Bad Reputation

by Nicole Edwards

  If you can’t have fun doing your job, you shouldn’t be doing it. That’s my motto anyway.

  Sure, I’ve got plenty of reasons to be out here pouting like a little bitch, but that’s not who I am. No, the Texas Tornadoes aren’t going to the playoffs this year. We won’t have the opportunity to win the Stanley Cup—something that has been out of our reach every damn year. We’re a team with only one Cup win to our name and that was so far in the past, most people don’t even remember it.

  But the fans who have flooded the arena to watch us only care about what happens here tonight. They’ve paid good money to freeze their asses off and drink overpriced beer, so they deserve to get their money’s worth.

  That’s what I intend to give them.

  I still as the ref gets ready to drop the puck. It’s go time, which means I have to focus.

  Our first-line center—Dan Deteron, aka Deter—wins the drop and takes control, then smacks it to our right-winger, Mark Marcom—aka Marky Mark. In turn, I make my way around, successfully hip-checking Doodle-fucker in the process. No, we won’t be friends when this is over, but if I wanted to make friends, I’d be a bartender.

  Their center intercepts, takes control, passes. I follow, racing down toward our goalie, past the two defensemen who are there to protect him. One thing the opposing team will tell you is that I’m relentless when it comes to the game. It’s the image I want to project. I want these guys sitting in the locker room warning one another to keep an eye out for me. It keeps them on their toes.

  I reach the puck first, which requires me to get an intimate introduction to the glass as Doodle-fucker slams into me. I’m now trapped against the boards. Of course, the big guy is at my back and he’s not being all that gentle.

  “Playing grab-ass won’t get you anywhere, Doodle-fucker,” I tell him, grinning.

  “Go fuck yourself,” he counters, shoving the handle of his stick in my chest as he tries to get control of the puck.

  “Anatomically impossible,” I inform him. “Unless you know something I don’t. Have you been successful?”

  He doesn’t find my joke amusing and when he retaliates by elbowing me in the face, I retaliate right back. I can handle a lot of shit. I can also dish out a lot of shit. But I don’t tolerate being bullied and this asshole just crossed the line.

  Which means it’s time for me to fight back.

  I think he expects it when I throw my gloves to the ice, because his come off immediately.

  Somebody should warm up my seat in the penalty box because that’s my next stop.

  Cassie

  “Fight!” someone yells from behind me and the crowd is instantly on their feet, cheering.

  “Ouch,” Natalie says, jerking as Chase takes a punch to the face.

  I’m holding my breath, praying this will end quickly and without blood. Thankfully, the refs intervene, pulling Chase off the guy shortly after the fight breaks out. Thirty seconds later, Chase is skating across the ice.

  “Do you see that shit?” Natalie whines from the seat next to me. “His ass is back in the box.”

  “Of course it is,” I tell her, taking my seat and sipping my wine as I glance down at Chase entering the penalty box. I’m used to seeing him there, as are most of the people who follow the Texas Tornadoes the way I do.

  “But that ass-wipe deserved it,” Natalie gripes. “Hell, he deserved for Sin to shove the stick up his ass.”

  I peer around, making sure there aren’t any kids within earshot of Natalie. Ah, crap. I see two, probably six or seven years old. Thankfully, they look pretty engaged in watching the big screen to see if they’ll be pictured up there at some point, so the chances that they heard Natalie’s potty mouth are slim. Good thing, too, considering Natalie Waters can outswear a sailor. Not to mention she can be quite graphic.

  I can’t even get on to the woman because it’ll do no good. She insists that since she has to be politically correct in the office, she’s allowed to do and say whatever she wants outside of it.

  “I don’t disagree,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean Chase didn’t deserve the penalty as well.”

  “At least it’s only a five-minute major. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve been ejected.”

  I chuckle. It’s true. He could have. But leave it to Natalie to find the tiny ray of sunshine.

  I’ve known Natalie for the same amount of time that I’ve lived in Texas, which equates to three and a half years now. Not only is she one of my closest friends, but she’s also my administrative assistant. That’s actually how we met.

  At the record-breaking age of twenty-four, I was promoted to the vice president of app development position, which required me to relocate from Wisconsin to Texas, and she was here, waiting for me, armed and ready to whip me into shape and keep me in line. Or so she likes to say.

  Truth is, it’s almost a full-time job simply keeping her from going off the rails. But she’s good at what she does, so I can’t complain too much. We meshed from day one. I think we’d been working together for all of a week when we realized we had so much in common, including our love of wine. That’s where the friendship came about.

  You’re probably wondering how Chase ended up in Texas. Well, he got here first. Had he not been drafted by Texas, I can’t say that I would have jumped at the opportunity to move here. Although the winters are significantly more bearable, the place lacks the four seasons I’m used to, providing only two—hot or cold. Usually only the former.

  Plus, I left most of my friends back in Wisconsin, though I can’t claim to have had that many there either. Because of my mother’s promiscuous lifestyle and her need to change husbands like she changes underwear, I spent a lot of time moving around. Sure, it was usually within five miles of the previous place we lived, but more often than not, I would end up changing schools. I found that focusing on my academics and not trying to fit in to the social circle was a whole lot easier than trying to make friends. I think it helped that I have a ridiculously high IQ. Most people preferred to keep their distance from the nerdy new girl.

  Aside from Chase, Natalie is the only other person I’ve spent any real time with in years. Because I work an average of sixty hours a week, I don’t get out much. It’s a wonder I have any friends at all. So, the two that I do have are extremely important to me. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for either of them and I know the reverse is also true.

  Although I have the pleasure of hanging out with Chase on a weekly basis, these days I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with Natalie outside of work because of that whole getting-ahead-in-life thing that seems to be getting in the way of all my fun. It’s not that I set out to spend all my time focused on my job, but it seems to be ingrained in me. I’m freakishly good at what I do and it gives me purpose, so that’s where I tend to focus my efforts.

  And, if I’m being honest, I’ve learned that when a company mentions work-life balance, they mean it’s optional. If you want to succeed at a rapid pace, it’s not an option. So, on the rare occasions when Natalie and I can get together, it’s usually at a hockey game where we chow down on stale popcorn or burnt pretzels and drink overpriced wine.

  When I met Natalie, she wasn’t much into hockey, but that quickly changed when she realized that I was best friends with Chase Barrett, aka Sin, aka the Bad Boy of Hockey. I think her words were something along the lines of “Oh, my God! You know Chase Mother Fucking Barrett? He is only the hottest guy in sports and I want to have his babies. Ten of them. Maybe twelve. Shit. I’ll go until my uterus gives out.”

  Surprisingly enough, Chase and Natalie have never hooked up, but I think that’s more because Chase promised he would keep his hands to himself when it came to my friends and my colleagues. Since the former are few and far between, and Natalie technically falls into both categories, she’s completely off-limits to him. It’s not like he doesn’t have enough women throwing themselves at him as it is.

  “I saw you talking to Andrew Garriso
n yesterday,” Natalie prompts, glancing over at me and fluttering her lashes. “I think he comes into the office only to flirt with you. Did he ask you out again?”

  “Actually, no.” Thank God for that.

  “Really? Is that why he was bummed?” Her eyes dart from me to the ice, then back. “Did you give him the boot?”

  “Of course not.” I quickly look away, pretending to be following a play on the ice.

  “Cassandra Eleanor Desrosiers! Do not lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying.” Technically, Chase gave him the boot. But I’m not going to tell her as much. It’s an epic sad tale that has no business being repeated.

  “Oh my God! You bumped uglies with him and kicked him out on his ass. You hussy. What were you thinking?”

  “We did not”—I peer around to ensure those kids aren’t listening—“have sex.”

  “Why is it that I don’t believe you?”

  I do my best not to look at her, but she fixes that right quick by gripping my chin and turning my face toward her. She has this motherly thing going on where I’m concerned. She believes it’s her duty being that she’s four years older than me. “What happened?”

  I sigh, then pull away and take a sip of my wine. “Nothing happened. And that’s the problem. There wasn’t any chemistry.” Plus, he tried to clean my face with his tongue. Ugghh.

  “Poor guy. But, his loss. If he wants in your skirt, he’s gonna have to work for it.”

  I roll my eyes. Natalie could go on and on like this if I fan the flames, which means I have to keep my mouth shut.

  “If I were you, I’d be shagging Sin.” She grins. “I hear he’s quite adept at cross-checking.”

  Great. If I don’t put a stop to this runaway conversation now, Natalie’s going to launch into hockey innuendos. She’s the only person I know who can make face-off and slap shot into something sexual.

  “Well then it’s a damn good thing you aren’t me.” Seriously. Chase is my best friend. I can’t even imagine sleeping with the guy.

  “Oh, whatever.” Natalie jumps to her feet and hollers at the players on the ice, then turns her attention back to me. “Tell me you’ve never wondered what he looks like naked. How big his hockey stick is.”

  “Not once,” I tell her with complete sincerity.

  “Liar.”

  I laugh. “I’m not lying.”

  Really, I’m not. Sure, Chase is an attractive man. His personality makes him larger than life, a force to be reckoned with. Although I think he’s one of the most incredible men I’ve ever met, no way would I ruin our friendship by wanting something that’s never going to happen.

  She huffs out a breath. “I know. Which is the sad part.” Natalie pouts. “Such a waste. So, no more Andrew? You didn’t even wanna give him a test drive, huh?”

  I snap my head over, my eyes wide. I should have expected that from Natalie.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cassie. You’re such a prude.”

  “I am not a prude.”

  “You are.”

  “Am not.”

  “Even Chase says so.”

  “Chase is a dick.” I swiftly look around, praying those kids didn’t hear that come out of my mouth.

  “Look! He’s back out there.”

  As soon as Chase’s blades hit the ice, he’s off like a rocket. I have to admit, I do love to watch him play. We’ve had this easygoing friendship ever since I informed him I would not sleep with him the same night we officially met. But honest to God, it’s a completely platonic relationship, no matter what Natalie says.

  “God, he’s hot.”

  “You can’t even see his face,” I counter.

  “He’s still hot.”

  As we watch, Chase does what Chase does best. He’s that player who enjoys annoying the crap out of the opposing team. He needles them in every way possible, so, sure, I can see why he gets roughed up so much. In turn, he dishes out his own payback and ends up sitting in the sin bin for umpteen minutes per game.

  “Oh, shit…” Natalie squeals when one of their forwards slams into Chase, ramming him headfirst into the boards.

  I’m instantly on my feet, watching as Chase shakes it off. It looks like he got his brain scrambled a little bit.

  “Is he okay?” Natalie asks, standing beside me, her fingers clutching my forearm.

  I don’t know, so I don’t say anything. Ten seconds later, Chase proves he’s okay.

  And yes, he has now added a couple more minutes to tonight’s time in the box.

  If he’s not careful, he’s going to be sitting this game out.

  Chapter 4

  Chase

  “Thanks, Suzy-Q.”

  Puck Drop’s main bartender bats her eyelashes and shoots me an award-winning smile. “You’re more than welcome, sweet cheeks.”

  Shaking my head as I give her a cocky grin, I grab my beer from the bar and wander toward the back corner where Cassie and Natalie have secured a table.

  “How is it that you can come in here week after week and women still flirt with you even though you come with Cass?” Natalie asks as soon as I approach.

  It’s true, I’m a regular at this small, hole-in-the-wall tavern located near the arena. As are a lot of my teammates. And clearly Nat saw the two women who smiled at me as I walked by.

  Before I can answer, Cassie says, “Because we’re friends.”

  As though that’s the most obvious answer.

  And I guess it sort of is. I come here a lot, both with Cassie and without. However, when I’m with Cassie, I tend to be with her. Not in the romantic sense, of course. She does, after all, keep me in the friend zone and I’m okay with that. To a degree, anyway.

  “Yes, but how do they know that?” Natalie is evidently not satisfied with that answer.

  “Because I’m not pawing him like a cat in heat,” Cassie replies at the same time I say, “Because if we were more than that, it would be in the news.”

  Natalie seems to contemplate this for a moment. “Makes sense. On both counts.” She sips her wine. “I guess it would be big news if some woman tamed the wild beast that is Sin.”

  I lift my bottle in a mock toast. “Amen.”

  I’m not looking to be tamed. However, if anyone was capable of doing it, it would be Cassie Desrosiers. Not that I’ll admit that to anyone other than myself.

  “I still don’t get how that doesn’t bother you,” Natalie adds, her focus on Cassie.

  “Why would it?”

  “Because…” Natalie shrugs. “Hell, I don’t know. Because he’s hot and rich and…hot.”

  Natalie. The deep thinker.

  “What about when they try to friend you?”

  It looks as though Natalie’s not going to give up.

  “What about it?” Cassie glances over at me, a small smile on her lips.

  “Do you give ’em all the dirt?”

  “There is no dirt.”

  Natalie barks a laugh. “Now I know you’re lying.”

  I can’t help but laugh at that too. Cassie knows all my deep, dark secrets, yet as far as I know, she’s never shared any of the details with anyone. Not even Natalie. Perhaps that’s why we are as close as we are. She’s the one person in the world—aside from my fathers—whom I know I can trust implicitly.

  “Whatever,” Natalie groans. “Moving on.” She whips out her phone and taps the screen to life. “All right, lady and hockey sex god,” Natalie prompts. “Which unsuspecting person are we going to descend upon tonight?”

  As I drink my beer, I glance around at the other patrons in the bar. This is the place all my teammates come to after the game. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s big enough to hold most of us. It’s more like a pool hall than a bar, but it suits my purpose. Cassie and I used to come all the time. Now that she’s been working even more than before, she doesn’t get by here much. So, on nights like this when she is here, I take advantage of that. Cass is cool as fuck. I love hanging out with her. She’s funny as hell and I s
imply enjoy being with her.

  “I’m gonna go with the older guy in the corner.” Cassie nods toward the front of the place. “And the half-dressed chick practically feeling him up.”

  “You’re on,” I tell her.

  Cassie takes a sip of her wine while she studies the pair in the corner. I wait patiently, sizing them up myself.

  “Okay.” Cassie shakes her shoulders like a boxer getting ready for a match. She cracks her knuckles and I laugh. She’s cute as hell when she gets all serious.

  “You’ve got one minute. Timer starts…” Natalie glances down at her phone. “Now.”

  “He’s a stockbroker by day,” Cassie begins, her voice smooth and calm. “Escort by night.” She adds a suggestive eyebrow lift.

  “What’s the name of his service?” I ask.

  “Uh…” Cassie grins. “Daddy Issues.”

  I laugh. Only Cassie would come up with some shit like that.

  “Keep going,” Natalie urges. “Forty-seven seconds left.”

  “She called the service tonight asking them to send a pretentious old guy.” Cassie’s words come out faster, some of them flowing together. She never does do well under pressure. “She insisted that he pretend to be nervous when she hits on him. She likes it that way. She’s a…a dominatrix, and she’s tired of her usual harem of…what are they called? The uh…uh…” She snaps her fingers repeatedly as though that will make the word come to her.

  “Submissives?” I offer.

  “Right. The submissives. She’s looking for someone new.”

  Interesting. “And why did he agree to take the job?”

  “The girl sent a picture. He thought she looked innocent, but deep down, he’s got the secret desire to be spanked. Hard.”

  I choke out a laugh.

  This crazy scenario coming out of Cassie’s mouth is fucking hysterical. She’s so buttoned up. Prim and proper. Even now, when she’s supposed to be relaxed. For example, she’s wearing a pair of charcoal-gray slacks and a white silk shirt with a collar. The little pearl buttons are something I’d expect to see on my grandma’s clothes.