Goaltending: Seattle Sockeyes Hockey (Game On in Seattle Book 8)

by Jami Davenport

  He kissed her like a man who cared. Not like a man who only wanted her body, but like a man who wanted her soul.

  It had to be the alcohol talking.

  Whatever the reason, Amelia’s resistance blew a tire and stalled out on the roadside, leaving her body to hitchhike a ride with this man wherever he might take her.

  She brought her hands up to his head and raked her fingernails along his rough cheeks and the short hairs on his jaw. His facial hair was something between a five-o’clock shadow and a beard. She liked it. A lot. It made his boyish good looks a little darker and older. Made him a little more dangerous. She could imagine it scratching the insides of her thighs as he slipped his tongue inside her heated core, much as he was doing now to her mouth.

  She did love dangerous, gorgeous men. She’d married one, after all. A marriage that lasted two months. Amelia had been the love of Darrell’s life—until she wasn’t anymore. He’d taught her a hard lesson, which she was paying tuition on.

  And that lesson she’d learned?

  Perhaps she hadn’t learned it all that well, judging by the good-looking player who was currently pushing up her shirt and unhooking her bra.

  She should stop him.

  But she didn’t want to any more than she’d wanted to stop Darrell all those years ago.

  Brick could break her heart. And he could break that little girl’s heart. Her first responsibility was to Macy. She forced herself to recall how he’d bailed on them tonight with barely a second thought. Yet dredging up anger toward him became increasingly difficult as he unhooked her bra and lowered his mouth to a tight pink nipple.

  She groaned as he flicked his tongue across the hard peak. Her body arched into his, pressing against his mouth.

  “I want you.” His muffled voice was barely intelligible as he switched to the other nipple and rasped his tongue across it. She shuddered in delight and wrapped one leg around his thigh.

  “Oh, yeah,” he breathed as he sucked her nipple deep into his mouth.

  She dug her fingers into his muscled shoulders.

  He raised his head and kissed her again, harder this time, more demanding. “I want inside you.”

  Amelia tried to come up with arguments against sleeping with him. Her mind remained blissfully mute on the subject. Her body was anything but mute. She rubbed her hips against him, grinding against the unmistakable bulge pressing against his fly.

  She couldn’t say no to this man. He’d dominated her fantasies for way too long.

  “I want a glass of water.” The little-girl voice behind them caused Brick to freeze, while Amelia jumped free of him. She pulled down her shirt and faced Macy.

  “Sure, honey, wait for me in the kitchen.”

  The girl’s eagle eyes glanced from one to the other. Silently, she turned and padded back inside.

  Amelia couldn’t help glancing at Brick. He leaned against the railing, way too nonchalant, considering a few more minutes and they would have been humping like rabbits on the deck of his condo for Macy and all of Lake Union to see. Knowing Brick, Lake Union residents had probably seen it before. His chest rose and fell, and his gaze was hooded, but she could see his pulse throbbing in his neck. He wasn’t as casual as he wanted her to think. She’d gotten to him.

  “Get her a glass of water and get your fine ass back here.”

  She shook her head. “Bad idea. This entire thing was a bad idea. Good night.”

  His eyes darkened and narrowed.

  Amelia retreated to the temporary safety of the condo, gave Macy her water, and put her to bed. She sneaked like a thief to her own room and locked the door.

  She needed to be strong.

  Somehow.

  Someway.

  Or did she?

  Chapter 12—Bender

  Brick drove his car with expert efficiency toward the SHAC. He might as well have been invisible for all the attention anyone paid him. The two females in his life were mad at him. Neither one spoke as they headed to the family skate.

  Family?

  Sheesh.

  They weren’t a family.

  Amelia’s attitude toward him since last night was downright frosty, nothing like the heat they’d generated on his deck several hours ago. He’d had a boner that wouldn’t quit since early this morning after she’d expertly cut him off and left him wanting.

  Wanting? Hell, needing. To the depths of his soul he’d needed her.

  He’d finally taken a shower and seen to his own needs, but it’d been her hands he’d imagined running over his body and pumping his cock, and those hands had been a sorry replacement for the fuming woman currently sitting next to him.

  God, she was sexy as hell when she was in a murderous state. Irritation radiated off her in waves, and he didn’t blame her one damn bit. He’d screwed up and been a douche of the highest degree, starting with standing them up to party with the guys, failing to mention the family skate, the late hour he’d arrived home, and his attempted seduction. Yeah, he was in deep shit, and groveling would be required if he honestly cared whether or not he found his way back into her good graces.

  Then there was Macy. He’d been a dickhead, and he hadn’t enjoyed dissing her for his buddies. He’d been off all night because of it and drunk too much to lessen the guilt, and was now paying for it with a throbbing headache and weary body.

  He wasn’t even sure his little girl liked him, and last night hadn’t won him any points, but he was determined to gain back a few this afternoon.

  Rush sat in the backseat with Macy, joking with her and teaching her some Russian. The attention Rush lavished on Macy annoyed Brick, along with Macy’s obvious affection for Rush.

  “You’d better not be teaching her any cuss words,” Brick warned, then winced when he realized he sounded like his father.

  “You won’t know,” Rush shot back with a laugh. Macy giggled and said something in a crappy Russian accent.

  “Ignorance is bliss.” Brick decided not to ask what she’d said. He parked in the parking garage, and his entourage followed him into the bowels of the SHAC, where they’d find skates for the girls.

  Rush entertained them every step of the way, and Brick’s frustration grew exponentially when Amelia or Macy laughed at one of Rush’s lame jokes.

  Brick impatiently jerked on Rush’s arm. “Ladies, we’ll be right back. We need to retrieve our skates. In the meantime, Hal, our equipment guy, can help you find skates.”

  “We’ll be right here.” Amelia smiled smugly at him, as if she knew something he didn’t. He hated being left out of some private joke, but at least she’d spoken to him. That counted for something.

  Macy grinned and giggled. “Do they have pink skates?”

  “Honey, I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for white or black, but I’m sure your dad will buy you a pair if you want to keep skating,” he heard Amelia say.

  “He’s not my dad,” Macy denied coldly. “At least, he doesn’t want to be.”

  Brick froze with his hand on the nearby locker room door. Rush pushed past him, but not before shooting an accusing glare in his direction. Brick felt lower than an earthworm in a stinky manure pile.

  Brick lingered in the locker room until he didn’t have an excuse to be in there any longer. He stared around the empty space where he’d spent so many days joking with his teammates. Yet there was more to life than hockey and sex. He wouldn’t have thought that a month ago. But he thought it now. Macy’s words sliced through his devil-may-care attitude and gouged deep into his heart.

  He doesn’t want to be.

  Even after he’d gotten the DNA test back, he continued to fight being a father. She deserved better than him. Any kid would. He sucked as father material, as he thought he would. He didn’t know how to fix it, and that bothered him.

  With a sigh, and wishing he were anywhere else, he heaved himself to his feet and walked stiffly on his skates to the ice. Macy sat on a bench near the gate, looking lost and scared. Hugging herself, she w
atched the other skaters with envy and a profound sadness. Brick’s chest tightened and he winced. She avoided his gaze. With a heavy heart, he approached her.

  He would put a smile on her face or die trying. She was his daughter, and she’d take to the ice the way a salmon attacks the fish ladders.

  Hearing hearty male laughter, he shifted his gaze to the ice. Amelia was clinging to Rush as he tried to help her skate. They were both giggling like teenagers. It was fucking disgusting. Brick bristled, more annoyed than ever for reasons he refused to dissect.

  Matt skated by with his two boys. The boys skated as if they’d been born on the ice, and most likely they had.

  “Hey, get out here,” Matt shouted as the trio zipped past.

  Brick took a deep breath and steeled himself. Teaching a little girl to skate wasn’t his idea of good time, but he’d make the best of it. He knelt before Macy and checked her skates. They were tight, so someone else must’ve already helped her.

  “Ready?” He stood and smiled down at her, holding out his hand.

  “Yes,” she said, all shy again. She took his hand, clenching it tightly, and he helped her to her feet. Her hand felt so small and delicate in his. He looked down at her in wonder, trying to see a piece of him in her. She was a beautiful little girl, which she probably got from her mother. Then again, he saw glimpses of his sister in her sometimes-sassy smile.

  He led her slowly onto the ice and gave her some preliminary instruction. She stared up at him, her expression oddly blank. At least she wasn’t afraid.

  “I’ll keep you from falling,” he promised. He turned to face her, took her hands, and began to skate backward, towing her along. She slid her skates along the ice, surprisingly steady on her feet. Maybe she was a natural after all.

  “You’re doing great.”

  She nodded grimly. “Do we have to do this?”

  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He forced a smile to mask his disappointment. No child of his should be a quitter. He never had been. Maybe he avoided the tough stuff off the ice, but he never quit on the ice.

  “I don’t. It’s boring.” She stuck out that lower lip and copped her princess attitude. He didn’t know her well enough to call her on it. At some point he’d have to step up and behave like a father, doling out discipline when needed, but he wasn’t ready for that step yet.

  “What would you like—” Before he could finish his sentence, she wrenched her hands from his with surprising strength, did an impressive one-eighty, and skated off, streaking across the ice with an impressive combination of speed and grace. He glided behind her in absolute stupefaction.

  She flew to the end of the arena with her dark hair streaming behind her like a silky flag. A huge smile of sheer joy lit up her face. Brick skated a slow circle in the center of the rink as he kept his eyes glued on her.

  Holy fucking crap.

  Macy could skate. Really, really skate. She glided along the ice, conquering it like a little Olympic champion, turning, twirling, sprinting. She built up steam and executed a bobbly but clean jump with a single spin.

  One by one his teammates and their families slowed to watch her. A cheer rose from her audience as she lifted one leg in the air, holding it close to her chest, and skated on the other. She skated for the pure joy of skating. He could see it in her sparkling eyes as she owned the ice and the hearts of everyone there. Even him.

  Especially him.

  His chest swelled with pride. She was a chip off the old block. Emotion welled inside him, constricting his lungs and cutting off his ability to breathe. He rubbed his eyes, fearing he might do something horrific such as shed a tear or two.

  In that moment, he lost his heart and was pretty sure he’d never get it back. She didn’t just own the ice, she owned him.

  Macy came to an abrupt stop in front of him, raining ice across the toes of his skates.

  She lifted her chin and planted her hands on her hips. With a joyous giggle, she met his gaze. “Did I do good?”

  “Oh, honey, you did great. Why didn’t you tell me you could skate?”

  “You never asked,” she shot back with unabashed courage. He liked that. She was his girl.

  “Who taught you to skate like that?”

  Her entire demeanor changed, as if someone had dimmed a bright light. Her body sagged slightly, and her eyes dulled. She looked down at her skates, kicking at the ice with the front of her blade. “My mommy.”

  Brick reached out and touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Maybe you could teach Amelia. She could use some help.”

  Macy raised her head, straightening a little. “She’s really awful.” A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Sad moment averted.

  “Yeah, she is.” Brick gave himself a mental pat on the back. Maybe he wasn’t crappy at this parenting thing after all. His gaze slid to Amelia. She lurched past them towed by Rush, slipped, and got her skates tangled with his. They both went down. Rush tried to help Amelia up, and she slipped again, taking his feet out from under him. He landed on his ass, and Amelia landed on top of him to the hoots of their teammates. Brick threw back his head and laughed. Served the bastard right.

  Rush wouldn’t live down being taken out by a woman anytime soon.

  “I could try to teach her.”

  He smirked at the doubt in Macy’s voice. Brick grinned down at her. Someone had cranked the music to a faster tune and dimmed the lights for a couples skate, led by team owner Ethan Parker and his wife, Lauren.

  Brick bowed deeply and held out his hand. “Princess Macy, would you grant this humble knight the honor of skating with him?”

  She regarded him with the utmost seriousness, as if she were considering buying a car and was kicking the tires. “Okay. If you promise not to fall and make me look bad.” She flickered her gaze to Amelia and back.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She nodded solemnly at him, still sizing him up. “Are you sure?”

  “Honey, I skate for a living.”

  “I know. That’s how you met my mommy.”

  The blood froze in his veins. “I met her skating?”

  Macy nodded, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. The image of a beautiful, dark-haired girl with huge brown eyes flashed before him, hitting him harder than a puck to an unpadded gut.

  Fuck.

  The memories flooded back, each one more vivid than the next. She’d had the same big eyes and sweet yet naughty smile as Macy. She’d been a figure skater. He’d met her while skating at a rink near his Vancouver home years ago. He’d been so impressed that he’d asked her to skate. They’d skated all night, and then he’d asked her out for the next night. He’d intended to take her to dinner. Instead, they’d steamed up the windows of his old car while parked near some abandoned warehouse. It’d been a night of crazy, down-and-dirty sex, and she’d proven as limber and adventurous as he was. At one point, they’d had a condom failure, but he’d put it out of his mind until now. He’d never seen her again. He’d meant to call her, but life intervened, along with more women, and he never gave her another thought. What the hell was her name?

  While he was partying it up, she carried his child and raised her. She’d never contacted him and asked for a penny, yet she’d taught their daughter to skate, most likely because she loved to skate and nothing to do with him.

  Had she followed his career? Had she known he’d gone on to the NHL and was pulling in millions a year? She must have. Why hadn’t she contacted him? Asked for some help? He’d have gladly offered financial assistance. He was consumed by an overwhelming urge to know what happened to her.

  But not now. He’d find out later.

  For now, he had a lot of lost time to make up.

  He was a dickhead. A douche bag. A selfish, irresponsible asshole who partied his way through life never considering the consequences his actions had on others.

  “Are we going to skate or what?” She’d copped another attitude with him, reminding him of his sis
ter and bringing a slow smile to his face. She was a Bricker, all right.

  “Yes, we are.” He took her hand, and they weaved in and out of the other skaters. His teammates grinned at him, some giving him the thumbs-up, others nodding. Ethan and Lauren beamed as if he’d made their day. The publicity staff followed them with cameras, and Brick knew this would be on the Sockeyes’ website within hours. He usually craved media attention. Today, not so much. This moment seemed too personal to be shared with the public and used to further the team’s community agenda.

  They skated around the rink a few times, even trying a spin or two until Rush cut in. “My turn. You get her.” He pointed at Amelia, who was clinging to the boards as if her life depended on it.

  Brick grimaced. Macy grinned with devilish innocence. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, honey, I’ll need it.” In a moment of spontaneity, he bent down and kissed his daughter’s cheek. “Take it easy on Rush. He’s had a rough day.”

  She giggled, and he relinquished his daughter to Rush.

  With a grin on his face, Brick skated over to Amelia.

  Too bad he hadn’t worn his goalie pads. He might need them.

  * * * *

  Amelia managed to crawl along the side of the boards to the opening and plunked her bruised butt down on the nearest bench, grateful to be on a non-slippery surface once again. She’d just gained a new respect for hockey players and the skill it took to do the things they did while skating around an icy surface on thin blades. Their abilities defied logic, or perhaps, just her own lack of athletic talent.

  Her heart kicked up a notch as Brick headed her way. He wore a T-shirt and jeans, looking hot as usual. His happy grin made him sexier than hell. Watching him skate with Macy soothed her aching body. They’d looked so natural together. For once, Brick hadn’t been awkward around his daughter, and Macy had appeared to warm up to him. He still had a long way to go, but he’d made progress.