Once Upon a Power Play

by Jennifer Bonds

  “Here’s your seat, Elijah.” Extricating herself from the hand of the little boy, whose death grip had cut off all circulation to her fingers fifteen minutes ago, she took the seat next to him. The rest of the kids settled into empty seats between her and Becca, the group’s other chaperone.

  “Wow.” Elijah said, eyes growing wide as he surveyed the arena. “This is awesome, Miss Chloe.”

  “It is pretty awesome, isn’t it?” she agreed. In more ways than one. She was anxious to see Ryan play. They hadn’t seen one another since last weekend. He’d texted a few times, but he’d been busy with practice. Even though she missed the sex, her life remained drama free. It was refreshing to say the least. Would he even know she was here tonight? Probably not. It was unlikely the players knew everything going on within the Rangers’ organization or Garden of Dreams. They had other priorities. Like the hunt for the Cup.

  She grinned, pleased with her newly acquired hockey knowledge. Not that she’d ever admit it, but Ryan had opened her eyes to a sport she’d never really considered in the past. She’d be an expert in no time. Of course, her interest was strictly professional.

  Maybe she should have texted him and told him she’d be at the game. But it wasn’t like they had a commitment or anything. Better to play it cool. Chloe glanced at her watch and settled in to wait for the Garden of Dreams spot. It would be airing any minute.

  Even if she hadn’t been watching, she’d have known the second it came on. The kids leaped from their seats, squealing with delight when their faces appeared on the big screen. She watched the video with a critical eye, finally admitting to herself it had turned out pretty damn great. Her shoulders dipped and she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The video was just the right mix of depressing ‘How do you sleep at night?’ followed by an upbeat ‘You can make a difference!’ vibe. Only a stone-cold bastard could look at those glowing little faces and not want to help. At least, that’s what she was counting on.

  When the cameras panned their section, putting the kids on screen live, she waved graciously, reminding herself that any PR was good PR. Even if it was likely her presence would ignite a new round of speculation about her non-existent relationship with Ryan.

  Chloe watched the crowd, very aware that sitting among the raucous fans was a completely different experience than being tucked away in a suite with the upper crust of society. And even though the crowd was wild tonight, screaming and chanting and stomping, she preferred it. They were going nuts waiting for Ryan and the other Rangers to take the ice. Of course, she could do without some of the signs. Put it in MY five hole, Ryan!, I want my headboard to give you a concussion, Jordy! and Puck Me, Gabe! were among her least favorites.

  Seriously?

  When the lights dimmed signaling the players would be taking the ice, Chloe felt a flutter of panic in her belly. The Rangers were playing the Flyers. Was Ryan up to it? Hockey was an incredibly physical game, and she knew he needed a win tonight to get his confidence back. And her stupid nerves were getting the best of her. Which was silly. Ryan was a pro. By his own proclamation he’d been skating as long as he’d been walking, so pretty much his whole life. He’d be fine. Besides, what they had was just sex. She didn’t need to worry about him or his feelings or any of that other mushy stuff. The only thing she needed to worry about was showing the kids from Garden of Dreams they, too, could overcome adversity, right?

  Ryan watched from the tunnel while the other Rangers skated onto the ice and lined up. He paused, dragging in a deep breath and filling his lungs to capacity with the frosty air. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. It was now or never. “You’ve got this,” he said, needing to hear the words spoken aloud.

  Now sure as shit wasn’t the time to fall apart. The team was counting on him. Stuffing his fear down, he stepped onto the ice, his heart slamming against his rib cage. The spotlight found him immediately, sending the crowd into a thunderous applause. The guys tapped their sticks on the ice, leading the arena in a chant.

  Douglas! Douglas! Douglas!

  He was home, back on the ice where he belonged. Skating to the line, he took his place among his teammates and waved to the fans, grateful for their support and knowing he was lucky to have it. Now it was time to prove he deserved it. The Garden pulsed with energy and he drank it in, fueling his enthusiasm. When the doc had given him the news about his leg, he’d been so afraid he’d never have this opportunity again. But here was he was, three months later, game ready. With a little more time, he’d be back in top form. He cut his eyes at the Flyers. They were glaring daggers, but he didn’t give a fuck. No one was going to intimidate him. Not tonight, not ever.

  When the anthem was done and it was time to face off at center ice, he was ready. The crowd ceased to exist. He blocked out their cheering, the loud music, and the excited lilt of the announcer’s voice. Squatting low, he choked up on the stick, fully prepared to sweep the puck back to his defensemen and take control of the game. The ref blew his whistle and dropped the puck. His stick was on it the instant it hit the ice, winning the faceoff easily. Putting his shoulder into the opposing center, he pushed forward, skating down the ice and getting into position to receive the pass he knew was coming. The Flyers were fast, but his guys were prepared.

  His eyes darted across the ice. Jordy still had the puck. Boom! He was checked into the boards, but not before passing to Bash, who was on the breakaway. The Flyers defense tried to sweep the puck from him, but Bash flipped the puck to Ryan. It skipped over the Flyers sticks and landed in front of Ryan, who received it easily, drawing back and taking the shot on goal. The puck whizzed through the air, heading for the goalie’s right shoulder. He wasn’t ready. The puck pinged off the crossbar and bounced in. The siren blared. The crowd went ape shit, the roar reaching a deafening pitch.

  Ryan pumped his fist and checked the scoreboard. Thirteen seconds. A new personal best.

  Crunch! His face met the Plexiglas above the boards. Hard. The solid surface was unforgiving, splitting his lip and giving him a taste of his own blood. No fucking way. Checked from behind after a shot on goal? Dirty. He turned around, fully prepared to take a swing at the asshole who’d delivered the hit. Fighting wasn’t exactly his thing, and he could count on one hand the number of fights he’d had, but this wasn’t happening. Forgive and forget? Maybe he could overlook the injury to his leg as a freak accident, but this was deliberate.

  Before he could respond, Bash was on the player who’d hit him. Hozier. No surprise there. The guy had a reputation for playing dirty. Bash’s fist crunched against the other player’s nose, unleashing a crimson tide, which ran down his face, staining his jersey. Hozier swung back, but Bash deflected the blow, taking it on the shoulder. He had Hozier by the jersey, pounding the shit out of him. The linemen stayed back, waiting for an opportunity to pull the two swinging giants apart. Finally, when it looked like Hozier couldn’t take another punch, Bash dropped him on the ice. He gave Ryan a fist bump and headed for the box where he was sure to spend five for fighting. Hozier would be joining him for boarding, another major penalty, so at least the penalties would offset.

  Although spontaneous, the fight had amped the crowd up even further. They were going crazy. Some considered Bash a goon, but the title did him a disservice. While he was the team’s undisputed enforcer at six-foot-four and two-twenty, he was also a skilled player. But mostly he was loyal, as he’d proven tonight, jumping in to defend his team and his captain despite everything that had transpired between them over the last few months.

  Collecting Bash’s gloves from the ice, he skated over to the sideline and handed them off. He grabbed a water bottle and rinsed his mouth, spitting blood onto the ice. The busted lip stung, but it was probably nothing compared to Hozier’s nose. Or his ego, for that matter. Ryan looked into the stands and spotted a tiny, pissed off brunette waving her fist and no doubt cussing like a trucker. The kids beside her stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

  Un
able to suppress the smile that spread across his face, Ryan found himself grinning like a fool. Chloe hadn’t mentioned she was coming to the game. Talk about a pleasant surprise. His night was definitely looking up. Their eyes met, and her cheeks got a telltale flush of embarrassment when he winked at her, acknowledging her presence. For someone who didn’t give two shits about hockey a week ago, she was awfully invested in the game tonight.

  Chapter Ten

  “Who knew you had such a filthy mouth on you?” Becca teased, tipping her drink to Chloe in salute. “Don’t worry. I don’t think the kids could actually hear what you were saying over the noise of the crowd.”

  Chloe shrugged and sipped her beer, pretending she hadn’t wanted to completely die of embarrassment when Ryan saw her screaming like a nut at the game. She’d slunk down in her seat, reminding herself that it was just sex. There was zero reason for her to be so invested. Zero. So why had her heart been beating double time? And why had her palms been all sweaty? Maybe those were typical reactions to hockey violence. That was probably it. Whatever the cause, it wasn’t exactly her finest hour. She’d vowed to keep her head down and her mouth shut for the rest of the game.

  Which had proven easier said than done.

  It was a fast-paced, hard-hitting sixty minutes. By the time the buzzer sounded, she was emotionally drained from the adrenaline rollercoaster. Thankfully, the Rangers had pulled it out, three to two.

  When Becca had begged her to grab a beer after the game, it had been a no brainer. Needing something to distract her mind and her libido from Ryan Douglas, she hadn’t even argued when Becca insisted they cab it uptown, hell-bent on scoring a table at some trendy new club. It was the kind of place Chloe herself would have relished spending an evening not too long ago. The kind of place where she’d met Dave the Douche. She hardly needed a reminder of how well that had turned out. Which meant it was time to think happy thoughts.

  “What did you think of the Garden of Dreams spot?” she asked, swirling her beer.

  Becca pressed her lips into a flat line, apparently weighing her response. “I’m no expert, but if it brought in that kind of money from just one showing, you’ve got a winner on your hands.”

  “Here’s hoping,” Chloe agreed, a warm glow spreading over her body. It was hard to remember the last time she’d been so proud of her work. When the GoD donations flashed on the big screen at the end of the game, she’d nearly gone into shock. She’d hoped the kids would melt a few hearts, but in her wildest dreams she hadn’t expected donations to surpass six figures. It was surreal. “We’ll be able to throw the kids one hell of a Christmas party!”

  “Best ever!” Becca agreed, eyes scanning the crowded club.

  “Looking for someone?” Chloe grinned. She’d know that look anywhere.

  “No.” The other woman replied automatically, redirecting her gaze to Chloe. The blood that rushed to her cheeks told a different story. “Just you, me, and a whole lot of Jose tonight.” She signaled the waitress and ordered a round of shots.

  Just as they were finishing their second round of beers, there was a commotion on the VIP balcony. Both Chloe and Becca turned to see security block off the lower landing as the Rangers’ players lumbered up the stairs.

  “Son-of-a-bitching-god-damn-mother-freaking-karma!” Chloe swore, throwing her hands in the air and rolling her eyes at the ceiling. “Can’t I get a break for one night? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been on my best behavior.”

  Becca avoided her gaze, shifting uncomfortably and looking guilty as sin. Well, didn’t that just figure? Her new friend had a mischievous streak.

  “Did you know they were going to be here?” Chloe asked, resigned to her fate and scanning the club for the nearest exit. Ryan hadn’t seen her yet. Maybe she could still sneak out without looking like a stalker.

  “I may have overheard the guys talking about it during sound bites yesterday.” Becca flashed an evil grin. “What? We work side by side with them all the time and I still haven’t gotten to meet Gabe Wright. He’s only been to one event this season, and like the cool chick I am, I took one look at those dimples and choked! I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.” She groaned, looking utterly horrified by her own behavior

  “Trust me. You’re not missing anything. They’re a bunch of self-involved asshats,” Chloe assured her. She nodded at the security guard blocking access to the VIP area. They’d been in the club less than a minute, but already a horde of women had gathered, waiting to be invited up. “Besides, judging by the looks of it, you won’t be meeting him tonight anyway.”

  The other woman sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, disappointment radiating from her every movement. “They can’t all be that bad.” She sniffed. “Look at all the charity work they do.”

  Since she had no reasonable counterargument, Chloe did the next best thing and ordered a conciliatory drink for Becca, figuring she owed the other woman at least one more round before calling it a night. It was a big club. She’d be gone before Ryan ever knew she was there.

  Or not. It wasn’t long before she felt the telltale burn of Ryan’s gaze on the back of her neck. Doing her best to ignore him, she focused on the conversation with Becca, leaning toward the other woman and using every last drop of willpower to avoid looking up into that balcony. Several women had been admitted, and the last thing she needed was to see one of them draped all over Ryan. Not that she cared what he did. After all, she knew his type, didn’t she? Too bad Becca’s eyes kept shifting that direction. When she couldn’t take it any longer, Chloe excused herself and went in search of the bathroom.

  She shimmied through the crowd, getting pushed around more than she would have liked in the pulsating club. Still, it was better than being a sitting duck under Ryan’s demanding gaze. In the bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face and ordered herself to pull it together. Sure it had been a strange night, but it was almost over. She just had to hang in a little longer. Turning from the sink, she bumped into a woman who’d apparently missed the memo on personal space.

  “So you’re dating Ryan?”

  It wasn’t so much a question as an accusation. She brought her eyes up slowly, taking in the lithe blonde who stood in front of her. Had to be Kelsey, the ex-girlfriend from hell, who Ryan had mentioned was now dating another player. And of course she was freaking gorgeous. Tall, thin, immaculately dressed. Chloe gave herself a mental face palm. It would be a lot easier to hold her ground if she actually felt confident. But standing face-to-face with Ryan’s supermodel ex? Yeah, confident was nowhere on the list of things she was feeling.

  Kelsey crossed her arms over her chest, literally looking down at Chloe from the top of her to-die-for calf-hair Burberry pumps. “Let me give you a little friendly advice, you know, girlfriend to girlfriend. If you like the lifestyle, I suggest you move on.”

  “Excuse me?” What the hell was she even supposed to say to something like that? Thanks for the tip, but I’m not a after his money. I’m just in it for the sex.

  “Tonight’s game was a fluke. Ryan will never make a full recovery. He’s never had to work hard for anything—girls, grades, hockey.” She flipped her hair in that holier-than-thou way popular girls learned to do in middle school. “I’d know. We were together for six years. Trust me on this. Don’t waste your time. When things gets tough, he’ll crack.”

  What a heartless bitch. No way was this chick going to intimidate her. Or scare her off. Or whatever she was trying to do. Besides, it wasn’t like she and Ryan were an actual couple. Far from it.

  Wouldn’t nice girl etiquette say kill ’em with kindness?

  Screw. That.

  “Now let me give you a little friendly advice, you know, girlfriend to girlfriend.” Chloe smirked and stepped around Kelsey, pulling the door open. “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, sweetie. You’ll drive yourself crazy.”

  On that note, she marched back to the table, head held high, feeling light as air, re
ady to grab Becca and get the hell out of dodge. Only Becca had different plans, plans that apparently included heading up to the VIP section with the team.

  “No way,” Chloe said, shaking her head emphatically and silently cursing the fact that her night had gone from amazing to shit-tastic in the span of just a few minutes. This was Ryan’s doing. She knew it right down to her ovaries, which were suddenly very alert. “No. Way. I’m sorry, but it’s not happening.”

  “Oh, it’s happening,” Becca said with a wicked smile, grabbing Chloe’s arm and dragging her toward the stairs. “They’re celebrating and they invited us up for a drink. It would be rude not to accept, and I am not missing my chance to meet Gabe.”

  Chloe arched her brow. “You two are on a first name basis now?”

  Becca squealed and pulled Chloe close, ignoring her sarcasm. “I can’t believe I’m going to meet Gabe Wright.”

  Being dragged to a VIP party against her will? Not how she planned to spend her night, but if she was going, then she was going to make it worth her while. One drink wouldn’t kill her and no way was she going to let Ryan or Kelsey or anyone else manipulate her. It was time to turn the tables. Ryan wanted her to come upstairs for a drink and play nice? She’d show him nice. And she fully intended to wrangle a little more holiday cheer for Garden of Dreams while she was at it.

  Ryan watched in awe as Chloe threw back a shot of whiskey and chased it with her beer, shaking her wild mane of curls as if she could cast off the sting of the alcohol. Jordy and Chloe were proving to be fast friends, and the half-pint would be toe up in no time if she didn’t slow down. There was no way she could keep up with him. Jordy had thrown down the gauntlet and she’d accepted with her usual bravado. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she purposely goaded Jordy into challenging her.