Bad Reputation

by Nicole Edwards

  She appears in front of me, rolling her eyes before passing me a fresh beer, then flopping down on the cushion right beside me. “That’s a stupid plan, Chase. And no, I never agreed to it.”

  “Well, you should have.” It would have kept me from barging in. Maybe. Okay, probably not, but still.

  I grin, enjoying the fact that I’m still here and the douchebag is now gone. I’d like to say that I planned it that way, but that’s not true. It just works out for me sometimes.

  My nostrils flare and it’s possible some of my nose hairs have been singed off.

  “I don’t mean to be rude—”

  “Yes you do,” she interrupts.

  Cassie looks so damn cute right now even if she does have some serious bed-head. I prop my arm over her shoulder and tug her close, despite the stench.

  I clear my throat. “I don’t mean to be rude,” I repeat, “but you need a shower, honey. You reek of his cheap fucking cologne.”

  “It is bad, huh?”

  That’s an understatement.

  “Oh, God, he was awful,” Cassie groans as she covers her face with one hand.

  I tilt my head, trying to look at her face. Her head’s resting on my shoulder, so it’s nearly impossible. “Seriously? Yet you opted to loosen the bolts on your headboard with the guy?”

  For the record, the thought of Cassie screwing this guy—or any guy for that matter—makes me want to put my fist through the wall. My abdominal muscles literally contract because it turns my stomach. Yet, I’ve perfected the art of pretending not to be bothered by it. After all, she is my best friend and if I intend to keep her in that role—which I certainly do—then I have no choice.

  Cassie will be the first to tell you that relationships are not her thing. And she has good reason, I guess.

  “We were not loosening the bolts.” She sighs. “God, Chase, you’re so crass.” Cassie takes a sip of her beer. “Seriously,” she says, a hint of defeat in her tone. “We didn’t even get to the sex part.”

  “You had on his shirt,” I inform her unnecessarily.

  “I had clothes on underneath. Sort of.”

  “So y’all were mattress surfing and you had your bra and panties on?” The guy has officially been promoted to King Douche. “You were showing him how it’s done, huh?”

  “Shut up.”

  I laugh. “What the hell was he doing?”

  “Some might call it kissing.”

  Oh, hell. I lean back more, trying to read her expression. “Some?”

  “Yeah.” Cassie turns her head, locking her eyes with mine. I’m close enough I can see the strands of gray mixed in with the blue. “You know. Dogs, maybe. His tongue…” She shivers as she says this.

  “Well, it’s a damn good thing I showed up then.”

  Her hand lands on my stomach with a loud thwap.

  Did I mention I fucking love when she touches me? Even if it is accompanied by a little pain.

  “No. It’s not. You can’t do that, Chase. You seriously can’t. I’m never going to find a guy if you’re always coming over and chasing them off.”

  Kind of the plan, but denial is the name of the game.

  “I didn’t chase him off.” I’m honestly surprised the dude didn’t pee his pants. “He could’ve easily told me to get the fuck out. That’s what I would’ve done.”

  Cassie sighs, but she doesn’t argue.

  Because she knows it’s the truth.

  Cassie

  Chase Barrett is a world-class asshole.

  Plus, he’s a serious pain in my ass.

  He also happens to be my best friend, so I can excuse his actions most of the time. Tonight…I think it’s safe to say he went a little too far. No way did he miss the fact that Andrew’s car was parked in my driveway. He knew I had company, yet he let himself in anyway.

  I know I should be mad at him for what he did. I really should. But the truth is, his timing couldn’t have been better. If I had spent a few minutes more with Andrew the Tongue, I would have given him a complex. Kissing him was unlike anything I’ve ever known, and I’m not talking in a way every man wants to hear.

  So, why was I with him? Half-naked to boot?

  God, I don’t even know. I’d been holding on to hope, thinking perhaps he might be The One. You know, if that even is a thing, which I seriously doubt. But I’ve reached a new pinnacle in my life, one where I’m trying to think outside the box my warped and twisted upbringing has created when it comes to things like love.

  No, I probably shouldn’t have gotten semi-naked with him, but it is what it is. We’ve gone on three dates now and honestly, he’s a nice guy. A tad on the boring side, but nice nonetheless. No, I wasn’t thinking he was my everlasting love, but this isn’t the Stone Age, I’m allowed to have some casual sex.

  At least that’s what Chase always tells me.

  So, I tried.

  I also failed, but I’d like to think I get props for giving it a shot.

  Turns out, I’m not the casual-sex kind of girl. I’ve never done it before. In fact, I’ve had sex with a total of two guys in all of my twenty-eight years. Both of whom I was in a semi-serious relationship with. Not at the same time, of course.

  Regardless, I was invested in the relationships, hence the reason I had sex with them. This whole, casually getting naked thing…certainly not my cup of tea. I don’t think I’ll be trying again anytime in the near future.

  “How’d you meet this one?” Chase shifts slightly, getting more comfortable as he sips his beer. Before I can stop him, he props his giant feet up on my coffee table.

  I instantly reach over and try to knock his legs down. The guy has thighs like tree trunks, so that’s an impossible feat. “Feet on the floor, caveman.” He doesn’t budge, of course. I take a drink, then close my eyes. “He’s a software developer.”

  “So he works with you?”

  “Not with me, no.”

  “That doesn’t tell me how you met him. Was he giving you a hands-on lesson in how to turn software into hardware?”

  I smack him again. “You’re despicable. That’s gross.”

  Chase plants his hand over mine, keeping me from hitting him again. I feel his abs flex beneath my palm.

  “He’s gonna be at the conference in June, so he wanted to stop by and talk to me about opportunities. We’re finalizing the details.”

  “Opportunities to get in your pants,” Chase mumbles, his voice ringing with amusement.

  “Whatever.”

  “This thing in Vegas?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And what? He thought if he could sweet talk your panties off, he could go as your sidekick?”

  I snort. Some of the things Chase says…“No. There was no sweet-talking involved.”

  Chase grips my wrist and I peer up at him. His iridescent blue eyes are wide with mock horror. “You were giving it up for free? Have I not taught you anything, child?”

  Considering I’m a year older than Chase, he gets a kick out of calling me that.

  But, he’s right. I don’t think I held out long enough. And honestly, Chase has been trying to school me in the art of casual hookups. I mean, he is the king after all.

  It’s no secret that Chase Barrett is a total manwhore. The only thing that makes it semi-okay is that he treats women like royalty. Not kidding. Any woman who has done the deed with him has moved on with her life feeling like a princess. Not a single woman in his sordid past has ever said anything bad about him. He’s the love-’em-and-leave-’em type, yet every single one would probably give him another go if he simply snapped his fingers. I don’t know how he does it either.

  If rumors are true—which I cannot verify, nor do I have any desire to—then it’s quite possibly due to how well endowed the man is. Chase has since stopped bragging about the size of his penis—having grown out of the adolescent phase of his life finally—but I’ve heard it plenty of times over the years. Not only from him either. Which is weird, but whatever.
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br />   Perhaps it’s his boyish good looks with his strategically mussed dark hair and contrasting glowing blue eyes. It could be the hard angles of his face or the small scars and slightly crooked nose that add to the whole bad-boy vibe. Or maybe it’s the sensuous curve of his lip when he’s amused. The fact that he’s a well-known hockey player who makes several million dollars a year, with a body worthy of a hockey-hottie calendar, probably doesn’t hurt either. I honestly don’t know.

  “So, are you going to hit him up for another round? Try the horizontal mambo again?”

  “No.” That’s the truth.

  It’s safe to say I won’t be seeing Andrew again. Even if I could get past the fact that he tried to lick all my makeup off, I can’t do it. I shouldn’t have brought him back here tonight.

  “I think you should thank me for saving your ass. Imagine how you would’ve felt in the morning.”

  “There will be no thank-yous,” I inform him, snuggling against his shoulder once more. It’s definitely time to change the subject. “Y’all lost last night.”

  “Give the woman a cookie!” Chase announces gruffly, tipping his beer back as he shifts away slightly. I can hear the disappointment in his tone.

  “You sat in the box for only eight minutes. Slacker. I know you can do better than that.”

  Chase chuckles.

  “However, I think you’ll be happy to know that you once again lead the league in penalty minutes.”

  His dark eyebrows lift in question.

  “One twenty-two.” I grin. “As of the last time I checked the stats.”

  “That’s more than last year.”

  “It is. But Sampson’s a close second.” Hopefully Chase isn’t trying to top himself every year. There will come a time when he sits in the box more than he’s out on the ice. Which would be an interesting accomplishment, now that I think about it.

  “Scott Sampson?”

  I nod. “Plays for Ottawa.”

  He sighs. “I’ve only got a couple more games to widen my lead.”

  “Does that mean the Tornadoes are out of the playoffs?” They needed five points to secure the wild card, but with last night’s loss and only two games left, that leaves them statistically out.

  “That’s what it means.”

  “You had a good run this year.” That’s not a lie. Chase’s stats for the season are incredible. For instance, Chase has 63 points this year alone, despite all of those penalty minutes. It’s one of the reasons he’s the top paid on the team. Plus, he was the No. 2 pick in the NHL entry draft in 2009 and the fans freaking love him.

  I know all this because I pay attention to hockey.

  To be fair, I wasn’t a fan of the sport until I met Chase back at the University of Wisconsin. He was seeking a statistics tutor and I’d signed up to be one. One night, when he backed out on our tutoring session, he tried to make it up to me by offering me tickets to one of his games. I’ve been hooked ever since.

  “Yep.” Chase’s confirmation rings with defeat.

  I hate that I so easily managed to wipe the smile off his face with my comment. “When’s the season officially over?”

  “Saturday’s the last regular season game.”

  So, only a couple of days away.

  “Then what’ll you do?”

  “Who knows.”

  Knowing Chase, he’ll spend the summer doubling up on workouts, attempting to get into even better shape than he already is. That’s the way he rolls. If he isn’t playing hockey, he’s training to play hockey.

  Or he’s banging one of the bunnies who worship at his feet. But I try not to think about that because…well, because I have better things to think about.

  I turn my attention to the television for a moment. He’s watching hockey highlights, which isn’t at all surprising. We sit like that for a few minutes, finishing our beers. I can tell he came over so I could cheer him up, only I’m not feeling all that cheerful myself right now. I didn’t think things were going to get serious with Andrew, but honestly, I was enjoying the attention. Sure, I probably showed my gratitude a little too well by nearly sleeping with him, but you live and learn.

  The truth is, I’ve had this feeling that I’m running out of time to find a man, have a family, live happily ever after. Not that I’ve been searching for any of those things, nor am I positive they even exist. At least not for me, anyway. But secretly, there’s a girl deep inside me who has always had plans to have the whole white picket fence, a husband, and 2.5 kids. Yet I’ve been so focused on my career, it seems I’ve ignored that little dream of mine.

  Okay, so no, Andrew would not have been able to fill the fictitious future-husband shoes and make that dream a reality. He was merely a careless attempt on my part to pretend otherwise.

  Thankfully, I do have the Vegas conference coming up, which means I’ll be incredibly busy for the next few weeks. It takes months to prepare for this event. My company—a well-known corporation that specializes in mobile devices and computers—does it every single year and this is one that will go down in the record books. Being that we’re introducing some astonishing breakthroughs in technology via our yearly keynote, it’s imperative that we deliver the information in a way that gets consumers excited. I’ve spent countless hours planning for the upcoming release to the world, and we’re close to ready, but not quite.

  However, I don’t want to think about work right now, so I peer over at Chase. “You know, I could take a couple of days off at the end of the month and we can go home to see your dads.”

  Although I lean toward the whole “it’s a small world” theory, Chase likes to claim that I’m secretly his stalker and that’s why I was at the University of Wisconsin at the same time he was. Turns out, Chase is from Madison and I’m from Middleton, which means we grew up roughly fifteen minutes apart. His dads live less than ten miles away from my mother and potential Husband No. 5.

  “And your mom?” he inquires, glancing over at me.

  I sigh. I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t mention seeing her, but this is Chase. He’s always attempting to find a way to fix me. I think he believes the secret is to repair the damage between my mother and me.

  It’s not that simple.

  “Maybe,” I say. “I’m not making any promises.”

  “But you’re wanting to chill with my dads? You miss them, don’t you?”

  I giggle. And yes, I kind of do miss them. Robert and Frank are awesome.

  “Yes, I’ll admit that I miss them. So, I figure we’ll go up there, hang for a bit, and come back before you kick off your grueling summer training.”

  Chase grins. “I like where your head’s at, Desrosiers.”

  “Good. It’s settled then.”

  Chase’s eyes remain focused on the television. “Cool. You and Nat still coming to my last game on Saturday?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Maybe we can go out after.”

  “If you’re up for it, sure.” I like hanging out with Chase. He’s fun. But even he can’t deny he’s a party pooper on nights they lose.

  Chase glances down at me, cocking one thick, dark eyebrow. “Are you jinxing me, Desrosiers?”

  His hand slowly moves and I know I have to pay close attention. I can see his intention in his eyes.

  I chuckle, then shift away, trying to dig myself into the cushions. “Don’t you dare tickle me.” I laugh, attempting to dodge his hand before he can get too close.

  Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough and the next thing I know, I’m on the floor, Chase is dangling off the couch above me, his fingers digging into my ribs as he tickles the crap out of me. I hate when he does it, but I always know it’s coming.

  “Stop!” I can hardly breathe. “I hate that. You know I do.” I’m giggling uncontrollably and trying not to spill my beer, which only makes the breathing thing more difficult. “Chase…”

  He pauses, still staring down at me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “We’re going out after the ga
me, no matter what. And I’m making it my personal mission to ensure you get a proper hookup while we’re out. No pretentious, Jaguar-driving, Dockers-wearing, pansy-ass momma’s boys either.”

  “He wasn’t wearing Dockers,” I argue, still laughing.

  Although the rest is probably true.

  Chapter 3

  The Texas Tornadoes drafted Chase Barrett six years ago, back when Barrett was nothing more than a hot-headed kid in a grown man’s body. He’s made some significant improvements in his game over the years, hence the reason the Tornadoes bumped him to the first line after seeing what he can do. Alongside Dan Deteron and Mark Marcom, Barrett is nearly unstoppable. Unfortunately, that hasn’t translated into a Cup win for the Tornadoes yet, but having Barrett on the team has certainly drawn some serious attention, both from the fans and team management.

  —Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s Bad Boys of Sports edition

  Chase

  I’ll admit that I live for game days. In fact, it’s all I think about during the season.

  Hockey has been my dream since I first held a stick in my hand when I was three. I have to thank my fathers for introducing me to the sport. And no, that wasn’t a typo. I have two dads. It’s not a secret.

  Anyway, as they like to tell it, I was a natural from the start. It’s not true. Unlike some players, the whole gliding-on-ice thing didn’t work out so well for me in the beginning. It’s taken a shit ton of practice for me to be as good as I am on a pair of blades. Thankfully, neither of them ever gave up on me.

  On the other hand, puck handling is my thing. My position as first-line left wing allows me all the opportunity I need to show off my skills. That and needling the shit out of my opponents. Like now, as we stand in the circle waiting for the puck to drop. I lift my stick and wave it in front of the big guy’s face. Not close enough to touch him, of course. But enough that I get his attention, which earns me a few curse words while we wait.

  I grin. “It’s cool, Doodle-fucker, you’ll get your chance.”

  The guy’s name is Duedlemeyer or some shit like that, but I find my creative twist gets his panties in a bunch. Since that’s my endgame, I’d say I hit my mark.