? That name sounds familiar.” She picked up her phone, and I knew she was Googling him.

  “He plays for the Bears and was recently traded here.” I gave her the abridged version.

  “Wow. Call me cougar and spank my ass. He’s hot.”

  I choked on my coffee at her words. Nothing she says should surprise me, but she always seemed to do it when I had liquid in my mouth.

  “When’s the shoot? And most importantly am I going to meet Mr. Hot?”

  I laughed. “I said I was trying. He’s not said yes, yet.”

  “Work your charm. You can talk anyone into anything.”

  “That’s not true,” I scoffed at her.

  “Um, yes, it is. You talk me into all sorts of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Editing full-time. Drinking red wine.”

  “Hey, the wine wasn’t me.”

  Harlow grinned. “Nonetheless, you can convince him to do it. Work your magic.”

  I sighed. “Maybe. He has been talking to me on Facebook.”

  “See! Just strike up a friendship, and he’ll come around.”

  “He wouldn’t be the first guy to turn me down.”

  “Men suck. At our age, we already know this. But maybe you can have fun with Mr. Hot and Young.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with him. He’s ten years younger than I am.” I was shocked she’d even suggest it. Yes, he was hot, but too young for me.

  “I’m saying dip your oil on his stick, not marry the kid.”

  I snorted. “Harlow, you have the best way to describe anything and everything.”

  “It’s a gift.” She smiled.

  When I left Harlow, I seriously thought about what she said. I’ve not talked to Kyson in over a week, and it was getting down to crunch time.

  “I have charm.” I said, logging into Facebook and bringing up my messages. “Use my charm.” I gave myself one more pep talk as I began to type.

  Hi, Kyson. I wanted to see if you made a decision yet on being my cover model.

  I didn’t think he would answer quickly, but he did.

  Yes.

  Yes, as in you’ll do it.

  No.

  So, you won’t do it?

  No.

  I scrunched my face in confusion. This wasn’t helping me add on the charm.

  Are you going to do it? Answer yes or no.

  Possibly.

  I growled in frustration.

  You’re being an ass.

  Okay, I shouldn’t have sent that or called him an ass, because it wasn’t professional, but he was being one.

  LOL. Not the first time someone has called me an ass.

  It doesn’t shock me people have called you one either.

  I read one of your books.

  I read his message ten times before it finally registered what he said. Why did he read one of my books? Which one did he read?

  I really enjoyed Tricia getting tied up by Marco.

  “Shit,” I exclaimed. Of course, he read Stages first. I was going through my BDSM phase when I wrote Stages. Stages was just one sex scene after another.

  Was that scene based off personal experience?

  I plead the fifth.

  Ah, so Ms. Hylton has kinky side. I will say a few pages made me blush.

  Now, I was curious about which scene.

  Did you watch a lot of porn to get those scenes down?

  I rolled my eyes.

  No to the porn, and I’m not telling you whether I have a kinky side or not.

  Not answering if you have a kinky side means you have one.

  It does not.

  How the hell did we go from as about a book cover to my sex life?

  Does too! I bet you have a sex room. All decked out with whips and chains.

  For your information, I only have two bedrooms in my house. One has a bed free of whips and chains. The other is my office.

  All right then, you have a sex shed.

  “I do not,” I shouted at the last message. Puckhead raised his head and glared at me because I disturbed his napping. “Sorry, but he’s an ass.” Puckhead laid his head down again. He obviously doesn’t care.

  Look, all I want to know is if you’re doing the cover.

  Several moments passed before the next message appeared.

  Yes.

  “Hell yes.” I raised my arms in victory.

  The contract was signed yesterday. Arden should call you within the next couple days to set up a time for the shoot.

  Thank you, Kyson.

  No problem =)

  Chapter Four

  Kyson

  I pushed my arms through the brown sleeves of the New Hampshire Bears jersey. I hated the shit brown and piss yellow colors of the team, but I was a member; these were my colors now. What I did love was when my blades hit the ice; it was greatest sound. I skated around twice, listening to the roar of the crowd.

  Opening night.

  It was the best night because it meant a new season had begun. This was going to be my year. I felt it in my bones.

  Remington Rosin, my new line mate, bumped my shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  I liked him. He was a couple years older than I was and he’d been traded to the Bears shortly before I was.

  “Yep, I sure am,” I answered and went off to stretch my legs.

  My mind was completely focused on the game, but for a second, I skipped to my earlier conversation with Meadow. I enjoyed her book. I would never admit to anyone I’d actually read a romance book, but she was able to suck me right in. However, her sex scenes got me a bit hot and bothered. Never thought book porn would get me hard, but it did.

  I knew I would do the cover after I stalked her social media accounts. She was very interactive with her fans, and they seemed to love her. Plus, she didn’t come across as a snob, either.

  I Googled her and found a lot of photos of her at what seemed to be book signings. She was beautiful, and I liked that she was older than me. Age had never been a factor for me before.

  She was obviously a hockey fan, since it was all she wrote about. And I wondered if she was here now. I scanned the crowd, but it wasn’t like I’d be able to pick her out in this massive arena.

  I turned my attention back to the task in front of me. My job. I wanted to show the Bears I was worth the money they were shelling out. I finished my stretches and shot the puck a few times before we headed back to the locker room for Coach Long’s pep talk.

&n
bsp; I sat down in my stall when our Captain, Hamilton Baer sat down next to me in his. He was a brute on the ice, but I didn’t know him well enough off the ice to know if he was the same way. The only thing I knew was he was a workaholic. He was either working out, practicing his shots, or just running drills. Hockey was his life.

  I only half listened to Coach Long’s speech, before we headed back to the ice. I was on the bench since I was on the third line, but my goal was to move up as soon as they saw my real potential.

  When I jumped the boards, I was the first to get my stick on the puck. I fought off one defender, before passing it over Remington. We didn’t score, but I’d been able to knock a couple players into the wall.

  God, it’s great to be a hockey player.

  I had a huge grin on my face as I walked back into the locker room. We won. The joyful feeling radiated the room, and I think I started off pretty good. The music blasted from Keaton Jaco’s iPod and made the atmosphere even more fun and light.

  After I finished changing, I headed out to my truck where Kian was waiting for me.

  “Great game, little brother.” He grinned as we hopped in.

  “It was good, wasn’t it?” I beamed. “Wanna grab a bite and drink?”

  “We can’t. You have the cover shoot in the morning.”

  “Oh right.” I’d forgotten Arden and Meadow had finally worked out a date for the shoot. “Well then, let’s be quick.” Kian shook his head, but didn’t argue with me as I headed downtown to a bar and grill.

  After a couple beers and a large basket of chicken wings, Kian and I were done for the evening. Before I fell asleep, I checked my phone to see if I’d missed anything. There were a lot of notifications, but one caught my eye.

  Good game, Kyson. See you in the morning. Meadow messaged me.

  Where you at the game?

  Actually, yes. I have season tickets, but I usually sell them.

  How come?

  Deadlines.

  Are you always on deadlines?

  It seems that way lately.

  What do you do to unwind?

  I watch Netflix, read, and watch hockey.

  And...

  That’s it.

  There wasn’t anything else? I’d prepared myself for the lengthy list of hobbies she’d tell me, but it came down to those three things.