Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4)

by Victoria Denault

  Now the speech part. My dad gets up there, and I focus back on Sebastian because the lights are on again. He’s still staring back at me, same smirk, same intensity in his eyes. And the same two feelings wash over me. Lust and peace. Or maybe it’s euphoria—some weird post-orgasmic flashback or something. Whatever it is, I’m just grateful it dissipates the anger and frustration that are clawing my insides and making me want to run from the arena screaming.

  Chapter 24

  Sebastian

  I change into the light gray suit and purple tie I came to the arena in and make my way up in the elevator to the team-owned boxes. There are two, one for management and one for VIPs. Usually the players sit with the management and watch the game from their box, but there’s no rule that we can’t mingle with the VIPs, and so I pass the management box and head to the one next door. I would definitely prefer mingling with a certain VIP tonight.

  The box is filled with people. Shay is in the corner leaning against the wall looking at her watch, not the game, with a white wine in her hand. Her father is at the buffet table set up near the back, and his face lights up when he sees me enter.

  “Sebastian Deveau!” He booms my name, and everyone looks over. He marches right over to me but I keep my eyes glued to Shayne, who is staring right back. “The Winterhawks’ best defenseman since me. Why aren’t you on the ice?”

  “Minor wrist injury,” I admit quietly, and he looks at my brace while I shake his hand. “I’m sitting this one out, so I thought I’d come say congratulations.”

  “Thanks, kid,” Glenn beams. Shayne rolls her eyes. I try not to smile at that. “Have a seat, stay a while. Let me introduce you to my family.”

  I nod and he walks me over to Trey with an arm around my shoulders. I smile at Trey. “We’ve met. I actually go to his fitness center, and Jordan Garrison’s fiancée works there.”

  He looks shocked at that. “A hockey player’s wife works? That’s a first.”

  He laughs at his own joke, oblivious to the fact that no one else is laughing. Trey smiles at me, almost like an apology. “Hey, Seb. Good seeing you. This is my wife, Sasha.”

  The pretty blonde shakes my hand, and I notice her protruding belly. “Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” She rubs her belly and Trey smiles.

  Glenn grins and points toward his daughter-in-law’s belly. “This sucker is our last hope of continuing my hockey dynasty.”

  Hockey dynasty? He won a Cup and had a decent slap shot. I’d hardly call that a dynasty. But I nod and smile and impatiently wait for him to introduce me to Shayne. Glenn turns me around and, his eyes a darker gray than Shayne’s but similar, searches for her. I search too, but she’s not in the corner where she’d been a minute ago. There’s nothing but an abandoned wineglass.

  “Where is Shayne?”

  “She went out for some air. You know how she is.” Mrs. Beckford steps forward. “I’m Elizabeth Beckford. Glenn’s wife.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I say and smile to hide my dismay. Something tells me Shay’s not coming back, and I’m not okay with that. I cuff Glenn on the shoulder. “I should get back to the other box, but again, congratulations. I can only hope they raise my jersey one day too.”

  “They just might, kid,” he says and shakes my hand again. “If you can stay healthy. You know I was only injured once in my whole career. You’ve been out a couple times this year, haven’t you? Guess they don’t make ’em like they used to.”

  I force a chuckle at that, but it’s not funny. The fact is, he probably had a few concussions in his time, judging by the number of hits to the head he took, but no one knew what to look for back then. I excuse myself again and head out into the circular hallway that loops the arena. Up here in the box section, it’s carpeted black and the walls are a dark green with framed photos of Winterhawks in action every few feet. I glance down the hall in both directions. She’s walking toward one of the staircases. I pause for a moment to admire the wiggle of her perfect butt and then stride after her.

  I reach her just as her hand pushes the door to the stairwell open. I press my body into her back, place a hand over hers and follow her through the door, like we’re one person. Once in the empty stairwell, she turns, stepping away from my touch, but I step into her and curl a hand around her hip.

  “What are you doing?” She’s so cute when she’s trying to be indignant. It would work better, though, if her eyes didn’t linger on my mouth.

  “Why didn’t you tell me your father was Glenn Beckford?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  I think about that a second and shrug before tilting my head and giving her a smirk. “Guess it doesn’t. I’m still attracted to you, no matter who your parents are.”

  “Frenchie, I don’t do hockey players,” she says, crossing her arms as if to keep more space between us, which just makes me take another step closer. She steps back, her butt hitting the wall.

  “Because of him?” I guess, and when she doesn’t say anything, I continue. “Because he’s a little arrogant and insensitive. An old-school hockey jock with ethics and morals that don’t work nowadays.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “You know what I do know? I know you did do a hockey player,” I remind her, leaning my head so close I can smell the shampoo in her glossy hair. The rich vanilla smell reminds me of the last time I was that close to her, when we were naked in the shower at Elevate, and I start to get hard. “And you were good at it.”

  My lips skim her jaw, just below her ear, and she whispers, almost pants, “Oh my God.”

  And before she can say anything else, I kiss her. The press of my lips on hers is purposeful and determined. I am going to show her what she knows she wants but refuses to give herself. It takes exactly one pass of my tongue against her closed lips for her to give up her silly little fight, and she opens her mouth and kisses me back. The kiss isn’t so focused and calculated now. Now it’s deep, and urgent, and I really want to fuck her right here, right now.

  The door clangs loudly as someone pushes it open behind us. I hear a gasp and a giggle. Shayne is about to push me away but I’m already moving. Frozen in shock, with the door slowly closing behind them, are Jessie and Callie Caplan. Jessie is clearly the one who gasped, her mouth is still open, and her eyes are as wide as hockey pucks. Callie, not surprisingly, is still giggling deviously. She’s the first to speak, which is also not a shocker.

  “Hey, Seb.” She steps forward and gently punches my shoulder. “Good to see you’re still getting a workout even though you’re not on the ice.”

  “Callie!” Jessie chastises her younger sister. Her eyes move to Shayne and she smiles. “Please excuse my sister. We’re pretty sure she’s got some kind of disorder, like she was born without the tact gene.”

  Shayne doesn’t respond to that; she just says swiftly, “I have to get back.”

  She moves past all of us and disappears back into the hallway. At least she didn’t leave. I can always go back in there and finish what we started…or at least, I can try. Callie watches her go and turns back to me. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “It’s fine. It wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” I reply and smile. “Came to watch your boyfriend try to kick my ass?”

  “Yep, but I hear you’re injured,” she replies, her brown eyes twinkling. “Hope it’s not serious. I’d like to see him kick your ass in the playoffs later this month.”

  I laugh. “I’m sure he’ll get another chance.”

  “So you and Shayne? It’s happening?” Jessie questions.

  “Not really,” I admit, and I know I look disappointed. “I mean, we were getting somewhere, but then she found out I play hockey, and now she’s treating me like a serial killer.”

  “She plays tonsil hockey with serial killers?” Callie questions and winks at me. “She’s even crazier than me. That’s something.”

  “She won’t date me,” I clarify.

  “B
ut she’ll fuck you?”

  “Yeah, she’s been swayed in that direction a few times…” I admit sheepishly. “But that’s not what I want. I mean, not only what I want.”

  “Oh my God, what is wrong with men these days.” Callie sighs and rolls her eyes. I realize Devin Garrison is much more of a man than me if he was able to tame this wild woman.

  “I didn’t know her dad was Glenn Beckford,” Jessie laments as we all start down the stairs. “She never mentioned it. Not even after I told her I was engaged to a player. Of course, she’s been avoiding me since the first day we met. I don’t know what I did.”

  “You’re engaged to a hockey player,” Callie says simply and shrugs, like it’s obvious. “This girl hates hockey players. That must have come from something her dad did, since he’s the hockey player in her life. And you two are part of that profession.”

  “But why?” I can’t help but ask. “What’s the big fucking deal?”

  “I can’t tell you,” Callie replies. “Our dad was a professional hockey player and we hate him, but not the sport.”

  I blink. I didn’t know that. How did I not know that? Of course I was obsessed with hockey my whole life, watched every game I could growing up; my mind goes straight to Drew Caplan, who played for Sacramento. “Drew Caplan?”

  They both nod, and their faces are wearing similar pained looks; it makes them look even more alike. The look passes from Callie’s face first. “We don’t talk about it. There’s nothing to say. He bailed before our mom died and didn’t come back after the fact. Anyway, hockey life isn’t for everyone. Just ask Devin’s ex-wife.”

  “Maybe Shayne had a crappy childhood growing up with her dad on the road all the time,” Jessie suggests. “But either way, she shouldn’t hold it against you. Or me.”

  “You’re right. And I’m not going to let her.” I nod and stop. We’re on the landing with half a flight to go before we hit the ground level where the locker rooms and family lounge are located. I’m sure that’s where they’re headed. “I’m going back up there.”

  “Of course you are.” Callie laughs. “Hockey players never take no for an answer.”

  I grin at her. “If Devin can wear you down, anything’s possible.”

  Jessie bursts out laughing at that, and Callie swats her. I turn and take the stairs two at a time. Thank God for hockey conditioning. I’m not even out of breath when I swing open the door. I start striding down the hall toward the VIP box. The hall is empty except for one or two arena ushers wandering back and forth. That’s why I notice them right away.

  Glenn Beckford, in a dark corner of the curving hallway. Under a framed photo of him lifting the Stanley Cup, he’s kissing a woman who’s not his wife.

  Chapter 25

  Shayne

  It’s Sunday, late afternoon, the sun is high in the cloudless sky but it’s freezing. I’m outside Hattie’s Hat in Ballard, Audrey’s favorite brunch place because it serves a billion different kinds of Bloody Marys, waiting for my always fashionably late best friend to grace me with her presence. Finally, after almost fifteen minutes, I see Audrey’s car come down the block. She honks as she drives past and pulls to a stop at an empty meter half a block up.

  “Hurry up, princess. I’m starving!” I call as she’s paying the meter. I try not to sound too harsh, because it is her birthday, after all. She comes charging up the street looking fabulous, as always, and I’m glad I put a little extra time into my own appearance. Audrey is a good-looking girl with a flair for hair, makeup and fashion that make her downright stunning, in my opinion. Today she’s wearing a long white clingy sundress with a pair of cork wedge sandals and black onyx jewelry. Her long, perfectly curled hair is spilling out over her shoulders. Her eye makeup is dark and smoldering and stunning. It’s her day so I guess it is her right to have every eye in the place turn and look at her, which they do, when we finally get inside and the hostess seats us.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “Cab.”

  “Still no damn car?”

  I shrug. “Working on it.”

  “Christ, I take less time deciding on a boyfriend,” Audrey gripes.

  Hattie’s has got a seventies diner feel to it with wood-paneled walls and booths down one side and tables down the other. The hostess seats us at the last booth, because Audrey told her there were going to be four of us.

  “Are you just angling for a better table, or did you invite Josh?” I ask, slipping into the booth across from her.

  “I invited Jessie and Sasha.”

  I freeze and stare at her. “Really?”

  Audrey nods, reaching up to pull off her hat and fluff her hair. “I ran into Jessie at the gym yesterday after your class, and I invited her. I really like her.”

  “Oh. Okay,” I say quietly, and she kicks my leg lightly under the table.

  “Shaynie, you seemed to love Jessie when you met her,” Audrey reminds me. “What happened? She says you’ve been avoiding her since she started working there.”

  “She’s fine. I’m not avoiding her; I just…” I sigh and open my menu so I don’t have to look at Audrey’s judgmental stare. “We just don’t have a lot in common.”

  “Ha! Or too much in common,” Audrey scoffs loudly and I give her a hard stare. Why is she doing this?

  Sasha arrives first. I swear her belly is bigger than it was just a couple of days ago. She rubs her stomach as she wedges herself into the booth beside me. Audrey lets out an appreciative whistle. “When are you popping the kid out? He looks like he’s ready to join us.”

  Sasha laughs. “Another two months to go. Although I’d be happy with an early appearance at this point.”

  I slide over and Sasha wedges herself into the booth beside me, leaning over quickly to give Audrey a happy birthday and a hug. The waitress comes over and Audrey tells her we’re waiting for one more and orders two Bloody Marys—one for me and one for her. Sasha orders herbal tea. After the waitress walks away, Sasha announces, “Oh, and by the way, he’s a she.”

  I jump and spin my head to face her. “You know?”

  She nods. “We just found out but haven’t told anyone yet.”

  I hug her. “I’m so happy for you!”

  And then Jessie is walking toward us, smiling brightly. I give her a small wave. I don’t hate her. I have no reason to hate her. I just don’t want to get too close to her. I feel like I’ll get sucked into a world—Seb’s world—that I’m trying to avoid. When she gets to our booth, Audrey introduces her to Sasha and then starts discussing the day’s plans. She wants to have a big brunch with lots of Bloody Marys and then go shopping and get pedicures. I want to pretend I have a stomach bug and ditch them at the mall.

  The waitress comes over with our drinks. Jessie orders her own Bloody Mary and we all order various versions of eggs Benedict. Then Sasha starts making small talk with Jessie.

  “So are you from Seattle?”

  “No. I’m from Maine,” she explains with a friendly smile. “A hole-in-the-wall town called Silver Bay.”

  “Huge hockey town,” Audrey adds helpfully. “They’ve produced more NHL players than any other town in the United States.”

  “I see you’ve read the Wikipedia page,” Jessie quips, and Audrey grins.

  “My boyfriend is a huge hockey fan. When I told him I met your fiancé he started reciting facts and stats about him, his family, the town. I’m surprised I don’t know his shoe size,” Audrey says, taking a healthy sip of her drink.

  I sip mine and pull out the wedge of celery and take a bite as Audrey continues talking. “Your sister is dating Jordan’s brother, right? Is that how you met Jordan?”

  Jessie smiles. “We’ve all known the Garrisons since we were kids. My mother was best friends with Mrs. Garrison when they were young.”

  I look at her, my eyes sliding to the sparkling multidiamond ring on her hand. She watched this guy grow up. She knew he was going to be a high-paid hockey star and she sunk her claws in early. So d
id her sister. It’s typical in small towns. My dad and mom were from a small town near Minnesota. My mom, the daughter of a dairy farmer, did the same thing. I asked her once, after I knew about the cheating, why she didn’t divorce him, and her answer was: “And go back to the farm?”

  “My mom died when I was eight, and after that, Donna, Jordan’s mom, really looked out for us.” Jessie sips her own Bloody Mary. “That’s delicious.”

  The icy wall that blocked Jessie off from my heart starts to melt.

  Sasha sips her tea. “That must have been hard, losing your mom so young.”

  “It was no picnic,” Jessie admits, and she stirs her drink with her straw, her eyes on the table. She looks uncomfortable so I’m not surprised when she changes the subject. “So you’re married to Trey and expecting a little one? That’s great!”

  Sasha nods and smiles. “I was just telling everyone before you arrived, it’s going to be a girl.”

  Jessie grins. “Congrats! That’s amazing.”

  Sasha sighs and runs a hand through her long blond hair. “Yeah. Trey’s father isn’t going to think so. He’s counting on Trey to add a boy to the hockey legacy.”

  “Ouch.” Jessie gives Sasha a sympathetic smile. “My father was the same way. He was devastated he had three girls. I wonder if he’d have stuck around to raise us if we were boys who could fulfill his second chance at a hockey career.”

  “Your dad wanted to be a hockey player?” I hadn’t meant to speak but I had to.

  “Jessie’s father is Drew Caplan,” Audrey announces, her eyes narrowed in on me like a teacher giving a child a life lesson. “He played for Sacramento, was considered one of the best in the league, before a car crash shattered his leg.”

  “A drunk driving accident,” Jessie clarifies. “My father had demons. Probably still does, wherever he is. But thankfully, that’s not my problem.”