The Shots On Goal Series Box Set

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  “But?” I could sense that there was more to it than that, and I yearned to keep her talking as long as humanly possible.

  She handed me another beer, popping the tab for me out of habit. “I don’t know. Work is all I do.”

  “Be careful, you don’t want to burn yourself out.” I had never had a real job in my fucking life. I went from playing hockey or playing hockey to playing more hockey. I had no idea what it was like for her to have to work a blue-collar job, and I had never felt more like a prick in my entire damn life than I did in that very moment. An overwhelming desire to steal her away so she never had to work another late night again consumed me. I was about to get up the nerve to grab her hand and pull her into a dark corner to talk more privately but I missed my opportunity.

  “Whistler! McBee!” Jordan yelled, diverting her attention to Sean and his wife as they walked through the living room.

  Jessica’s face lit up as she bee-lined it for Jordan. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy seeing Sean and Jess, they were freaking awesome people – two of the coolest cops in New York City. I just hated that I kept missing my opportunities with Jordan. Maybe it was a sign – who the fuck knows.

  “Well, isn’t this a surprise! The newlyweds are gracing us with their presence,” I joked before congratulating Gavin’s best friend and his new bride. Sean, Jessica, Jordan, and I made small talk for a few minutes as we made our way out onto the wooden deck out back. I knew I couldn’t be selfish and take all of Jordan’s time, but I sure fucking wanted to with every damn fiber of my being.

  Jordan

  “You know he is crazy about you right?” Karla whispered in my ear as Crosby glanced at me from across the patio.

  Jessica walked over with cheeseburgers for me and Karla. “Who’s crazy about you?”

  I shook my head. “We’re just friends.”

  “Oh, Will and Jordan.” Jess took the seat across the table from us. “Sure, whatever you say.” Her pursed lips and eye roll made my entire body prickle with embarrassment. Am I really that transparent?

  Fidgeting with the hem at the bottom of my dress, I turned to her. “Seriously, have you seen the women he has been with? His ex-wife, supermodel. His last two girlfriends, supermodel and professional tennis player. Guys like him don’t slum it with chicks like me.” I hated thinking about the other women that Crosby had been with. They were all airheads that I was forced to play nice with whenever he would bring them around. They were usually short lived romances – but still, they irked me.

  Karla cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me. “They are all exes for a reason, my dear. Don’t you think Brayden and Gavin have supermodels and professional athletes as notches on their belts? And look at them now.”

  “I think Gavin’s ex-fiancée, that crazy one…what the hell was her name?” Jessica was racking her brain for the wicked witch’s name.

  “Marsheila,” I answered. I hated even thinking about how terrible that day was for Gavin and the rest of us. Picking up those pieces was horrible for Sean and me.

  “Yeah, her. That cunt is an A-list actress.”

  “Touché.” I took another sip of my tequila slammer and I was about to continue my argument as to why Will Crosby didn’t think of me as more than just his teammate’s childhood friend but right as I opened my mouth, he walked up to us.

  I froze as his dark green eyes narrowed and locked onto me. His husky build towered over us as I ogled his muscles, trying to not drool.

  “Karla, Jess, do you mind if I steal Ms. Bates for a second?” Crosby held his hand out to me and my heart skipped a beat.

  “She’s all yours, Will. I need to go check on the kids anyway.” Karla got up to make her way into the house to check that all the children weren’t driving the nanny up a wall. Jessica followed her inside and I was whisked over to a gaggle of broad-chested hockey players. I recognized all of them as players on the team, but the only one I knew well enough to feel comfortable around was Chase Harding.

  “What can I do you for?” I giggled a little and wanted to slap myself for how silly I had just sounded.

  Crosby wrapped his arm around my shoulders nonchalantly before stating, “I need you to settle a little debate we’re having.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  In his think French accent, Felix Beaulieu explained, “We are debating on the actual recipe for a Horsefeather. I had one the other night for the first time and it was magnifique!”

  “It’s made with rye whiskey, ginger beer, and bitters, with a lemon wedge as a garnish. I haven’t made one of those in ages.” Leave it to Will to use me to settle a debate – typical. I was happy to help but a little sad that all he needed me for was the treasure trove of drink recipes I had stored in my brain.

  “See, I told you it was ginger beer, not ginger ale!” Crosby pointed down to me. “This chick is the best damn bartender ever.”

  My face got hot as I glanced up at him—his strong stubble-ridden jaw, his dark green eyes, his perfectly styled hair, the black button-down perfectly hugging his chest and biceps. I was a melting puddle of girl-jello on the spot.

  “Eh, I don’t know about best ever, but I do know my way around a bar quite well.”

  It wasn’t enough that I had the biggest crush on Crosby; being surrounded by all of his incredibly talented and hot teammates made it that much worse. I had grown up around the Otters since Gavin and I met when we were in elementary school so it wasn’t like I was a gushy fangirl or anything, but I was still in awe of them.

  Myla popped over to me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of my hunk-induced daze just in time to save me from swooning a little too much. I hated that she was taking my attention away from Crosby, but her smiling giddiness was adorable as she sweetly asked, “Are you working on Sunday?” She asked quickly.

  “I have family dinner, like every Sunday.” The thought of trying to convince Dad and my brothers to let me out of cooking for them was enough to make me feel anxious.

  “Damn. I forgot about that!” Myla tapped her finger on her pouting lip. “What about Thursday? Do you work that night?”

  “I don’t have to. Vince needs to be weaned off of me taking care of everything at the bar anyway. Why? What’s up?” I asked, taking the last sip of my drink.

  “Come to the game with us. I’ll have a box, and it has been too long since we all went to an Otters game together and cheered on our boys.”

  “Count me in!” I had been working so much that the only time I was able to enjoy the games were the quick moments I was able to catch my breath in between mixing cocktails and dealing with annoying customers.

  Myla bounced on her heels, pure jubilance emanating from her. “Perfect! It’s a date then.”

  “I’ve actually been meaning to give you a call, but work has just had me swamped these last few weeks.” It had been a while since I had seen Myla and the rest of the Hayes family. It was at her brother-in-law’s birthday dinner and I had been meaning to touch base on how everything played out for him.

  Myla stopped her jittering to walk over with me to sit on a bench. “Oh yeah? What’s up?”

  “How’s everything going with Griffin? Ever since his breakup and birthday, I’ve been a little worried about the kid.” Gavin’s little brother had been dumped the night before his birthday and was going through a mild quarter-life crisis.

  “I don’t know much. You know how easy it is to get a straight answer from the guy. All I know is that he is using a PI and looking for the donor’s daughter.”

  When Griffin was a teenager, he got a bad infection and needed a heart transplant. The night of his birthday party, Myla and I helped convince him to find the donor’s daughter to help him get some closure on the situation.

  “I’m glad he is going to look for her. I hope it all works out.”

  Myla chewed on her lower lip. “I just hope he doesn’t end up even more hurt and confused than he already is.”

  “Yeah, for sure. Griffin has
definitely been through enough. Another letdown is the last thing he needs.”

  Chapter 3

  Jordan

  I glanced at the clock on the far wall in my father’s kitchen. Any minute now my brothers, their wives, and their children were going to be wreaking havoc on my childhood home.

  “Need any help in there?” Dad called from his recliner in the family room.

  Grabbing a beer, I made my way in to join him for a second to check the score on the Yankees game. “I got it all under control. Everything is almost finished, Pop. Here.”

  Dad took the beer from me. “Thanks sweetheart.” He looked so cute sitting with his faded blue ball cap on with his lucky shirt and matching socks. To say the man was superstitious was a complete understatement.

  “How’s the game?” I leaned on the plush arm of his favorite chair.

  “Eh.” Dad cracked his beer can open, huffing. “Bottom of the seventh. Chapman is pissing me off, walking way too many guys this game.”

  I couldn’t say I gave even a rat’s ass about baseball, but my father and brothers fucking loved it, so I pretended to care for their sakes.

  “Have you heard anything from Jacob this week? Is Janet going to grace us with her presence today?”

  My dad chuckled. “Fingers crossed, she doesn’t. Last week was so enjoyable without her awful faces. What do you call those again?”

  “Resting bitch face.” I laughed along with my dad.

  “Well, for Jacob’s sake, I hope they settle their differences. I hate seeing him going through all of this.”

  Dad did his usual shoulder shrug with his hands up in the air, and that was the end of the conversation. He hated the drama his daughters-in-law all caused the family. Life was much simpler when it was just the five of us. Having three older brothers, each with a wife and two kids, the quiet house became nothing short of a warzone for a few hours once a week. Even though it was stressful, I loved every second of the bat-shit-crazy Bates Family Sunday Funday.

  I made my way back into the kitchen to make sure I had everything perfect for the night.

  Pot roast almost done—check.

  Childproofing—check.

  Plenty of beer and wine in the fridge—check.

  German chocolate cake cooling—check.

  A few minutes after I finished making the coconut icing for our dessert, the front door flew open and the sounds of yelling and running engulfed the house.

  “Wesley, Brad! What did I tell you about jumping on the couch!” Jennie shrilled as she came to my side, already pulling a bottle of chardonnay out of her purse. “Please, for the love of all things holy, tell me you have a bottle already chilled and open.”

  Taking the warm bottle out of her hand, I opened the wine cooler to grab her a bottle I’d opened right when I got to the house a few hours before. “Come on, do you think I would ever forget?”

  I poured her a glass and she gripped it in her hands like I had just handed her the last cup of wine on the planet. “Bless you.”

  Jennie was my favorite out of my brothers’ wives. She had been around since forever and was the most like me out of the three. She and my brother, Noah, were high school sweethearts, and she was as much a part of the family as my brothers and I were. Even though Jennie was six years older than me, she never treated me like a kid. It was nice having her around especially when I was in high school since my good-for-nothing mother ran out when I was still in diapers.

  “Any sight of Janet?” I asked under my breath as I poured myself a glass of wine.

  She nodded, her eyes wide. She pointed straight into the living room where the ice queen herself sat with her arms folded and a perfect look of disgust plastered on her face.

  I slunk down onto the stool next to Jennie. “This is going to be an interesting evening.”

  Carey, Jacob and Janet’s youngest daughter, waddled in wearing nothing but her diaper, screaming her head off. I jumped down, kneeling in front of my little niece. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “Brad stole my lolli!” Tears streamed down her face.

  Jennie heaved up from her seat. “He did what?” She marched over to her son, grabbed him by his arm, and dragged him right over to his cousin. “Apologize and give her the candy back.”

  “But Mom, it’s mine now.” The six-year-old was the hellion of the family, but he did have a little heart of gold when all was said and done.

  “I don’t care if you think the world is yours, you do not steal from your baby cousin. Give it back or so help me. Do you want me to get your father involved?”

  “No! Here!” He shoved the sucker into the crying baby’s hand and ran off to dive into his next inevitable bout of terror.

  After getting all six of my nieces and nephews settled at the kids table, it was finally time for dinner.

  “To family.” My dad raised his beer can high in the air and we all clanked our beverages together—well, all of us except Janet, who wasn’t paying any attention to the group. Her eyes were glued to God-knows-what on her phone.

  “Janet, is that a new lipstick? The color is just gorgeous with your complexion.” Alice tried her hardest to engage Janet, but her compliment fell on deaf ears.

  I glared at Jacob from across the table and he just tensed his shoulders before looking over to our father and asking, “How’s work going, Pop?”

  “Same old shit, different day. I’m just looking forward to summer when the lawn business can crank back up.”

  Dad owned four businesses and countless rental properties all over New York. He’d planned on each of us taking one of them over eventually, but we had all gone our separate ways. Being the investment banker that he was, Jacob was chomping at the bit for the day Dad was ready to start selling off his companies. All that guy cared about was dollar signs, which was clearly the only thing he had in common with his gold digger of a wife, who was sitting next to him and still ignoring the rest of the family. I just didn’t get it. Janet was exactly like our mother was—or at least from what I had been told. How did he not see the signs? What a wonderful case for Freud to overanalyze.

  Liam cleared his throat. “Alice and I have some exciting news.” We all turned to him as he took his wife’s hand.

  Alice looked at her husband then looked right at my dad. “We’re expecting another baby. I’m just about ten weeks pregnant.”

  Finally, Janet looked up from her phone long enough to mutter, “Another Bates baby, lovely.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was being condescending or if she really just had no emotion at all in her entire emaciated body.

  We all congratulated my brother and sister-in-law.

  “I think this calls for champagne.” I pushed away from the table and made my way into the solace of the kitchen. It wasn’t that I wasn’t thrilled to be having another niece or nephew to dote over, I was just a little jealous. All of my brothers had incredible careers and growing families, and I couldn’t help but be a little salty about it. We all were drifting. If it wasn’t for the Sunday tradition, we wouldn’t talk to see each other except for holidays. Other than Dad and Jennie, I didn’t feel close with any of them. It made me sad at times, but I figured it was normal. People grow up and get consumed with their own shit, right?

  Jennie popped her head in as I stood at the sink, staring out into the back yard through the tiny window. “Hey Jordan, you good?” She started grabbing the champagne flutes down from the cabinet.

  “Fantastic! Why?” I put a towel over the cork and popped the bottle.

  She grabbed the whiskey from the freezer and poured us each a shot. “Don’t you think I know you a little better than that?”

  I pursed my lips, getting lost in the amber nectar for a second. “I just want it to finally be my turn to have news like that.”

  “You’re young! Enjoy the single life as long as you can. Trust me, you’re not missing much, and in due time you’ll find the right guy and start popping out little Jordans.”

  I b
lushed a little thinking about Will. Throwing back the shot, I coughed a bit. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Now, let’s get trashed and see how many times Janet ignores us.”

  “I think tonight was the first time she actually spoke more than two words.” I put the flutes on a tray and followed Jennie back into the dining room.

  Chapter 4

  Crosby

  My alarm clock started chirping much sooner than I would have wanted it to and I groaned as I stretched out my tight back. My hamstring was still tense from the game a few nights back, and it was mornings like this when I was reminded that I wasn’t a young rookie anymore. Even though I was barely thirty, I felt as if my expiration date was coming sooner than I’d have liked. I brushed off the notion, touching my toes for a few seconds. Hell, if Roberto Luongo could still be one of the best goalies in the league at thirty-eight, I was perfectly fine. Hobbling, I made my way into the bathroom to soak in a sweltering bath before I had to get to practice.

  Most of the time I came off as a hard-ass jock who knew how to play hockey and that’s about it, but little did most people know, I loved nothing more than to relax in a bubble bath and read on my Kindle. As lame as it was, it was nice to escape reality from time to time and just get lost in another world.

  I grabbed my e-reader, scrolling through my endless library of new downloads and old favorites. Chuck Palahniuk had always been a go-to author for me ever since I first read Fight Club when I was in high school, and rereading Lullaby seemed to be the perfect start to my day. I swiftly dove in, hurriedly getting to one of my favorite parts.

  I read my favorite line out loud: “Maybe you don’t go to hell for the things you do. Maybe you go to hell for the things you don’t do. The things you don’t finish.” I let the words sink in and resonate for a bit; they were just so powerful. Regret was something I never wanted to have. Jordan swiftly popped into my head. Maybe it was time to finally do something about my long-term pining.