Rookie (Seattle Sharks Book 4)

by Samantha Whiskey

  I miss you.

  I need you.

  I can’t ever have you.

  The words clogged my throat, my lips parting to say . . . one or none of the above, but the waiter took that opportunity to bring the main course. A plate of risotto with carrot puree and seared pork belly with leeks.

  I quickly shoveled one perfect bite into my mouth, stifling a moan. The flavor-combos were always perfection but Nine had outdone herself this time. I’d have to buy her a present, and one for Katherine, too.

  “Oh my god,” Chloe said, not even trying to cover her moan. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at that comment, useless against the image that filled my mind.

  Chloe on her knees, devouring me in the bed of my pick-up truck under the night sky.

  Fucking hell.

  Would there ever be a time where I could sit and talk with her without thinking about our past?

  I continued to eat, savoring the flavors and the excuse to make words . . . since they flew out the fucking window the second Chloe had said she’d missed me.

  I knew it had been an effort to admit it—from the pained look on her face—but I didn’t have a clue how to respond. Her being back in my life was something I’d never counted on, and now I was floundering.

  “How is it you’re not married?” I blurted after I watched her eyes roll back in her head after another bite.

  She straightened in her chair, the fork clattering against her plate as her hand dropped too suddenly. A few seconds and she’d regained her composure, quicker than me.

  How is that the question I picked? Asshole.

  “We’re just going to skip all small-talk and dive head-first into heavy?” She tried to tease but her voice cracked.

  I fastened a sly grin to my face, eyeing her, enjoying watching the pulse in her neck pick up speed. “Heavy, Chloe, would be a much different question. I think the one I asked is pretty light, all things considered.”

  She huffed a laugh and shook her head. “Still confident and not scared to challenge me, I see.”

  “Never,” I said. “You think I’ve changed so much?”

  “I know you have,” she said, that pain flashing in her eyes again.

  Damn.

  Why is it she looked at me like I’d hurt her when it was the other way around?

  And why the hell did I want to take that pain away so badly?

  “Not in a bad way,” she quickly said, eyeing what must’ve been a crease between my brows. “I’m . . . so proud of you.”

  The words shook me to my core. She’d said as much the last day I saw her. The day she told me to go after my dreams and leave her behind.

  More like—I won’t come with you.

  I cleared my throat, finishing my whiskey and catching the eye of our waiter to request another one. I might need a whole damn bottle. Thank goodness for Rory lending me his driver tonight—another favor I’d called in. I knew he wouldn’t need it tonight, he was on baby duty while Bailey and Paige caught a show.

  “You’re avoiding the question,” I finally managed to find my voice again. Right about the time I sipped my second whiskey.

  She took her last bite, closing her eyes as if the process of eating Jeannine’s food was an intimate affair.

  It sort of was, but damn if she didn’t make my slacks tighten from just the look of her. I shifted in my seat, telling my dick to calm the fuck down. Not only was this the girl who’d shredded my heart, she was now the most off-limits chick in town.

  “I dated after . . .” Her breath caught on something sharp but she pushed on. “Only one got serious. And it never really clicked like it was supposed to. He—” The waiter came to clear our plates, effectively cutting off her words. “Anyway,” she continued after he’d left, “it wasn’t right. I don’t think I ever want to get married, honestly.” She picked up her second whiskey and took a good long drink.

  My fist curled under the table. The look in her eyes when she mentioned that one relationship was enough to make me want to seek out the bastard who put the fear there and break his jaw. What had he done to her? Or was I just seeing green because she’d admitted to being with someone else?

  I had no right.

  She wasn’t mine.

  Hadn’t been for a long time.

  She’ll always be mine.

  Fuck, my head and heart were having a hard time getting their shit together.

  “You used to want to get married—a small ceremony by the river, if I remember correctly,” I said, totally bull shitting. I remembered every detail because when she’d painted that picture all those years ago, I’d played the role of the groom. “Wanted a ranch-style house with two English bulldogs to start, and then four babies. Didn’t matter the sex. Just the number four.”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes glittering a bit as she shifted in her seat. She tried to hide behind her whiskey glass, taking a few sips before setting it down. “I can’t believe you remember all that.”

  “I remember everything,” I said, my eyes never leaving hers.

  Heat crackled between us.

  A buzzing energy that pulled taut.

  I wanted to shove away the table between us and yank her onto my lap, claim her mouth and remind her just how good I could make her feel. Kiss her and touch her until the pain and fear were gone from her eyes and the only emotion she could compute was bliss.

  “I remember someone saying he’d rather have four bulldogs than four babies.” She chuckled, and it filled my heart so much it hurt.

  “I was a kid,” I said. “Babies seemed like a huge undertaking.”

  “And four dogs didn’t?”

  “Dogs don’t require life lessons.”

  Another laugh.

  Another crack in my resolve.

  This was my friend.

  The one who bantered with me, called me on my bull shit, pushed me to be better—on and off the ice. She’s always been my biggest supporter . . . until she wasn’t.

  “And now?” she asked. “You looked pretty at ease, cooing Katherine to sleep at Gage’s barbecue.” She swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

  Somehow that motion was sexier than if she’d opened her legs beneath the table.

  “I love the guy’s kids,” I said. “Babies aren’t so intimidating to me anymore.”

  Her lips pressed into a line to hide her smile. “See. Changed,” she said, raising her glass to me. “Again, for the better.”

  I clinked my glass against hers. “I’m certainly better at some things than I used to be,” I teased.

  “Oh, I would love to find out.” The words slipped past her lips, and she jolted, setting her glass down like the whiskey had made her say it.

  I raised my brows, the connection between us sizzling and aching, begging to be played with. Something in her eyes was open, inviting, and just this side of scared. She hadn’t meant to say it, but she meant it all right.

  The realization was enough to make me hard, and I let out a low growl.

  How easy it would be to slide my hand across the table and feel her skin. Test the lines we were walking, see if they’d be worth crossing.

  Fuck me, I knew they’d be worth it.

  “Chloe,” I said, my voice too low, too raspy.

  “Dessert,” our waiter said, manifesting at the worst and best fucking time.

  He set a chocolate concoction in the center of the table and laid two spoons between us. “Enjoy,” he said before trotting off.

  Holy hell saved by the brownie.

  I’d been about to suggest we get the hell out of there.

  Go back to my place where I could prove to her just how much better I was.

  I couldn’t be that stupid.

  Not just for my heart’s sake.

  But because she was off-limits, and my career was everything to me.

  “That’s a work of art,” she said, holding her spoon like she didn’t know where to start. “Not a dess
ert.”

  “That’s Nine,” I said, happy my voice was slightly back to normal.

  My hard-on? Not so much.

  I stabbed into my side of the chocolate, wishing like hell it could quell the primal urges inside me—the ones screaming at me to claim what was once mine.

  Claim her so well she’d never leave me again.

  Two hours, countless reminiscing, laughs, and whiskeys later, we stumbled out of Nine’s with full bellies and hearts.

  Or, at least, mine was.

  Despite all my efforts to keep her at a friendly length, she’d easily slipped right back into my heart. That laugh, the way her nose crinkled when I told an embarrassing story from her past, the way she’d fired back with one of her own—it was like coming home.

  “Thank you so much for tonight, Bent,” she said as we stood outside her apartment complex, Rory’s driver waiting patiently inside the car.

  I eyed the precarious looking building. “You live here?”

  She chuckled. “No, I just wanted you to bring me here,” she teased. “I’m going to knock on random doors until someone takes me in.”

  “If you needed a place to stay all you had to do was ask,” I said before I could think twice about it.

  Good God, Chloe as a roommate?

  I wouldn’t survive.

  Her eyes flew wide like she was thinking the same thing I was before she shook her head. “I wanted a studio.”

  I cocked a brow at her.

  “I’m minimalizing,” she said. “No more than I need. That’s my new thing.”

  I nodded. “Interesting.”

  “Anyway, I really did have a wonderful time.”

  “I did too,” I admitted.

  Only a breath of space separated us as I reached for her, unsure if I should shoulder tap or hug or kiss the living hell out of her.

  Halfway there, I decided on hug.

  Her arms easily wrapped around my abdomen, her head pressed against my chest, the place where my heart beat.

  For her.

  I shut down the thought, as well as every other red-hot image flashing through my mind.

  Her body fit perfectly against mine, and she smelled so, so damn good. I wanted to run my fingers through her hair, see if it was as silky as I remembered.

  “Bent,” she said as she pulled back just enough to look up at me.

  Whiskey-hazed eyes, hooded and inviting. An unspoken question on her lips as she clung to me.

  One tilt of my head, and my lips would sweep over hers.

  Lightning crackled in my skull, begging me to touch the spark.

  “Chloe,” I whispered, shaking my head. “You’re . . . we can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

  Fuck me what was I saying?

  Every urge in my body screamed to hook my arms under her perfect ass, spin her until her back was against the car, and make her sigh my name. See how quickly I could get her off and then how many more times after. To worship her for hours with time we’d never had before.

  Time we didn’t have now.

  Because this couldn’t happen.

  “I know.” She stepped out of the embrace, the air cold from her departure. “I’m so sorry, Bentley. I didn’t mean . . . I’ve ruined a perfectly good evening,” she chided herself. “Just when I thought I was getting my friend back.”

  “You didn’t ruin anything,” I said. “I am back. I mean—” I sighed. “I’m here. We’re here. And we’re . . .”

  “Going to figure it out?” she asked, hopeful.

  “Yeah,” I said, blowing out a tight breath. I motioned between us. “This is . . . intense. But, we work together now . . .”

  “And we both desperately need our jobs.”

  “Right.” Though the longer I kept looking at those pouty lips and lust-filled eyes, I was starting to contemplate just how badly I needed to be a Shark.

  Clearly, I was losing my mind.

  “Friends?” she asked, offering her hand.

  “A handshake?” I laughed, the motion clearing some of the tension in my shoulders. “Okay.” I gripped her hand gently, noting how she trembled slightly from the touch. “Friends,” I said, though it felt like a knife to the fucking heart.

  “Goodnight, Bent.” She stepped back, spun on her heels, and clicked up a flight of stairs just inside the complex.

  I watched every step she took, needing to know she made it inside her door safely, but also needing to watch the way her hips swished when she walked.

  Friends.

  Forbidden.

  Fuck. My. Fucking. Life.

  Chapter 6

  Chloe

  “Nice speed, Rogers,” the coach yelled as the Sharks sped across the ice an hour into their practice.

  A bloom of pride swelled in the center of my chest as I watched from my chosen spot in the stands.

  Sure, I had paperwork calling my name from my office, but I couldn’t miss my first chance to see the guys in action. It’d help me spot any weaknesses—if they had any—or any danger zones for certain players.

  Plus, I was dying to see Bentley skate again.

  He was glorious on the ice—faster than a shark and as graceful as a figure skater. Each of his muscles worked in sync with the other, pushing him faster, keeping him solid, allowing him to focus on the puck or the stick in his hand.

  Our dinner last night swelled in my mind, my cheeks blazing.

  The conversation had been hard, yet easy.

  Stories fun and yet painful to reminisce.

  And when he’d dropped me off at my place? God, I’d wanted him to kiss me so bad my thighs shook. I craved his kiss like I was that same love-struck girl from all those years ago.

  But at least he’d been able to be reasonable and shut down my lust-starved mind.

  Our jobs were on the line.

  The coach had made that perfectly clear.

  It wasn’t just about the sex though—the fact that I hadn’t had a good romp in so many years. No, it was about Bentley. About the way he made me feel. The way he’d always made me feel.

  Safe.

  Loved.

  Cherished.

  And with just enough danger in his actions to keep every day exciting.

  My best friend—once.

  That is what my heart missed.

  What my soul cried out for.

  After what had happened between me and my ex . . . I knew how much I’d taken for granted the way Bentley had treated me.

  “Hi, Chloe,” Bailey’s voice sounded from my left as she climbed the stairs. “Mind if we sit next to you?”

  Paige and Jeannine were right behind her.

  “Of course,” I said, smiling at them and glancing at their empty arms without being able to help it.

  Bailey chuckled. “Grandma day,” she explained.

  “Oh how nice,” I said as they took their seats.

  “How are our boys looking?” Paige asked, crossing one slack covered leg over the other.

  A bit fancy for the rink but perhaps she’d come from work? We’d briefly chatted about her position at Gage’s barbecue. She was a powerhouse in the corporate world and a gold star in the charity circuit—pretty much the perfect woman to match a wildcard like Rory Jackson.

  “Great,” I said, and eyed Bailey. “I looked at Gage’s shoulder yesterday, and he’s healed wonderfully despite there still being pain.” I glanced toward Jeannine. “Warren needs to take care of his left knee, but he doesn’t seem keen to talk about it.”

  Jeannine laughed. “Yeah, he came home last night grumbling about it. He’ll come around, you just have to give him time.”

  “I’m prepared to do that,” I said. “I know it’s tough for them, but I am really just here to help.”

  “We get that,” Bailey said. “And the guys will too.”

  “What about mine?” Paige asked.

  I chuckled, following her gaze to Rory on the ice. “Yours,” I said, “is trouble.”

  She laughed. “That’s the truth.�
��

  “I’m terrified of his sense of humor,” I admitted. “I believe he’ll be the one to rib me most.”

  “You aren’t wrong,” Paige said. “But his heart is in the right place.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “What about the rookie?” Bailey asked, sounding so much like Gage in that instant I almost laughed again.

  He’s the best was on the tip of my tongue, but I pressed my lips into a line to keep from spilling my secrets.

  “Uh oh,” Jeannine said. “Is he at risk for injury?” Her eyes were frantic as she found him on the ice. I didn’t need to search, I’d been tracking his movements for what felt like my entire life.

  “No,” I said. “He’s in excellent shape.”

  “That’s a relief,” Bailey said, the other girls nodding. “He’s become a real staple at the house. Lettie is super attached. I’d hate for him to get hurt.”

  “Me too,” I said, a certain wistfulness coloring my tone.

  “Uh oh,” Jeannine said again, her eyes locked on me.

  “What?” I asked, my hands flying to my face. “Do I have something on my face?”

  “You look like you have it—”

  “Nine,” Bailey chided, cutting her off.

  “Like I have it what?”

  Bailey shook her head, and Jeannine shrugged. “Nothing.”

  I swallowed hard.

  Damn, was it that easy to tell?

  No. I was a professional.

  Surely they were talking about something else. Some inside joke I wasn’t privy to. The idea stung even though it shouldn’t. It wasn’t their fault I had zero friends here—well, one ex-friend who haunted my every thought. Though, we were on the road to finding common ground, but I still didn’t know where we stood.

  “I almost feel bad for you,” Paige said, and I whipped my head to her as if she’d read my mind. “Because you’re surrounded by Sharks all the time.”

  I blew out a breath. “Right,” I said, rubbing my palms on my thighs. “Well, I’ve been around their kind for what feels like forever. So I’m used to it.”

  “Oh, I bet you have the best locker room stories,” Jeannine said. “Care to share over drinks?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  The girls shared a confused glance.