Quick Trick (A Rough Riders Hockey Novel Book 1)

by Skye Jordan

  “Okay, here we go, boys,” Grant called once the kids were in position for their last drill of the night. “Remember, you’re passing while you’re moving, so make sure to whip that puck hard to get it in front of your teammate. Then pivot, catch the shot from the next man down the line, and shoot it up the ice.”

  He blew his whistle, and the kids glided into action. Grant floated on the edge of the rink and rolled his shoulder while his gaze focused on the kids’ feet and hands, on pivots and shots.

  Dwayne paced the sidelines. “Stay low in your turns, boys. Keep movin’, keep movin’, shoot.”

  “Talk it up, guys,” Grant told them. “You should always be talkin’ to each other out there. If you want something, call for it. Pick up the pace, boys. Giddyup, let’s go.”

  “Giddyup?” Dwayne said, shooting him an incredulous grin. “Is that the shit they teach you in the big leagues?”

  “Shut up.” Grant grinned. “Parker, move those feet. Whoa, Healy, what the hell was that? You control the puck, the puck doesn’t control you.”

  That brought some laughter. “Good,” he called out encouragement. “Nice.” And as the last few members of the team passed up the ice, Grant clapped to get the team’s attention. “Other way, same drill. Speed, accuracy, focus. Go.”

  His phone chimed. Without looking away from the boys, he answered, but instead of saying hello, he lowered the mouthpiece and yelled, “Jordy, you here to socialize or practice? Cut the bullshit. If I have to tell you again, the whole team’s gonna be doing sprints.”

  A collective groan rolled through the group, and Jordy received a number of shoulder shoves, which shut him right up.

  Smiling, Grant lifted the phone to his mouth. “Grant.”

  “Hey.” A male voice that he didn’t immediately recognize sounded over the line. “Sounds like you’re as much of a hard-ass with teenagers as you are with grown men.”

  By the time he finished speaking, Grant recognized his younger brother’s voice. “Do you mean on the ice or with you? ’Cause I haven’t seen you enough to be a hard-ass yet.”

  “I know,” Patrick said, “that’s why I’m here to take you for a beer when you’re done.”

  Grant heard stereo and turned to find his Patrick strolling toward the rink, one hand in his pocket, huddled in a parka. Patrick grinned and lowered his phone. Grant had mixed feelings about his brother’s appearance. On the one hand, he was the reason their parents had even entertained the idea of seeing one of Grant’s games. On the other, Grant really wanted to go straight back to the store, pack in some quality Faith time—preferably buried deep inside her, driving her to scream his name the way she had last night, then teaching her how to edit video and set up her YouTube account. And, yeah, then work on more screaming.

  Damn, his cock was already half-hard just thinking about it.

  “Patrick?” Dwayne turned and held his hand out to Grant’s brother, but he didn’t look all that happy to see him. Still, Patrick stepped up and shook Dwayne’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Yeah.” He released Dwayne’s hand and scraped it through his hair, looking at the ground. “Well, I’m sure no one missed me.” He looked up and met Dwayne’s eyes. “But I’m clean and sober, eight months now.”

  Shock hit Grant in the stomach. He’d known Patrick had a problem, but not that it had been acknowledged or that he’d sought help or that he’d been successful at battling the addiction.

  “Congratulations, kid.”

  Patrick grinned. “Thanks, thanks.”

  “Grant, you go on,” Dwayne said. “I’ve got this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Grant nodded. “Thanks.”

  He sat down, threw on his blade guards and started unlacing his skates.

  “Thank you,” Dwayne said. “And tell Faith thank you again too. I’ve been getting all sorts of calls and texts about the lights. You made a lot of people happy tonight.”

  Dwayne skated toward the kids calling directions while Grant pushed into tennis shoes.

  “What lights?” Patrick asked.

  “The ones on his house. The system’s been down since MaryAnn passed, and we helped him get it up and running again.”

  He set his skates in his duffel, tossed it over his shoulder, and started toward the parking lot with Patrick, but his mind was on how happy Faith would be to hear how the lights were affecting the community.

  His brother wrapped a playful arm around Grant’s neck and wrestled him, singing, “Someone’s got a crush…”

  Grant laughed and pushed Patrick off. “You’re still not big enough to do that.”

  Patrick straightened, making a face at how he topped Grant’s height by two inches.

  “Old enough,” Grant corrected. “You’ll always be my baby brother.”

  “Who’s Faith?”

  “Let’s talk about you. Why did you invite me for a beer if you’re sober?”

  “Because it’s the socially polite thing to do. And because it’s good practice. And because I always feel a little stronger when I walk out of a bar still able to count backward from one hundred. Who’s Faith?”

  Grant ignored his last Faith inquiry and focused on the glimmer of the good-natured kid his brother had once been. That made Grant smile.

  They agreed to take separate cars and meet at Yuletide Spirits. Grant planned on walking from there to Faith’s and staying with her tonight, and he didn’t want anything interfering with that plan.

  As he pulled out of the parking lot, he dialed Faith.

  “Hey, handsome,” she answered. “Hope you didn’t send any of the kids home with marks.”

  “Not a one.”

  “Good boy.”

  And here came their first test. “So…my brother found me at the rink. We’re going to grab a beer.”

  “Really?” She sounded surprised, but in a good way. Grant held his hopes back, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Which one?”

  “Patrick.”

  “That’s great.”

  He was still waiting. “Why is that great? You don’t like my brothers.”

  “I don’t like how your brothers act. I don’t know your brothers as people, so I couldn’t tell you whether I like them or not. And it’s great because I have no doubt you’ll be a positive influence for him. Have fun.”

  He frowned, a little unsure what to do without conflict to deal with. “What are you doing?”

  “Well,” she said, sounding far too chipper for a woman who’d been up all night, worked all day, and been dealt two ginormous orgasms a couple of hours ago. “I finished making notes on the instructions I want to record over the video, and I just started putting supplies together for the festival. My back room looks like Parties Unlimited USA.”

  He smiled. “I’ll help when I get there.”

  “I’ve got it. You don’t get to see your family much, and you don’t have much time left in town. Enjoy yourself.” A familiar bell rang in the background. “I’ve got to run to the front. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Grant stopped at a red light behind his brother’s Mercedes SUV and frowned at his phone where it rested on his thigh. “Have fun?”

  Where was the self-invitation to join them? The pissy attitude over him going out without her? The pouting?

  “Enjoy myself?”

  The light turned green, and he continued toward town. Halfway there, he caught himself trying to twist her words into something negative. And laughed at himself, relieved he was making it up. “God, I’m an idiot.”

  But that relief didn’t last long, because then he was thinking about her “You don’t have much time left in town.”

  He really didn’t. The team was off for the holidays now, but they’d head back to practice in less than a week. Then they’d dive into a grueling schedule of games, practices, and special events, packed into nearly every day straight through the middle of June.

&nb
sp; And Grant would be with them.

  He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait to be with his guys. Back on a schedule. Battling for every play on the ice.

  But it also meant he had to leave Faith. His first thought was to ask her if she’d continue seeing him, but Grant didn’t have to look at a schedule to know there would only be one short break over the next six months when he’d be able to fly here and see her. Nor did he have to fathom a guess of how often she’d be free to come see him. Not with a struggling store, limited funds, and that damn iron pride of hers. He had no doubt they’d end up in a fight if he even brought up the subject of paying for her travel. Beyond that, she hadn’t shown any serious interest in hockey. She listened to him talk about his career and his buddies, but when he started talking strategy, her eyes glazed over.

  Not that it mattered… Did it?

  “Why in the hell am I even thinking these things?” he asked the empty car.

  After a moment, his mind answered: because he knew that by June, when he could come spend the summer with her, she’d be gone. If not physically gone because she’d sold the store, she’d be taken by some young stud who knew a good thing when he saw it.

  Grant’s mood plummeted. The discomfort only added to his stress. He shouldn’t be this affected by a woman he’d known for a week and a half. That was insane.

  He pulled into a spot in front of Faith’s store, while his brother pulled in a block away at the bar. Grant cut the engine and the lights and stared inside at the light glowing in the back. He wanted to bail on Patrick and go help Faith. He wanted to be with Faith.

  He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there until Patrick strolled up to his door.

  “Dude.” His voice sounded muffled through the glass. “Are you drunk already? The bar is over there. This is—” A look came over Patrick’s face. He darted a glance at the hardware store, then looked back at Grant. “Ooooh, wait.” He pointed to the store. “Is this the Faith you’re crushing on?”

  “Shut up.” Grant climbed from the car, annoyed. “Just tell the whole town.”

  Patrick chuckled and turned in a slow circle. “Bro, look around you.”

  True, there wasn’t a damn soul on the frozen street. And, yes, that just irritated Grant more.

  “Huh,” Patrick said, an amused look of confusion crossing his face. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

  Grant wondered what Patrick saw that he didn’t. “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “You’ve always gone for the hoity-toity type.”

  “How do you know who I date?”

  Now Patrick lifted his brows. “Hel-lo. Have you not heard of this newfangled thing called the Internet? Have you also not noticed that you are one of the top fifty best-paid NHL players in the nation? I keep telling everyone I’m not as dumb as I look. Nobody listens. Anyway, I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but you may want to know for future reference that every time you date someone, the press wants to sneak into your bedroom and take pictures. So, yeah, I know you go for the high-maintenance chicks. Faith’s real pretty. She’s just kinda…I don’t know, simple, in comparison. But then we are in Holly, North Carolina, not Washington, DC. What’s a guy gonna do?”

  While Grant was surprised and, yeah, even pleased, that his brother had developed enough interest in Grant’s career to actually look him up, there was also enough truth to Patrick’s statement to turn Grant downright surly. But he couldn’t blame anyone for that except himself.

  Still, he shoved Patrick’s shoulder in the direction of the bar. “Do you want me to buy you a tonic and lime or not?”

  “Ho, look at you, big spender. But I actually prefer root beer nowadays. Think you could manage a root beer?”

  Grant laughed.

  “And maybe some pretzels?” Patrick asked.

  “Okay, now you’re pushing it.”

  Patrick thought that was hilarious and laughed his way toward Yuletide Spirits.

  Grant followed, grinning reluctantly. His brother had come back from the brink of disaster and not just survived but thrived. It seemed like he might even have become fun again.

  “And, for the record,” Patrick said as they came up to the bar’s front door, “I’m all for you looking at changing the type of women you see.” He paused at the steps and turned to Grant. “My girlfriend and I have been together six months. She’s nothing like the women I usually drifted toward, but she’s at least half the reason I was successful at rehab, about twenty percent of the reason I’m still sober, and accounts for ninety-five percent of my happiness. She’s the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to me.”

  Grant grinned. “Hey, man. That’s great.”

  Patrick nodded and continued up the stairs to the doors. “Faith’s always been a real nice girl. Even when I wasn’t so nice to her, she believed I could be and do better. She’s worth taking a long, hard look at, bro.”

  His brother pushed into the bar, but Grant stood there a moment, absorbing the wisdom his little brother had just bestowed upon him. Grant already knew Faith was beautiful—inside and out. But his brother’s experience of internal transformation with the love of the right woman, spoke to something Grant had been trying to pin down for the last couple of days.

  When Grant got a minute to himself, he was going to have to start thinking about his own life and how he might manage to pull his head out of his ass.

  9

  Faith piled one more extension cord on the mountain of supplies needed for the ice-sculpting competition and checked that box off her list. “Done.”

  She leaned against the wall, hung her head, and closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. And not just no-sleep tired, but her-body-hurt-in-a-million-new-ways tired. Ways that made her smile, despite the discomfort.

  The thought of Grant hanging with his brother warmed her heart, and she couldn’t wait to hear about their talk after years of estrangement. She didn’t like Patrick as a drunk or a womanizer or a compulsive liar-borderline-narcissist. But she’d heard he’d been sober for a while and hoped his time with Grant gave them both a little healing from the wounds their family carried.

  At the same time, it made her sad. She missed her dad. Last night, falling asleep in Grant’s arms, was the first night she hadn’t cried herself to sleep in longer than she could remember. Faith knew it wouldn’t be the end to the loneliness or the tears, but she was deeply grateful for the reprieve and the glimmer of hope he’d given her.

  And, yeah, she realized there would be another gaping hole in her life when he went back to DC after Christmas. But she’d deal with it when it happened. She certainly wasn’t going to rush it one second faster than she had to. Faith was going to enjoy that boy right down to the wire, and when it was time to let him go, she’d let him go. And she’d be happy for him, because he’d be going back where he belonged, with people who loved and respected him. Who understood and supported him.

  She couldn’t want more than that.

  Except…

  Her mind whirled with possibilities that were really just pure fantasy. Faith laughed at herself and shook the impossible from her mind so she didn’t get unnecessarily hurt when this little fling ended.

  She rubbed at tired eyes and refocused on the list. The door to her store chimed, and Faith pulled her phone from her back pocket to check the time. But even before she could begin to wonder who would stop in at this late hour, the light clip-clip-clip of high heels sounded in the store.

  Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and told her dad, “Leaving me to deal with her was cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “Faith?” Natalie called. “Where are you?”

  “Back here.” She set the list aside and straightened the supplies headed to the festival tomorrow.

  Natalie came around the corner, and her pretty blue eyes immediately skated over the mound of supplies. “Oh, is that all for our artists?”

  Faith smiled. The Art League liked to think everyon
e involved with their organization was an “artist,” but Faith knew for a fact there were a lot of rednecks who brought their chainsaws and twelve-packs out to this event in the hope of winning a prize or two.

  “It is.”

  “And you’re on schedule for setup tomorrow?”

  “I am.”

  “You do know of the large number of last-minute registrants?”

  “I do. It’s fantastic.”

  “Isn’t it?” Natalie exhaled and gave Faith that plastic smile. “It’s the biggest turnout for the contest in the history of the festival. Grant’s really pulling in money for the community. I just want to make sure—”

  “Grant?” Faith’s gut tingled, but not in a good way.

  “Yes, Grant. I know you’ve been…spending time with him. I was coming home from my sister’s bridal shower late last night. And I mean late—we Duboix girls really know how to party—and I noticed his car here.”

  Discomfort tightened inside her. Her father had been gone only six months. She didn’t want to appear to be gleefully making use of his absence by sleeping with random men. It might be irrational, but she knew how people talked, and he’d given so much to this town. They both had. She didn’t want his memory tarnished in any way.

  So, even though her relationship with Grant was none of Natalie’s business, she said, “I had an emergency water leak in the basement. Grant was nice enough to help me fix my pipes.”

  Natalie gave a low, edgy laugh. “I’m sure he did. Grant’s fixed the pipes of half the women on Manhattan’s list of most eligible bachelorettes. But just so we’re clear, he’s with me for the festival. We’re MCing ice-carving together, we’re judging together, we’re going to the awards banquet together. We’ve also got plans to spend the evening together afterward.”

  Anger flared, pushing a flash of heat through Faith’s neck and face. She bypassed the whole Grant issue for the moment and went straight for the knife in her heart. “Hold on. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m judging.”