Defending Donovan

by Jillian Quinn

  “Yeah,” I say. “Text her later.”

  Bex doesn’t look thrilled with me, while Preston is happy as a pig in shit.

  He extends his hand to me. “We haven’t met. I’m Preston Parker. And you are?”

  Oh, please. You know my name, Parker.

  “Taylor Bradshaw.” I clear my throat and stand up straight. “Bex’s roommate.”

  “You forgot teammate,” Bex says. “Taylor’s also my best friend.”

  That I am. And what are friends for? Clearly, to force Bex to do what she wants, whether she will admit it to herself or not.

  “Nice to meet you, Taylor.” He shoves the glove back on his hand. “Nice seeing you, Bex. I’ll text you later, okay?”

  She nods.

  After Preston leaves, she pushes her hip into mine. “Thanks, Tay. What the hell was that about? I can’t believe you sided with Preston.”

  “I didn’t side with anyone. I was saving you from making a horrible mistake. You like Preston. Stop denying it.”

  “He’s my dad’s favorite player.”

  “That’s not the real issue here, and you know it. Preston isn’t Kellan. Give him a chance. You might be happy you did.”

  “I guess you’re right.” She smiles, a real one this time. “But if I give Preston a chance, then you have to be nicer to Drake. He’s one of Preston’s best friends. They’re like brothers.”

  I grunt in frustration. “Fine. I’ll be nice to the giant.” With a monster cock.

  She chuckles, shaking her head at me.

  I helped Bex with her dating life, and now, I should take charge of my own. But that would require me to step outside of my comfort zone, and that’s not something I’m ready to do just yet. At least not with Drake Donovan.

  Chapter Three

  Drake

  After I find Jamie practically fucking a sorority girl on the counter, I take a seat at the table in the kitchen. Shannon’s been around a lot lately and offered to make us dinner. I guess she thinks Jamie’s going to date her. Not like any of us are interested in settling down while we’re in college. We still have our pro careers ahead of us.

  This is the first time we’ve had a woman cook a meal for our entire house. I’m surprised most of the guys aren’t home for the occasion. Killian Kade, a right winger on our team, left a few minutes ago. He hung around for a while until he got a text and ran out the door. He’s one of the most secretive people I’ve ever met. Unlike my friends, who I grew up with, that share everything.

  Tucker, with his big mouth, manages to fill the void with his usual jokes and stupid comments. He hasn’t stopped talking about Shannon’s ass or how much Jamie scored since he stepped into the kitchen. Tuck can be such an asshole to Jamie sometimes. Well, Tucker is a dick to most people, even though he doesn’t mean anything by it.

  Tucker and Trent, who everyone on campus refers to as the Kane twins, sit next to me at the kitchen table. They’re identical in every way, from their height and build to the dimples in their cheeks. Tucker spikes his blond hair in the front, and Trent’s falls over his forehead. Their hair is the only real distinguishing factor, though I could tell them apart if their heads were shaved.

  Our fathers are best friends and former teammates. Like Jamie and Preston, we’ve been close since birth. With the exception of Jamie, all of our father’s were professional hockey players. They played for the Philadelphia Flyers and even won the Stanley Cup together.

  We learned how to skate almost as soon as we could walk. And we did it together. Then when we were old enough, we played hockey for the same team. Our parents made sure of it.

  Every holiday, birthday, and vacation I’ve spent with Tucker, Trent, Preston, and Jamie. We’re like one big non-related family. But that’s also what makes us formidable opponents on the ice.

  After Jamie and Shannon set the last of the bowls onto the table, we take turns digging into the food Shannon prepared. The scent of garlic and spices fills my nostrils. I take it all in, unable to remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.

  Shannon works at a bakery, and after I sink my teeth into the first bite, I can honestly say this girl knows her way around a kitchen. My mom wasn’t much of a cook. We had a personal chef who would make us whatever we wanted to eat. Though, my mom did make bacon for me every morning before school. It’s one of the few foods my mom can cook without burning the shit out of it.

  My dad said she ruined a lot of meals while they were dating. After they got married, he hired Jacque, so we didn’t have to worry about my mom setting the kitchen on fire. I miss having a chef around. And now we’ve gotten a taste of Shannon’s food, none of us are going to want her to leave. Jamie better not fuck this up. We need her.

  Shoving a heaping forkful of pasta into my mouth, I laugh at the conversation, only catching the tail end of it.

  “So, that makes you two like brothers,” Shannon says, pointing her finger between Jamie and Preston.

  “Yeah,” Jamie says. “Sort of. We’re all family, like one really weird dysfunctional family.”

  I snort at his comment. “Speak for yourself.”

  Shannon glances around the table at each of us. “That’s pretty cool. You guys all knew each other before you came to Strick U. It must make it easier for you to play hockey together.”

  “I don’t know about all that,” I say just to give the guys a hard time.

  Jamie rolls his eyes at me.

  “It’s definitely an advantage we have over other teams.” Preston sounds like our team captain, a position that’s perfect for him. He loves bossing all of us around. “Coaches have a hard enough time getting all the egos to play together,” he adds.

  “We fight all the time,” Tucker says.

  “True,” Preston counters. “But we don’t stay mad at each other for long.”

  I can’t help but laugh, seeing this as the perfect opportunity for another stupid remark. Anything to annoy Preston. “I just beat the bitchassness out of you.”

  “You wish.” Preston moves his finger toward his chest, staring me down. “Come at me, bro. Let’s see how tough you really are.”

  I shake my head, entertained by his proposal. Preston knows I would kick his ass. Built like my dad, I’m close to seven feet tall. Well over five inches taller than everyone at the table, my arms and legs are thick and corded with muscle. None of them could take me even if they tried. But I wouldn’t mind seeing them attempt it.

  Trent holds out his hand to silence me. “I’m hungry. Would you two stop measuring dicks until after we eat?”

  “Are you planning to make this a regular thing?” Tucker asks Shannon with a mouth full of food. “Because I could definitely get used to this.”

  “Me, too,” the rest of us mutter in unison.

  I hope Jamie doesn’t fuck this up with Shannon. This is the best food I’ve eaten in a long time. We could use a woman’s touch around here, or at least someone to cook for us. Jamie and Preston do most of the cleaning in the house, so they have that covered. But neither of them can make more than macaroni and cheese.

  “Wanna play Mage Wars after we eat?” Preston asks Jamie. “I’m finally out of level twenty-five. That one was such a bitch.”

  I’m one of the few people alive who isn’t obsessed with the video game world Jamie’s dad created when he was in his twenties. Jamie’s the son of a tech billionaire. Yep, that’s billion with a ‘b.’ His family has more money than all of us put together. And somehow, he’s the most down to earth.

  “Oh, I love that game,” Shannon says, shocking the hell out of everyone at the table.

  Not many girls like video games. I wonder if she’s full of shit and only trying to impress Jamie.

  We stare at her as if she’s a freak of nature.

  “My younger brother is obsessed with it,” she explains. “I still live at home with my parents. At least for now. My brother makes me play with him. It’s the only way I can get him to go to bed on time. We play Mage Wars for an ho
ur and then bedtime. Seems to work.”

  “My dad created The Fallen Universe. Mage Wars is based on one of his earlier games,” Jamie tells her.

  They talk about video games and boring shit, so I tune out until Jamie hooks his arm around Shannon’s back and kisses her on the lips. My stomach turns at their inappropriate affection at the dinner table. I thought I was over that after I moved out of my parents’ house.

  My parents are that couple, the ones who are still madly in love and never stop touching each other. Even during meals. I constantly had to yell at them while I lived in their house. And I’m not dealing with that shit in this one.

  My mom is a famous romance author known for taboo and dirty books that would make a sailor blush. Sometimes, I hear her talking to my dad about scenes she’s writing in her books, and I want to throw up at the thought of them re-enacting them. The thing about my mom is, she’s very open. Like way too open with her words and actions.

  She says it’s part of her creative expression. Maybe that’s where I get it from. My dad is more of the shy and silent type, where Mom doesn’t give a shit and just puts it all out there. Sort of like me with my dick pics, I guess. I’m a weird mixture of them both.

  Luckily, Jamie and Shannon take that shit upstairs, and now the vibe in the room goes back to normal.

  “You ready for the game?” Tucker says.

  Preston drops his fork onto his plate. “Yeah, I guess. I think this is going to be my best year.”

  “Best year for the team, too.” Trent bites into a slice of garlic bread. “We’re winning again this year.”

  We won the Frozen Four, the NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey Championship, last year. We’re hoping to do it again. The first two times we made it to the championships we couldn’t take it all the way. Next year, if we’re lucky, we’ll be playing on different teams in the NHL, so this season is important to us. It’s our last hoorah before we have to grow up and move on with our lives. No more playing small.

  “I wish the announcers would stop comparing us to our dads,” Tucker says.

  His words hit me hard. Having famous fathers doesn’t help any of us. Our stats and abilities are constantly being compared, making it impossible to step out from our father’s shadows.

  I often wonder if having the same last name hurts or helps us. Until we get into the NHL, it’s hard to say for sure. But I wouldn’t want to get picked by a team because of my dad. None of us do. We all want to earn our positions on our own.

  “Oh, I know,” Preston says. “Like I need a fucking reminder of the ghost of Alex Parker.”

  “It pisses me off.” I shake my head, annoyed by the last time an announcer threw my father’s stats in my face. “My dad’s been retired for years.”

  “Trying to live up to the legacy of Alex Parker ain’t easy.”

  Tucker and Trent nod.

  “These asshole announcers expect us to be them…” Tucker says, “… when all we’re trying to do is play as hard as we can to get NHL scouts to notice us. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living in the shadow of Tyler Kane. Our dad…” he says, pointing at Trent, “… retired over ten years ago. Get over him already.”

  Tyler Kane is the general manager of the Philadelphia Flyers, and Preston’s dad is the head coach. Neither of them wanted to leave the Flyers organization after they retired. Thankfully, my dad has kept his distance from the league. He says he enjoys being home with my mom every day. Because he’s her muse, another thought that makes me sick.

  “Right,” I interject. “It’s fucking bullshit. My dad’s shutout against the Blackhawks in game seven has been in highlight reels since I was a kid.”

  “They won the Cup, though,” Tucker says. “That game was pretty sick.”

  No one understands the complexity of our lives. Our teammates think we’re lucky or blessed to have pro hockey players in our family. But their legacies are hard acts to follow. Our fathers bred us to become hockey players. They forced us to be better than them—as if that’s even possible.

  “Are you coming this weekend?” Tucker asks Preston.

  He cocks his head at him. “To the dance contest?”

  “Yeah. All the sorority chicks are dancing for money.”

  “Count me in,” Trent says.

  “I’ll be there,” I add.

  Preston laughs. “Like any of you would miss half-naked girls dancing on bars.”

  “You bringing Coach Bryant’s daughter?” Trent asks Preston.

  He bites the inside of his cheek. “Bex is meeting my mom. I doubt she’ll want to come to the club with me that night.”

  “Find a way to get her there,” I interject.

  Why is he acting like such a pussy about this girl? If she were anyone but our coach’s daughter, Preston would have pounced like a shark on blood. But with this one, he’s taking his sweet-ass time. And if he likes Bex for real, then maybe that gives me a way in with Taylor.

  “I’ll see if she wants to come,” Preston says.

  “Make sure she brings Taylor with her.”

  I still can’t get her sassy mouth out of my head. Taylor Bradshaw, with her pouty lips and nice tits are still imprinted in my mind.

  Preston raises his eyebrow. He’s quick to notice that Taylor has somehow managed to get under my skin. “You like her or something?”

  I never talk about women let alone ask about them. Because none of them have been all that memorable. The only girl who ever mattered to me left such a bad impression in my mind that I still can’t escape my past. Every time I try to have sex with a woman, the horrible reminder from high school floods my vision. And then, it’s like I’m seventeen again and can’t get it out of my fucking head.

  My friends still don’t know the truth. It’s too embarrassing to share. They wouldn’t believe me even if I told them. I’ve worked too hard to maintain my fake persona.

  I shrug. “She’s okay. I’d fuck her.”

  Tucker snorts. “I’m sure you would.”

  “She’s cute,” Trent says. “A little too tall for me.”

  “She’s the same height as Bex,” Preston says, nostrils flared.

  For whatever reason, Trent and Tucker always hookup with short chicks. I can’t stand having to bend down and break my neck to kiss a girl. Short girls also remind me of my girlfriend from high school… and I can’t go there. Nope, never again.

  “Not for me,” I counter. “Taylor’s just right.”

  Preston nods in agreement.

  Even at her height, Taylor still fits perfectly in the crook of my arm. Or at least she will once I get her in my bed, and I plan to make that happen. No matter how much of a challenge she gives me.

  I need to find a way for Preston to get Bex to the club this weekend, and I’ll handle the rest from there.

  Chapter Four

  Taylor

  “How did I lose to Preston?” Bex growls. “In HORSE, of all things. Basketball is my sport. Not his.” She spins around to face me, cheeks red and teeth gritted. “This is bullshit. Now, we both have to dance on a bar in front of everyone at our school. This is so embarrassing.”

  I shrug, unfazed by the fact that Bex lost a bet to Preston and convinced me to embrace the shame with her. We have to shake our asses to one song to win money for charity. It’s for a good cause. And Bex lost to Preston fair and square. She can’t back out of this, so I might as well go and make sure she follows through.

  “It will be over before you know it,” I promise her. “Get a move on. We have to leave in a few minutes if we want to get there on time.”

  After Bex slips into the tight spandex shorts and pink tank top we have to wear, then she stares in the mirror as if she doesn’t recognize herself.

  I come up from behind her and cup her shoulders with both hands. “You look hot, babe. We’re going to own this dance contest.”

  She looks at me in the mirror and rolls her eyes. “Remind me never to make deals with hot hockey players. I don’t know shit about dancing at a clu
b. This is going to be so humiliating. Why are you not upset I roped you into this?”

  I brush off her concern and continue lining my lips with my signature light pink gloss. It’s not often I wear makeup, but I do like my gloss, and it’s the same shade of pink I’ve worn since high school.

  “I like dancing and money,” I joke. “I don’t see the problem. It’s not like we have to take off our clothes.”

  Annoyed, Bex blows out a puff of air. “I guess so. But look at what we have to wear. It’s ridiculous.”

  I step back from Bex to check myself in the mirror and fix the short, tight tank top riding up my stomach. Neither of us ever wears clothes this tight or skimpy, but it’s not like we have a choice. Bex owes a debt, one we both now have to pay.

  “It’s not that bad,” I tell her. “The whole thing will be over before you know it.”

  The more I try to wave off Bex’s concern, the more irritated she looks.

  She frowns, unable to hide her disappointment. “Whoever ordered our outfits must have sized them for children. Black spandex shorts that barely cover my underwear are not okay around Preston. Neither is this top that scoops so low my nipples are practically hanging out. This shirt was not designed for D-cups.”

  We’re both popping out of these shirts. Clearly, whoever was supposed to wear our clothes was much smaller than us in every way. Nothing fits us properly. I’m pretty sure this top would have fit me in middle school.

  I laugh, focused on Bex’s transformation. “But you look smoking. Preston is going to pop wood so fast you won’t be able to keep him away from you.”

  “Ugh. That’s the problem. I can’t have Preston see me like this.” She wraps her arms around her stomach. “He’s so touchy-feely. Being around him makes me want to break all of my dad’s rules. I’d do it, too. If he wanted to.”

  “You bet your ass Preston would. He obviously wants you. Anyone within a ten-mile radius of you two can feel the sexual tension. Your dad’s last rule applies to dating, but he never said you couldn’t have sex with his players.”