Penalty Kill

by Brynn Paulin

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Penalty Kill

  Copyright

  Thank You!

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Brynn Paulin

  Penalty Kill

  By Brynn Paulin

  Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  www.supernovaindie.com

  Powered by Your Imagination

  Penalty Kill

  by

  Brynn Paulin

  Sometimes, you do crazy things. And sometimes, they come back to bite you in the butt.

  That would be me—the butt bite-ee. The one bitten. I thought I was in the clear, but then my “almost” one-night stand shows up to stare me in the face.

  A month ago, I almost took the leap and hooked up with the drop-dead gorgeous, younger man. I chickened out. But now that he’s found me, he’s not about to let me run.

  And I’m considering it. What could go wrong? No one needs to know, right?

  Except for the part where he’s a big-time hockey hotshot. Suddenly, I'm finding out there’s no such thing as a secret when it comes to sports stars, and everyone knows. And now I have to decide. Do I say puck it, and go for this bad-boy who really knows how to use his hockey stick or do I run as fast as I can for the safety of my old, boring life? Thing is, he's made it clear, I can run, but I can never hide. I’m his.

  Copyright

  © 2020, Brynn Paulin

  Penalty Kill

  Cover Art by Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Electronic Format ISBN: 978-1-62344-346-7

  Published by: Supernova Indie Publishing Services, LLC

  Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  Thank You!

  Thank you for your purchase of Penalty Kill.

  I hope you enjoy the story and will consider leaving a review or telling a friend about the book.

  I love hearing from readers! To keep in touch and follow my news, please visit me on my website at www.brynnpaulin.com.

  Dedication

  For Veronica, Kristin, NaShara, Audrey and Lois.

  I’m still a diehard Wings fan,

  but I love loving hockey alongside you.

  And for Mercedes who loves and encourages

  all my older women/younger man stories.

  Here you go!

  Chapter One

  ~ Jane ~

  Sometimes, you do crazy things. And sometimes, they come back to bite you in the ass.

  That would be me—the ass bite-ee. The one bitten. And right now, my past was looking me in the face, in the form of my “almost” one-night stand.

  “Brayden,” I rasped, eyes wide as I looked from his determined stare to his fingers locked around the end of my cart. He had them laced through it, and there’d be no easy way for me to pull away.

  “Jane.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “It is Jane, right? Because when tried to find you, there was no Jane Robinson registered at the hotel.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to still my racing pulse—well, slow it anyway. As convenient as dropping dead would be right now, it probably wasn’t my best option.

  “Yes, it’s Jane.” I scanned him again, taking in his ripped body—his very young, ripped body. He smirked, obviously smug, at my blatant perusal. What had seemed like fun on a few bottles of wine, now seemed like a terrible idea while stone-cold sober in the frozen foods department of my local supermarket.

  That was something my friend, Sarah, had realized that night, a month ago. As the pregnant and therefore sober designated driver at my you-finally-broke-up-with-that-asshole party, she’d realized me hooking up with Brayden was a terrible idea. A tantalizing idea, but a really, really, really bad and possibly jailbait idea, nonetheless.

  She’d whisked me out of there as soon as Brayden had stepped away for a few minutes. Well, really, he hadn’t stepped away. I’d gone tell my group I planned to leave and spend the night with that “drool-worthy guy over there.” In retrospect, how embarrassing is that?

  The last I’d seen him had been when I’d given him the “just a second” signal then gone to talk with Sarah. She’d hightailed me out of there faster than I could down another shot of tequila—which is pretty fast.

  Now, taking in beautiful, dark-haired, blue-eyed Brayden, I could see why Sarah had yanked me from the hotel bar. Holy hell, he was beautiful. And young. So young. Probably ten years younger than me.

  “Look, Brayden… I was drunk that night. And just out of a really shitty relationship. I wasn’t thinking straight—”

  “Damn right,” he agreed. “You ran away instead of leaving with me. Or talking to me. Or explaining.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then how was it?” On someone else, that growl might have scared me. Instead, all my pleasure centers perked up and paid attention. What was the matter with me? I should be abandoning my cart and running.

  “Are you even legal?” I asked, rather than answering him. Did I sound breathy? Shit. I did. Not good. Not good at all. I needed to get out of here. Briefly, I reconsidered abandoning my cart, but I knew by the determined look in his eye, he’d just follow me.

  “Legal?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “Very. Jane, we met in a bar.”

  As if I needed the reminder.

  “You could have been using a fake ID.” Jesus, I was lame. Did I really say that? I waved my hand as if to erase the words. “Forget it. I spend too much time dealing with teenagers.”

  Hell, the teacher I’d replaced had been fired after her relationship with the school’s quarterback had been discovered. He’d been legal, but the school didn’t care. He’s still been a student. Since I was new, I didn’t dare do anything to raise brows.

  But when I really looked at Brayden under the harsh, unforgiving lights of the grocery department, I saw experience that proved him older than my students—but not by much. Still, it was there in his eyes.

  And who the hell does he think he is to look this hot under this fluorescent lighting? No one looks good under fluorescents. It’s a universal law.

  “So it’s an age thing? Jane…” he said, sounding disappointed with me.

  A stab of embarrassment hit me, then I shoved it away. No. I had a valid point. I gave him my best don’t mess with me, buddy look. Very effective on my students. Ineffective on Brayden. He grinned.

  “You’re adorable,” he said.

  I soldiered on. “I’m old enough to be your mom.”

  “I don’t think so. What are you? Twenty-eight?”

  “Uh…” I chuckled darkly. “No. And it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age.”

  His brow furrowed. “You’re younger than that? Sorry.”

  “Funny. No.” In fact, he was off by four years. “And if I was your mom, I’d teach you better manners and how to take a hint.” I couldn’t help my half-smile as I teased him. Somehow, he’d gotten me to relax a little.

  “My mother would admire my investigative nature. She’d agree my questions are pertinen
t to my goal.”

  “Your goal?”

  “Yes, my goal. You. Go out with me.”

  Okay…I hadn’t actually expected that, though I should have. I’d expected he’d say his piece, maybe tell me off for abandoning him, then leave, feeling vindicated.

  “Excuse me?”

  I’d heard him just fine, but I needed to buy a second to wrangle my scrambled thoughts. Half of me was off doing a rowdy happy-dance and throwing high-fives at his persistent attention. The other was screaming the alarm and telling me to run for the hills.

  “I think you heard me,” he replied, giving me no quarter. Without releasing my cart, he stepped closer. “Go out with me.”

  “Um…” I swallowed, my mouth as dry as the Sahara. What should I say? What should I do?

  Say yes, dummy, the jubilant side of me urged.

  Run, screamed the other half—for the record, I don’t have MPD. I’m just chronically circular in my thoughts. I’m an over-thinker if ever there was one. My mental pro-con lists could rival War and Peace.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Then don’t think. Just say yes.”

  “I…” The thing was: I really did want to say yes. Maybe if I gave him one date, he’d go away. And hell, if that thought didn’t make me dad. “Just dinner.”

  “We’ll see.” His reply was almost too quiet for me to hear, yet it sent chill bumps of anticipation shivering down my spine. “I won’t expect more, but let’s not rule out something after dinner.”

  “Brayden…”

  “Jane,” he growled. His blue eyes pierced mine, and I wondered what he saw in my hazel gaze. Fear? Probably fear. Because he was grinning like a wolf prowling after his prey. God, I hoped he couldn’t see the lust burning through me.

  Undoubtedly, he spied my indecision. His eyes narrowed as he assessed me, probably determining my flight risk factor. For the record, it was pretty high right then. Like, DEFCON 1 high.

  His hand shot out. “Give me your phone.”

  “Why? No.”

  “I’m not going to steal it. C’mon…”

  I shook my head.

  “You can hold mine, if it makes you feel better.”

  “A show me yours and I’ll show you mine? Cute.”

  He huffed a laugh. “My phone isn’t really what I want to show you.”

  He wiggled his fingers, urging me to hand over my cell. Sighing, I pulled it from the pocket of my jeans and put it in his palm. He grabbed my wrist then pressed my thumb to the unlock button. The man had a good memory. He’d seen me do that at the bar.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he noodled around on the screen.

  “Hang on.” He pulled out his phone and did something on it. Then he went back to mine.

  A moment later, his phone buzzed, then he handed back my cell. I shoved it in my pocket.

  “Now, we’re Facebook friends, and I have your number. And you have mine, too.”

  “You’re some kind of weird stalker, aren’t you? I should be running.”

  “You already ran. I’m taking countermeasures. And, no, I’m not a stalker.”

  “Said all stalkers everywhere.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “So dinner…?”

  “I already agreed,” I reminded him.

  “Tonight.” The guy didn’t waste any time.

  I pressed my lips together, still undecided even though I had agreed. I hadn’t said it would be anytime soon, though. I could wait until he’d aged a little.

  I mean, I was done aging—and yes, I know that sounds ridiculous, but my friends and I have a pact. No wrinkles. No more birthdays.

  Brayden stepped closer. One hand settled on my hip while the other cupped my head. His calloused thumb grazed over my cheek. For the life of me, I couldn’t step away. Something drew me irrevocably toward his flame. His sweet, intimate touch held me enraptured as awareness pounded through me. He probably felt my pulse thundering beneath his fingers. My breath stuttered as heat centered in my core, the cleft no doubt drenched from arousal.

  “Come out with me,” he urged in a whisper that seemed to tickle over my clit. “Tonight.”

  “Ms. Robinson, you have a boyfriend?” The teenage voice shocked me from my trance, and I jerked backward from Brayden. I turned toward my student, Mallory St. Clair, eyes wide.

  Get it under control, Jane!

  I took a deep breath. “Mallory.”

  She grinned widely, no doubt loving that she’d flustered me. What high school student wouldn’t? Mallory was a sweet girl, who never gave the staff a bit of a problem. Still…

  “He’s hot.” She eyed Brayden. “Really hot. Well done, Ms. Robinson.”

  Oh for Pete’s sake…

  Mallory held up her hand for a high-five, and I half-heartedly and definitely reluctantly returned it. Meanwhile, Brayden chuckled and slid his arm around my waist. It felt…uncomfortable yet still strangely right at the same time.

  He felt out his free hand. “Hi, Mallory. I’m Brayden.”

  Looking a bit in awe, Mallory shook his hand. Then she just stood there, gaping at him. “You’re Brayden Sterling,” she whispered, awe in her voice.

  He shifted, his smile becoming slightly strained. “Yes.”

  “Wow,” she breathed, glancing at me then back at him. “Wow…”

  My brow furrowed as my gaze shifted between them. “You know Brayden?”

  “Well, yeah.” Her voice had a definite duh quality to it. “I mean…I don’t know him, but I know of him. He plays for the Rapid City Lynx, my dad’s favorite team.”

  Chapter Two

  ~ Brayden ~

  “The Rapid City Lynx?” Jane repeated. “Right. Yeah.”

  She smiled, but I knew she had no idea.

  “Oh my gosh! I wish my dad was here,” Mallory gushed. She patted her pockets. “I don’t even have anything for you to sign.

  “How about a picture? You have a phone. Jane, will you take our picture?”

  “Sure,” she agreed, still appearing bemused as she took the eager girl’s phone. I moved to stand next to Mallory, leaving toward her since she was so much shorter than me, and keeping my hands in front of me in plain sight the way I’d been trained.

  Jane snapped the pic, then I pulled out my wallet and handed Mallory a card. “This is good for two tickets to a Lynx game. Bring your dad.”

  “Oh my God,” she yelled, jumping up and down and making me cringe. The last thing I needed was to draw a crowd. I shopped here all the time because people either didn’t know me or didn’t care who I was. I didn’t want that to change.

  “Uh, you’re welcome. Jane, can we…”

  She nodded, seeming to understand my problem. “I have everything I need, so I’m headed to the check out.” She looked pointedly at my empty hands. I hadn’t grabbed anything I’d come to the store to get. Seemed like a good time to look into delivery.

  We said goodbye to Mallory and walked away. I stuck with Jane, not wanting to let her from my sight. Somehow, we managed to get out of the store without mishap. About ten minutes later, we stood near her car in the parking lot. The bright late-spring daylight glinted off her light blonde hair, and even as she squinted her brown eyes against the sun, she was the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. I longed to run my hands over her, to hold her against me, to feel those soft curves against my hockey-honed muscle.

  “So you’re a professional player?” she said, dragging me from my brief fantasy.

  I didn’t really like the way she said player. It seemed a hell of a lot like she was implying something having nothing to with sports. “I play hockey.”

  “That would explain it,” she muttered.

  “Explain what?”

  Her eyes roved over me again, and my dick twitched at her perusal. Damn, the woman got my attention like none other. That she appreciated me as much as I did her was a boost to my hopes.

  “Your cocky attitude, for one.” She looked over my shoulder dismissively. It was a
defense mechanism. I was sure of it. I had three sisters, and I’d seen them do this move a time or twelve.

  I caught her chin with my fingers and turned her gaze back to me. “I don’t have a cocky attitude. I just know what I want.”

  “Oh really?” she snipped, pulling out of my grasp.

  “Really,” I said firmly. I leaned into her. “I want you.”

  “How old are you?” she deflected.

  “Not young enough to be your son. Or your student.” She’d told me she was a teacher back when we’d met in the bar. After meeting Mallory, I guessed that had been the truth.

  “And that would be?” she asked, not letting me hedge.

  “Twenty-two. Almost twenty-three.”

  She sighed and started pulling bags from her cart. I followed with the rest as she put the first ones in the backseat. “Why the sigh?” I asked.

  “You’re practically a kid.”

  “I’m not,” I said through my teeth. “Come out with me, and I’ll prove it.”

  “I already agreed.”

  “You agreed a few months ago, too, and look what happened. You ran out on me, so I’m guessing that doesn’t mean much.”

  She jerked upright from putting her bags in the vehicle and faced me, her arms crossed over her chest. “Obviously, you’ve lost faith in my word already, so why do you want to go out with me? I’m not a one off. Regardless of what I might have said after those couple shots, I’m not going to hop into bed with you. My friend hustled me out of there because that’s not me.”

  I purposely reached around her, brushing against her body as I reached into the car and deposited the bags I held. A smile curved my lips when I heard her intake of breath. I stood, standing close and facing her.

  “Because the second I saw you, I felt something—”

  “It’s called an erection. I hear it happens to men about a dozen times a day.”

  “Ha-ha. That, too.”

  “Regardless, Brayden, I can’t. It would be inappropriate for me to—”

  “To date me? I’m not a child. And you’re not that much older than me.”

  I shoved my hand through my hair and wondered why I was fighting so hard. Deep down, I just felt as if walking away would be the biggest mistake of my life. When she’d deserted me that night in the bar, it had felt as if I’d lost a part of myself. I couldn’t explain it to anyone. Who would understand it? If it hadn’t happened to me, I’d scoff.