Chapter 1
Ryan
Practicing our slap shots was my favorite part of practice. It wasn’t just because it was fun to show off a bit since I had the best slap shot on the team. This drill was one of the last ones, which meant we were almost done. Jason Campbell, my defensive line mate, set up on the top of the circle opposite from where I was. Our friend, and my neighbor at the apartment complex where I lived, Alec Rourke, setup at center ice on the blue line while his line mate moved past me to the bottom of the circle. Alec didn’t wait long before he fired a pass to Jason, who cycled it to me for a one timer that sailed straight into the net.
Snagging a puck, Jason passed it to Alec. When his shot went high and slammed into the boards, I flashed him a cocky grin. “Shut it, Forrester. We all know you’re the king of the slap shot,” he growled.
“Only because he keeps calling himself that,” Jason laughed, sending the puck Alec’s line mate had passed to him my way.
Raising my stick, I pivoted my hips and put some extra force into my already powerful shot. My aim didn’t suffer for it, and the puck crashed into the back of the net. “What can I say?” I shrugged my shoulders. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it. Right?”
“I thought flaunting it was puck bunny territory?” Jason asked.
“Ask Ryan, he’d know,” Alec replied.
Their gazes turned my way. “Like I’m the puck bunny expert? Alec would know just as well as me,” I snapped. “Better even, since I’ve been staying away from them.”
“Oh, yeah? Since when?” Alec snorted.
Coach sent a glare our way, and we started cycling the puck for slap shots again. It didn’t stop Jason from sticking his nose in my business, though. “Now that you mention it, I guess you have been flying solo lately. I hadn’t noticed it before because I’ve had my own stuff going on with Cee-Cee. What’s up with that? Did I miss something?”
“Just a mystery woman who ruined puck bunnies for me forever,” I mumbled, wincing at the memory of how shitty I’d felt when I woke up alone after the last time I’d hooked up with someone. Just the memory of her gave me a semi, while being near any other woman since then had my dick shriveling and my balls trying to creep back up into my body. Not that I was going to share shit like that with the guys. Some things were better left unspoken.
The blowing of a well-timed whistle dragged their attention away from me and the story I wanted to keep to myself. “Bring it in, guys!” Coach hollered.
We skated to center ice and took a knee in front of him. As I dropped down, my muscles protested. Hockey seasons were long, and at that moment I swore I felt every minute we’d spent on the ice.
“I’ve got good news and better news for you guys. Which do you want first?” our coach asked, his lips tilting up in a smirk.
I didn’t trust that look.
Or his tone of voice.
And definitely not the gleam in his eye.
He was happy about something, and Coach was never happy. Not during season, anyway. Win or lose, he was always serious. I had a feeling that we weren’t going to agree with his classification of the news he had. Some of it was going to be bad—at least from our point of view.
“Good!” about half the team yelled out.
“Better!” the other half hollered.
“Neither,” I mumbled under my breath, earning me an elbow in the ribs from Jason.
Coach rubbed his hands together in excitement, and I jerked my head in his direction as I turned to glare at my line mate. “Just wait for it,” I hissed at him.
“I guess I’ll start with the good news since it makes more sense to do it that way anyway,” Coach chuckled. “The data guys in the office were doing some number crunching, and our playoff chances are looking better and better each week. They said we have a ninety-eight percent chance of securing our spot. As long as you guys keep playing the way you have been lately—which you damn well better do—we can clinch it by the end of this weekend.”
Jason nudged me. “See, it’s good news. Stop being such a suspicious bastard.”
“And there’s something better than that?” our team captain asked. We all wanted the championship cup badly, but none more than him. It was his last season before retirement, and for him nothing would beat going out on top.
“The better news is that I’ve secured a power skating coach who’ll make the most of the month we have until the start of the playoffs to improve your speed on the ice. Starting today.”
Tired groans echoed around the rink. We’d just finished a grueling practice, and I was beyond ready to hit the locker room and take a shower. “Told you so,” I muttered.
Jason shrugged. “Don’t be a dick. It’s not like this is the end of the world. We’ll do some extra skating drills; so what?”
Coach held up his hand, putting a stop to all of our grumbling and side conversations. “I don’t want to hear it, guys. Every single team in this league is looking for little things to make themselves better, and I’ve found us someone who can give us that. At the level of game play we’ll be facing in the playoffs, even a one percent improvement on your speed can make the difference between winning and losing. So suck it up and do what needs to be done to help us get to the championship.”
“You heard Coach,” our captain called out. “I used to do power skating camps back in my youth hockey league, and they helped make me the player I am today.”
Several guys nodded in agreement, including Jason. “He’s right, man.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, as I tried to shake off my exhaustion and get ready to skate hard. “I know.”
At our coach’s signal, I shuffled to my feet along with everyone else. “Do a few laps,” he ordered. “She should be here soon.”
“She?” The question echoed around the rink, voiced by several of the guys including me.
“Yes, she,” Coach responded, stressing the second word. “And I don’t want any bullshit about it because we’re damn lucky to have gotten her to fit these sessions with us into her training schedule.”
“Training schedule? What is she, a figure skater? I bet I could out-skate any figure skater any day of the week,” one of the rookies snorted.
“You heard Coach; shut it!” our captain chastised. “Besides which, you’re being a dipshit since some of the best power skating coaches are figure skaters.”
“They are,” Coach agreed. “And there’s nothing wrong with that because there’s a lot that a figure skater could teach you guys about using the edges on your blades. But Miss Antonov isn’t a figure skater. She’s a speed skater. The best one in the country. Hell, make that the world since she’s got the Olympic gold medals to prove it. She’s coming straight here from a big win at the World Single Distance Championships this weekend.” He turned his attention to the rookie who’d mouthed off. “And you can mouth off all you want, but she’d beat you in a race without even breaking a sweat.”
The rookie nodded jerkily and skated off to lap around the rink.
“Coach sure told him,” I laughed. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it’d be to get beat by a girl on the ice? We’re professional hockey players, for fuck’s sake.”
Jason’s gaze darted over my shoulder, and his eyes widened in surprise. I started to turn my head to look behind me, but it was a good thing that I didn’t do it quickly or else the smack I took across the back of my helmet would have landed on my jaw. Even though my visor only protected my eyes and nose, the hit wasn’t hard enough to hurt. But it would have been a blow to my ego to take a slap to the face in front of the whole team. Especially from the stunning blonde with dark brown eyes that’d delivered it. The one who’d rocked my world after an away game in Anaheim and then disappeared before the sun came up the next morning. The sight of her accomplished something no other woman had been able to do for months—she made my cock hard as steel.
It was uncomfortable as fuck to stand there with my dick pressing against the confines of my cup, but it was worth
it to know that I was able to get it up again. And it was all thanks to the beauty who was glaring at me like she’d like nothing more than to shove her skate up my ass.
Fuck me and my big mouth. Or not fuck, considering I’d probably screwed my chances to ever have her in my bed again.
Chapter 2
Tamara
“Sorry,” I mumbled, glaring at the last guy on Earth I’d expected to see again. I didn’t bother to try to sound like I really meant it. Because I didn’t. Not really. I might have felt slightly bad about hitting him except that I was sure he barely felt it through his helmet. And he’d earned it with the sexist comment he’d made, even if he hadn’t known that I was going to overhear what he’d said. At least I could take comfort in the knowledge that I’d been right to bail on him after our one-night stand, even though I’d been second-guessing myself ever since because it’d been so fucking good between us.
If I hadn’t been so tired, I probably would have been able to resist the urge to hit him. But after a long trip to Norway for the ISU Speed Skating World Cup and an expected sixteen hours of travel time to get home that somehow turned into thirty-one because of delayed flights at both of my layovers in Copenhagen and Heathrow, I wasn’t in the mood to take crap from anybody. Not even if it was a guy who knew my body intimately and was sexy enough to look hot when he was dressed in full hockey gear and wearing a helmet with a partial visor.
Skating away from him, I joined their coach at center ice. He nodded at me, seemingly unconcerned that I’d just hit one of his players on the back of his helmet. Then again, this was hockey so I was sure he’d seen worse during a practice before.
The guys who were doing laps around the ice skated over to us. “Since there seems to be some skepticism about my ability to teach you guys anything about skating, how about we settle this on the ice?” I let my gaze skim over the team before it landed on Ryan. “You up for the challenge?”
The confident grin he flashed me was incredibly annoying, but it also sent goosebumps up my arms that had nothing to do with the temperature of the rink. “Sure. I’m up for whatever you want to throw my way.”
The guy he’d been mouthing off to when I’d skated onto the ice whacked him in the shin with his stick, and I offered him a grateful smile before turning my attention back to the mouthy, sexy player who deserved to be taken down a peg. I was just the woman to do it too.
Skating closer to the boards, I stopped at the nearest blue line and pointed at the spot next to me. “C’mon, then. One lap around the rink’s perimeter. First one of us to cross the blue line wins.”
He didn’t hesitate to take me up on the challenge, handing his stick, gloves, and helmet off to the teammate standing closest to him. His dark hair was sweaty and sticking up in places, but it didn’t take away from his good looks. Not with the way his hazel eyes gleamed and the cocky tilt to his full lips surrounded by a closely trimmed mustache and beard. My heart started to beat faster, and it had nothing to do with the race we were about to begin. No, it was due to my reaction to him—a completely unwanted one since all indications pointed towards him being totally wrong for me no matter how good he was in bed. I dealt with enough cocky bastards professionally. I didn’t need to add one to my personal life.
“Ready?” he asked when he situated himself next to me.
“You’d better believe it,” I quipped, dragging my gaze away from his and focusing on the team’s coach. “Can you do the countdown for us and judge who wins? Not that there’ll be much doubt since I plan to beat him by a big enough margin that it’ll be obvious to everyone which one of us is faster—and better equipped to run power skating drills for the team.”
“I sure can,” the coach chuckled.
“Too bad I don’t have my phone with me. I could take a photo to commemorate the day a woman made Ryan eat his words after he made an ass out of himself,” one of the players added, winking at me.
Based on the low growl in his throat and the glare he gave the guy; Ryan didn’t appreciate what his teammate had to say as much as I had. Then he bent his legs, positioning his skates so he could push off quickly, and nodded at his coach to let him know he was ready.
Crouching low, I nodded as well and then aimed all of my focus forward. I shut off all thoughts except for the skate ahead of me, tensing as I heard the coach call out, “Three.”
I took a deep breath. “Two.”
And another. “One.”
I burst forward on a sharp exhale as soon as he yelled, “Go!”
Legs pumping as hard as I could go, arms swinging in unison, I powered ahead. Ryan was in my peripheral vision past the red line at center ice, crossing over the other blue line, and circling around it again. If it’d been a short sprint, he might have been able to beat me. But he started to edge back the tiniest bit as we crossed the center line again. And as we round the curve behind the net, I pushed myself even harder to reach the place where we’d started so I’d get there well ahead of him. I dug deep on the last few strides, and it was worth it because I crossed the blue line a couple of seconds ahead of Ryan.
“Miss Antonov wins!” the coach yelled. “And that’s why I hired her, boys. There’s a lot that you can learn from her, so head to the center of the ice and get ready to skate your asses off.”
“It’s Tamara, please,” I panted. “Miss Antonov makes me want to look over my shoulder for my mom.”
“Shit, you’re fast,” Ryan huffed.
“And I’ve got the gold medals to show for it.” I winked at him before turning to face the rest of the team. “Now that I’ve given all of you a demonstration of how fast I can skate, how about you do the same for me? Line up at the blue line”—I jerked a thumb over my shoulder—“show me what you’ve got.”
When he didn’t move, I turned to Ryan and lifted an eyebrow. “You’d better get moving before your teammates leave you in their snow.”
“But I already showed you how fast I am on my skates.”
“Fast?” the teammate who had Ryan’s equipment laughed. He kicked the gloves towards us before skating over and handing the stick and helmet to Ryan. “Did you miss the part where she kicked your ass?”
I beamed a smile his way, nodding. “Exactly.”
“She beat me, but not by that much,” Ryan grumbled, earning him a glare from me that had him backpedaling. “I’m not saying you didn’t win. You did. I’m just saying that—”
I held up my hand, and his friend jabbed him in the side with an elbow. “Dude, shut up. You’re just making it worse.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “Mouthing off earned you the race against me. You can consider it a warm-up since I’m not going to reward you for your bad behavior by letting you skip out on the team skate.”
His teammate laughed and skated towards the blue line. Ryan shook his head, but he turned to follow after his friend without any further complaint. When he stopped to toss his helmet, gloves, and stick onto the bench, I decided to cut him a little bit of slack. “But I have another reason for wanting you to skate with the rest of your team. It’ll allow me to focus on their stride while also being able to judge how fast they are, based on how they measure up to you.”
He flashed me a smug grin over his shoulder. “A few of the forwards might be faster than me on the ice, but I can assure you that none of them measure up to me off it—something you’re damn well aware of already.”
“Alrighty then,” I grumbled to myself as my cheeks heated. Shaking it off, I skated to the other side of the ice and positioned myself behind the net. “Ready?” After getting a bunch of nods, I pulled a whistle out of my pocket and hung it around my neck. Lifting it to my lips, I blew and the guys sprung forward in a race to where I stood. I repeated the process several times, until I felt like I had a decent handle on who the fastest skaters on the team were. And damn if Ryan wasn’t right—four of the forwards beat him consistently, but he was the fastest of the defensive players for all but one of the races.
“
Good job, guys,” I offered as I moved from behind the net to stand in front of them. I raised my voice to make sure it carried to everyone, and took the time to scan the line and make eye contact with each and every player. “You’re pro hockey players, and you wouldn’t have made it here if you couldn’t skate. You know it.” I paused to glance at Ryan, and he offered me an apologetic smile. “Your coach knows it, and I know it. Nobody is saying that you’re bad skaters, but I can make you faster.”
“How can you do that?” one of the centers asked.
“That’s a great question. I’m glad you asked,” I complimented him. “As a speed skater, I know things that can help you to be more efficient on the ice because that’s what I’ve been trained to do since I first stepped on the ice when I was two years old. The more efficient you are, the easier it is to go faster and the less tired you’ll be.”
Ryan stunned me by chiming in with a supportive comment. “We’re also less likely to get hurt if we aren’t tired, and that’s more important than ever since we can’t afford to lose anyone right before the playoffs.”
It sounded like I’d convinced the cocky defenseman that a girl had something to teach pro hockey players, but it remained to be seen if he could prove to me that he wasn’t the ass he seemed to be with his earlier comments. For some reason—one that I refused to admit had anything to do with how sexy he was and the way he’d made by body feel during our one night together months ago—I found myself hoping he’d manage to do it.
Chapter 3
Ryan
By the time Tamara finished running us through drills, I was dripping with sweat and beyond exhausted. She’d worked us hard in a short amount of time, focusing on getting us to skate with more knee bend and developing more power by pushing to the side.
“The things I’m working on with you may seem like small changes, but I get that they’re also difficult adjustments to make since you’ve been skating one way for your entire lives and now I’m trying to make you do it differently. With how comfortable you all are on the ice, I know it’s almost like telling you to walk differently.”
Team Player: A Sports Romance Anthology Page 21
