Puck Drop_Utah Fury

by Brittney Mulliner

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are

  either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2018 Brittney Mulliner

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1722910167

  ISBN-10: 172291016X

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any

  form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without

  express written permission of the author.

  Contents

  Also By Brittney Mulliner

  Exclusive Content

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Exclusive Content

  Thank you!

  Coming in August:

  About the Author

  Find Out More

  Also By Brittney Mulliner

  Romance::

  Utah Fury Hockey

  Puck Drop (Reese and Chloe)

  Match Penalty (Erik and Madeline) – Coming August 2018

  Young Adult:

  Begin Again Series

  Begin Again

  Live Again

  Love Again (Coming Soon)

  Charmed Series

  Finding My Charming

  Finding My Truth (Coming Soon)

  Standalones

  The Invisibles

  Exclusive Content

  For exclusive content and the most up to date news, sign up for

  Brittney’s Reader’s club here

  Puck Drop:

  Rule 613 (a)

  Play shall start when one of the officials drops the puck between the sticks of two opposing players

  (per USA Hockey Rulebook, https://www.usahockeyrulebook.com/)

  Chapter One

  Chloe

  There was nothing like watching the guys practice together for the first time at the beginning of the season. They were a family, and we’d been apart all summer. Everything was back to being how it should be, though.

  The arena was almost ready for the new season. The Fury logo had been repainted and the sponsors had been updated. The fresh, gleaming ice reflected the fresh start. We had a lot to live up to. Two championships put a target on our backs, but we could handle it.

  I was huddled in my red and black Fury hoodie watching George, the team photographer, on the ice. He promised me he’d get all of the shots I needed for the blog, but I was dying to get out there with him and check.

  Too bad it would cause a complaint fest with the Pride, the group of players’ wives and girlfriends. They tended to make every little thing the ignition to a drama fire. Most of them understood my position with the team, but a few liked to throw tantrums over me having more access then them. The players didn’t need that today of all days. There was enough on their minds.

  Maybe I wouldn’t have to get all the way on the ice. I’d just talk to him from the side.

  Before anyone could ask me where I was going, I stood and hurried down the stairs to the glass.

  George had his back to me, so I pounded until I got his attention. He dropped his camera from his face just in time to roll his eyes but walked over to me.

  “What?” He had to shout to be heard over the sound of sticks slapping the ice.

  “Are you getting individual action shots?”

  “Yes, Chloe.” He said with disdain but couldn’t hide a smirk.

  “Even the new guys?” I’d need pictures of them for their introduction on the team blog.

  “Yes. Now let me do my job.” He waved me off and pulled his camera back to his face.

  “Thank you.” I shouted it and knew he heard me despite his lack of reaction.

  None of the women said anything to me when I took my seat, so I opened my laptop and got back to work. Writing about hockey and our team professionally was a dream come true. These guys were my life, and I’d spend all my time here anyway, so getting paid for it was amazing. Plus, it was one step closer to my ultimate goal of managing the team’s charity foundation.

  I’d just started a new page about the captain when someone tapped my shoulder. I forced a smile before turning around.

  “Erik looks great. Did he spend the whole offseason in the gym?” Sasha, Porter Vaugh’s wife, asked while eyeing him. She was beautiful with long red hair. A total vixen. When I first met her, I pegged her as a trophy wife. A former Miss America who met Porter at a charity event. She proved me wrong though. She was smarter than she let on. She was the brain behind Porter’s brand. With her help, he’d become one of the most famous players in the league.

  Normally, I didn’t appreciate people talking about my brother like he was a piece of meat, but I’d learned over the years that she was harmless. She checked out the guys as players. Sizing them up and searching for weaknesses that needed improvement.

  “You know him. I tried to convince him to go to Mexico with me, but he refused to take time off.”

  “That’s why he’s the best.” Emma, Olli Letang’s wife, leaned forward and smiled. She was the polar opposite of Sasha. Petite with honey blonde hair and as sweet and reserved as they come. She hated the limelight but supported Olli whenever the occasion called for it. I knew she would prefer to be at home with a book, but she came to every practice for her husband.

  She was right. Erik wasn’t the best left wing in the league from luck. He’d been dedicated to the sport since the first time he laced up his skates.

  “All of the guys look great. Hopefully we can find our groove with the new guys and win another championship.”

  Emma and Sasha beamed. There was nothing better than winning for our guys, and they earned it from the blood, sweat, and tears they put into last season. Plus, it was easier to live with them when they were winning.

  I turned around and ignored the chatter of the other girlfriends and wives and focused on the guys. They were running drills, finding their feet, and getting comfortable with each other again. We had gotten a few draft picks and some trades this season that were going to need a few practices to find their flow, but overall, the team was looking great.

  “Chloe, we got a code bimbo.” Emma nudged me. I looked up to her and she pointed at the portal to our left. A bleach blonde wearing barely-there shorts was making her way down the stairs in precariously high heels.

  I narrowed my eyes and watched her pause and wave with both arms to someone on the ice. I followed her gaze to one of the rookies. He wasn’t waving back, but he’d stopped skating and was looking back at her—with panic in his eyes.

  “Duty calls, ladies.” I shut my laptop and slid it into my bag before standing and making my way down the row.

  “Go get her.”

  “You show her, Chloe.”

  “Rookie mistake.”

  I ignored the comments of the Pride and focused on my target. The rookie, I think his name was Adam, knew better than to bring a groupie to practice. The guys
made the rules clear for the newbies. No wonder he looked like he’d been caught.

  When I was close, the bimbo looked at me and her smile disappeared. My resting face had that effect on people. Erik told me I didn’t come across as an overly nice or welcoming person when people first meet me, but I couldn’t help it.

  When I was a few feet from her, I stopped. “How can I help you?”

  She looked from me to the ice. I watched, waiting for her attention to return.

  “I’m here for Adam.” She pointed as if I didn’t know who she was talking about.

  “These are closed practices.”

  “But he said—”

  I held up my hand. “I’m sure he said a lot of things he didn’t mean.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Are you with him or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then why do you care if I’m here.”

  Oh, I loved when they challenged me. “You don’t belong here.”

  She pointed over my shoulder to the Pride. “What about them?”

  “They’re family.”

  “How do you know I’m not?” She rolled her shoulders back like she just bested me.

  I looked her over and shrugged. “A feeling.”

  She glared at me. I smiled.

  “I know everyone one of those guys. I know each of the women behind me. I also know that you don’t belong here.”

  She opened her bubblegum pink mouth to interrupt me, but I stopped her with a look.

  “We don’t allow the public to be here. That’s why it’s a closed practice.”

  Her eyes darted once again to the ice. Like Adam was going to run up the stairs and back her up.

  “Look, I’m sure you’re great, and if Adam is interested in you, I’m happy for you guys, but we don’t allow people to watch these practices. That’s why it’s called a closed practice. Fans are more than welcome to come to watch the open practice next week.”

  “I’m not a fan.”

  “Obviously,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Frankly, I don’t care who you are. You need to leave. Please don’t make me get security involved. It’ll be so embarrassing for you.”

  With one final, scathing glare, she turned and marched up the stairs. I looked to the security guard at the next entrance and nodded in her direction. He turned and disappeared, not needing further instruction.

  I sighed and crossed my arms. I didn’t like having to be the bad guy all the time, but the Furies weren’t back to back champions because they let distractions in. We ran a tight ship. Nothing to take the players attention off what mattered most: winning.

  The Pride began clapping when I walked back, and I took a mini bow before sitting down. Throwing out the trash was sometimes uncomfortable, but I’d do just about anything for the guys.

  “She looked like a fighter,” Sasha said with a laugh.

  I shook my head and pulled my laptop back out. “She was stubborn for sure, but we’ve had worse.”

  “Remember the one that threw herself at the glass trying to escape from security?”

  I laughed. “She still has the record.”

  Emma and Sasha continued recounting all the past crazies while I worked on my post.

  “There’s the new guy.” Sasha’s voice raised an octave. It was enough to make me look at the ice.

  Sure enough, a new player was skating around the perimeter, warming up. He passed us in a flash.

  “He’s fast.” The women all began talking at once.

  “He’s cute.”

  “He’s the new right wing.”

  “A late trade.”

  “The best.”

  I ignored the rest of the comments and focused on the man circling the rink.

  Emma leaned forward and put her hand on my shoulder. “Reese Murray.”

  Two words and I was gone.

  The Fury got Reese Murray?

  Why didn’t I know this? I was supposed to be kept up to date on all the players. It was my job for crying out loud. How had this slipped by without anyone telling me?

  Murray was one of the best players in the league. He was also a notorious jerk. Not what we needed this season.

  “Who did we lose for him?”

  She cringed. “Horran, Merck, and Benning.”

  Crap. Benning was our backup goaltender. If Olli got injured we’d be pulling from the farm team. “He’d better be worth it.”

  Sasha rested her chin on my shoulder, a literal devil on my shoulder. “He’s single.”

  I ignored her and focused back on my screen.

  “Handsome, successful, wealthy…what more could you want?”

  I shrugged, hoping she’d back off, but she was stubborn.

  “Just take a look, Chloe.”

  I fought the urge. I really did, but the next time he came around, I may have peeked.

  Fine. He was handsome.

  “You know me better than that, Sasha.”

  “Rules are meant to be broken.” She whispered, and I fought the urge to shove her away.

  “One, Erik would kill him. Like, bury him in an unmarked grave.”

  “He’d get over it.”

  I shook my head. He wouldn’t. “Two, I don’t date players.”

  “Such a shame.”

  “And three, I work for the team. It’s a conflict of interest.” I wasn’t sure about that one, but it seemed legitimate enough.

  “No such rule, Chloe.”

  She couldn’t know that. But maybe I was underestimating her. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “The first two reasons are more than enough to keep me away from him.”

  She tiled her head until we were cheek to cheek. “You deserve to be happy, too, you know? Erik doesn’t always have to come first.”

  I scowled. She was a tiny bit right, not that I’d admit It to her. I did deserve to be happy, and I was…mostly. But being with a player would bring nothing but heartbreak and drama for the team.

  Chapter Two

  Reese

  I ignored the section of women sitting in the stands. I could feel their words without hearing them. From the moment I stepped on the ice, I knew I had eyes on me—from my new team and the audience.

  Everything about this place seemed off. Wrong.

  The only upside to the trade was the extra zero at the end of my contract. I’d left my life, my home, my friends, and my team in Boston. With a day’s notice I had to pack a suitcase and board a plane for Salt Lake City. My agent could deal with moving the rest of my stuff. It was the least he could do after not getting me out of this.

  Money wasn’t the only thing that mattered to me. Loyalty meant more.

  I thought I was a franchise player. Boston had drafted me at eighteen and I’d been with them ever since. Seven years. We’d won a championship together.

  Then we started losing.

  But that wasn’t my fault. The team had problems off the ice.

  The Utah Fury saw our, I mean their, weakness and took the title for the past two years. They were favorites to win again this year, and I should have been happy to be included in that. I was. I was just pissed my team had given me up.

  There was a street named after me.

  I’d grown into a man in that city. Given everything to them.

  And they traded me.

  I pushed myself harder. My legs burned, begging me to reign it in. I refused.

  A whistle blew, breaking my concentration and bringing my attention to the head coach, Ryan Romney, who was standing in the center of the ice.

  The rest of the team was gathering around him, so I slowed to a stop toward the back of the group.

  “Welcome back, Furies. We have some new faces this season.” He paused and looked at each of us as if the rest of the guys hadn’t already figured it out on their own.

  “We’re running drills this morning.” He turned to the coach next to him. “Schultz, Hartman, and Murray, you’re working with Coach Rust.”


  With that he let the defense coach and Coach Rust take over. I waited for most of the guys to disperse before joining a huddle with my new captain.

  “Romney has you three as the first line with Brassard and Jones.” Hartman, the captain, didn’t seem surprised by the news, but Schultz was eyeing me.

  Coach Rust noticed, too. “Murray is the best in the league, Schultz. You got a problem with it deal with it on your own time. While you’re here, you do what I say.”

  Schultz didn’t give a reaction.

  “I want you guys to start the drills. Run through three player passing, and puck control. It’s time to act like the leaders you are.”

  He dismissed us, and I met Hartman and Schultz in the center. Hartman was glaring at us. “We’re going to prove Coach wrong. Aren’t we?”

  I nodded, and Schultz agreed.

  “Good. Let’s get to work.” He dropped the puck and skated toward the goal without waiting for us.

  I was in shape. I’d had harder practices, but the stress of being out of my element made the last two hours seem like two days. We ran through drills until my feet could do them automatically. Coach blew the whistle and told us to go stretch out.

  I was on the floor with a band, stretching my hamstrings when Hartman squatted next to me.

  “Come on. We have to get cleaned up for pictures.”

  I groaned. “On the first day?”