Just Another Season
Page 1
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication/Acknowledgments
Street Team/Mailing List
Translation Guide
Chapter 1 - Missouri Loves Company
Chapter 2 - Birthday Beers
Chapter 3 - A New Home
Chapter 4 - Curvy Lady
Chapter 5 - The French Connection
Chapter 6 - Hockey Boys and Bets
Chapter 7 - Fire Zone
Chapter 8 - Above the Fold
Chapter 9 - Oh Bi the Way
Chapter 10 - Fraternizing
Chapter 11 - Down Goes Perrault
Chapter 12 - Basket Carries and Bean Bags
Chapter 13 - Roomies? Roomies.
Chapter 14 - Sweet Talkin' Sleep Talker
Chapter 15 - Wounds
Chapter 16 - Almost...
Chapter 17 - Ambidextrous
Chapter 18 - The Best Made Intentions
Chapter 19 - Perceptions
Chapter 20 - Relationships
Chapter 21 - Hat Tricks and High Sticks
Chapter 22 - Just a Kiss
Chapter 23 - Aftermath
Chapter 24 - What's Real?
Chapter 25 - Not Ready to Give Up
Chapter 26 - A New Normal
Chapter 27 - Christmas Memories
Chapter 28 - Comfort Zones
Chapter 29 - Blue Lights
Chapter 30 - About that Bet...
Chapter 31 - Runaway
Chapter 32 - Mi Casa Es Su Casa
Chapter 33 - Sweet Dreams
Chapter 34 - The News
Chapter 35 - Little Brother to the Rescue
Chapter 36 - Home Sweet Home?
Chapter 37 - A New Beginning?
Chapter 1 - A Dog's Life
Reviews
About the Author
JUST ANOTHER SEASON
Avery J. Longley
Copyright © 2017 Avery J. Longley
All rights reserved
Published by Pronoun
Cover art design by Meghan Wallace
Editing by Cat Parisi @ Cat's Eye Proofing & Promos
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers.
The Blue Springs Blizzard™ is a fictional professional hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and is covered under protection of trademark.
Just Another Season is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's twisted imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if the author uses one of these terms.
Dedication
This one goes out to Meghan, my tireless beta and one of the best friends a girl could ask for. Always there, always encouraging, always everything I needed.
Acknowledgments
Credit to Renee and Anna for always being willing to read, even when I’d sometimes come back moments later with “wait, I changed my mind…”
And a big shout-out to Amy and Amity for the beta editing.
Want more of The Blizzard Chronicles? Sign up and get a discount on Book 2 by joining my mailing list: http://averyjlongley.com/contact/
Would you like to get cool rewards and help me get reviews? Join my Street Team here - https://goo.gl/forms/h5djfx683NEJ6y552
Translation Guide
Crisse de Tabarnak - Jesus fucking Christ
Où es-tu? - Where are you?
Calice, pourquoi cette grosse vache est sur ma chaise? - Christ, why is this big cow/pig in my chair?
Enfant d'chienne - Son of a bitch
Va te faire enculer - Fuck you
Ferme ta gueule. - Shut the fuck up.
Mange de la marde. - Eat shit
Hostie, Ostie. - Shit.
Pas de parking. - No parking area.
Vous l'êtes sur l'épaisseur. Donnez-lui un peu de teps pour guérir. - You're laying it on thick. Give her some time to heal.
Que se passe-t-il ? - What is the word?
Venez ici. - Come here.
Comment allez-vous? - How are you?
Pourquoi pas? - Why not?
Chapter 1 - Missouri Loves Company
When Emma Connelly graduated at the top of her class at Columbia University, she was certain she was going to prove her parents wrong – she was going to make a career of journalism. She had received offers from news organizations from all across the country. Only one newspaper, The Kansas City Times, promised an opportunity to cover the political world. The opportunity would be a perfect fit for her dual degrees in Journalism and Political Science. But dreams are funny and sometimes fickle things.
Emma had only been in Jefferson City, Missouri for a few days before her editor sat her down and broke the news that she would not be covering the politicos as expected. It seemed the promised and coveted position was not available to be filled. The newspaper had a reporter out on maternity leave and jumped the gun assuming she wouldn’t return. And for Emma, it was worse than just her dream job vanishing in front of her eyes. She’d spent every penny she had for her move, in the cozy but comfortable apartment, and the first new furnishings she’d had since leaving home. With the rug getting pulled out, there was no way to recoup all the lost funds. Breaking the lease on her apartment and losing the security deposit was a huge blow, as was having to rent the moving van to take her belongings with her. Selling them through the classifieds had almost seemed a better prospect but the idea of spending her nights in a sleeping bag just didn’t appeal to her.
But then having to move to the western part of the state, finding new accommodations there, in an area where everything was that much more expensive? Emma wondered who was trying to break her now, and why. While she knew she was lucky to still have a job at the paper, the job they offered her seemed an utter waste of her knowledge and skills. Now her recorders and notepads were filled with notes on the sports scene.
Sports? What the hell did she care about sports? In the almost year she’d spent in the greater Kansas City area, Emma had found some things that made the job worthwhile: friends, ones who genuinely cared for her and enjoyed her company. A rather novel concept, she mused, for someone who could be the literal image of social ineptitude.
Still, through it all, Emma tried to make the best of the situation. Even if she did know little about Missouri and the twangy drawl of its natives, she was learning loads about all the local sports franchises – baseball, football, and even a handful of hockey games over in St. Louis. And while much of the action still seemed silly to Emma, she’d come to know and understand the terminology, to recognize talent in individuals, to even appreciate a well-done action on the field or ice.
Would she have that appreciation without the Malones, her Bostonian brethren, who’d taken her under their wing, showed her the area and often opened their home for long conversations? Maybe not – and it still made Emma laugh to think about how she’d met them, maybe the second or third baseball game she’d attended, and her blatant staring at the man who now was more like her big brother…
~*~
One Year Earlier
“He’s gorgeous.” She hadn't meant to say it out lou
d, but the sight of his dark hair, arms covered with tattoos, and a stance that seemed to make everyone around him stop and give him another look. He obviously loved his jeans, and clear to her and anyone else that was looking, that love was mutual.
She blushed when she noted she had a companion beneath the ice cream stand, more so when the other woman agreed with her assessment. “He so is. Look at those lashes. I know several women who would cut off their left arms for lashes like that.” And as Emma edged a bit forward to get a better look, she saw the woman spoke the truth. The stud not only was drop dead gorgeous, he had lashes she would kill for! On some men, that much lash would look silly, but on him, they made his brown eyes stand out even more.
Shaking her head just a bit, Emma grabbed a napkin and tucked it in her pocket, murmuring at the other woman, “If I keep staring, I’m going to start drooling. And that would be wicked embarrassing.”
“Oh yeah. Especially if his wife showed up and caught you drooling.”
Blinking, Emma turned to get a better look at the woman beside her, and found green eyes filled with laughter gazing back at her. As her own eyes widened, the other woman raised her hand, revealing her wedding ring, and Emma paled, whispering in a low tone, “Shit.” Her instinct was to bolt, to run back to the relative safety of the press box, but before she even made it a step, a well-manicured hand closed around her arm.
“Fortunately, his wife is used to people drooling. Though she is less used to people throwing around the word ‘wicked’ in normal conversation.” Though Emma still hadn’t turned around, she could hear the amusement in the other woman’s voice, and after another moment, she heard her call out loudly, “Devin, c’mere!” At this, she finally turned, trying to keep the blush from burning into her cheeks.
Within a moment, tall dark and handsome himself was standing in front of them, looking them both up and down with a look of delight on his face that matched that of his wife’s. “What’s doin’?”
Before she could even stop herself, the familiar words slipped off her tongue and Emma answered, “Not much.”
At this, the couple exchanged another look and then grinned, all while Emma lowered her eyes and blushed profusely. By this point the other woman had let go of her arm, and she knew she could have escaped. And yet she found herself unable, unwilling to leave. “She’s decked out too nicely to be a fan. So who is she?” The husband asked and, though Emma continued to blush, she was grateful she’d put suitable clothes on to work in, rather than the jeans she had been considering.
“I hadn’t gotten that far yet. She threw out a wicked and I called you over.”
“It’s okay sweetie. I don’t bite. ‘Cept the Missus. An that’s only when she’s askin’ me too.” Emma looked up quick at his teasing, and found a way to blush even more crimson than she’d thought possible. She promptly stared at the ground again until she felt the woman’s hand back on her arm once more.
“You’ve piqued our interest. Who are you? And why on earth would you leave Massachusetts for this god forsaken place?”
“Because they hired me.” Emma blurted out, immediately bringing her hands to her mouth. Why was she telling these people anything? Why wasn’t she running like hell? Why wasn’t she…
“The team?”
“No, the Times.” And she did it again. She was never this forthcoming with anyone, and yet these people had already managed to get her to slip into an Eastern Massachusetts accent and identify her employer!
This time it was a male hand settling on her arm, and Emma’s eyes darted over to it before looking back down at the ground again. “Let us buy you a beah.” He paused for a moment, then asked. “Ya legal, right?”
“I’ll be 22 in a bit over a month.” Emma confirmed and then stood in place, dumbstruck for a moment. “This is crazy. I don’t even know you two, and you’ve somehow convinced me to join you for drinks. This is ludicrous. This is...”
“Two Bostonians welcoming in another. Go get ya stuff. Trust me. Ya gonna stick out like a saw thumb here anyways, may as well make friends with people who can at least understand ya.”
Snorting in a rather unladylike manner, Emma nonetheless pulled away from their dual grasps and pulled her press credentials out of her pocket, murmuring at them. “And where should I meet you two?”
“Bang a uey outta the main pahkin’ lot. Take the highway into Independence. First exit, look for O’Callaghan’s Pub. We’ll be there, buy ya a beah.”
Emma could only shake her head as she scurried over to the elevator that would take her back up to the press area. Eight years she’d spent away from her damnable hometown, between boarding school and university, having the accent trained out of her so she’d sound like a ‘normal’ person, and in 5 minutes, she’d managed to slip right back into it and find perhaps the only two people in Missouri who would catch on and call her on it.
Her parents would so not be amused.
Chapter 2 - Birthday Beers
“Bet this isn’t the way you were figuring on spending your birthday, was it?”
In the year that Emma had known the Malones – Gabriella, who preferred Gabi, and her husband Devin – she’d found that over time, the accent that had seemed so strong, so obvious when they first met were now unnoticeable. Even in that first meeting, those first conversations, it had been Devin, the stereotypical Irish Catholic from ‘Southie’ that talked like he’d never left Boston. Gabi, who’d only gone to college in the city, and had grown up in the middle of the state, just picked up his words from time-to-time.
After raising her ‘birthday beer’ to her closest friends, Emma shook her head with a grin. No, going over the finer nuances of the game of hockey with these two fellow New Englanders was not exactly the life she’d expected when the Kansas City Times offered her a position straight out of school. Still, with enormous college loans to pay off, Emma had begged her editor to find her something – anything – to keep her employed at the paper. “Sports,” she said, “I’ll even write sports!”
Those were famous last words, as it would indeed be sports where she was shuffled off to. Football, baseball, all had been fodder for her new writing grist. Emma felt like she’d spent four years at school studying Italian, only to find herself in Germany.
But, that trip to “Germany” had netted her an unexpected friendship with the couple, who were only too pleased to have ‘someone from home’ with whom they could talk with. What began as sharing beers after a baseball game had turned into a weekly gathering at the Malone homestead, trying to help Emma learn more about baseball and football, and of late, hockey.
For it was hockey that was to be her permanent assignment, and in a few short weeks the action would begin. The brand new local team, in their shiny new arena, would be holding tryouts for the players who would soon make up the Blue Springs Blizzard.
Not that anyone outside of the Malones knew anything about hockey, best that Emma could tell. She had her doubts that the team would even last beyond their first year – how far could fascination of the unknown carry attendance anyways?
“Spearing.” Devin’s voice interrupted her thoughts, and she could only furrow her brow at him in response.
“Oh, let me get the stick! I can show her!” Gabi said in an all-too-gleeful tone, one that had Devin wrapping his arms around his stomach as though to shield it.
Giggling both at the couple and Devin’s unintended hint, Emma pointed a finger in the air in a triumphant manner and told them, “Major penalty. Almost always a game misconduct. Using the pokey end of the stick to whack another player in the midsection.”
“The pokey end?” Devin asked before he started laughing hysterically.
Emma made a face at him. “Yeah, what the fuck, what the hell is it called? Not the shaft. I remember that’s the top part.” Furrowing her brow once more, Emma shot a glance over at Gabi, but found her friend smiling but shaking her head, refusing to help further. Growling low under her breath, Emma started going through her
mental catalog of hockey equipment until finally it hit her. “Blade, dammit! The blade of the stick. Fucker.”
Smirking, Devin asked, “Another?” before Emma soon shook her head at him. “Good. I was hoping you could help me figure out why the fuck this team is going to be called the Blizzard.”
“Yes!” Emma exclaimed. “I was wondering the exact damn thing. I mean, were they going for an alliteration thing? Something that flows off the tongue? Cuz I’m sure these people wouldn’t know what the hell a real Blizzard is.”
“Outside the kind you can get at the local DQ, you mean.” Gabi injected drily while they nodded agreement. “I get the Blue Springs part. The rinks are in an area annexed by that town. Fine, name it after the town. But Blizzard? Seriously.”
Devin stood from the couch he’d been lounging on and started to move towards the kitchen. “Getting another beer. Either of you want one?”
Emma thought about it for a moment, cut a glance to the right and eyed her watch, and then shook her head. “I shouldn’t. In fact, I should maybe let you two do whatever it is you do after I leave.” She winked at Gabi before continuing. “I do appreciate the flash cards though. These suckers are going to get transcribed into the tablet and taped all over the apartment.”