Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "What about the rest of the season? You can't just quit in the middle of it!"

  "And the exhibition game. Please tell me you aren't going to miss that." Taylor's voice was a little strangled, the words coming out in a croak. "After everything Chuckie did—"

  "Guys, stop! Holy crappola, you're supposed to be excited for me, not freaking out!" A playful smile filled Sammie's face as she rolled her eyes. "We're not doing a big wedding. We already had that. And no, I'm not wearing white. I don't think, I haven't given it much thought yet. And I'm not quitting. And I'm not missing the exhibition game, so relax. We're just going to have a small ceremony, that's all."

  Dani edged closer and tilted her head to the side. "Like, how small?"

  "Not so small that you guys won't be there."

  "Whew. Okay, good." Shannon reached out with her stick and tapped Sammie on the leg. "Because I was going to have to go off on you if we weren't invited."

  "Of course, you're invited! You guys are like my family." Sammie's voice wobbled on the last word, a second before she hurtled toward them, her arms open wide for a group hug. Shannon stiffened for a brief second then rolled her eyes and joined in the hug. No, it wasn't her thing, never had been, but Sammie's excitement was contagious and she couldn't let her friend down.

  Or maybe she was just starting to soften a bit.

  She shook off the horror of that last thought and stepped back, not really paying attention to the chorus of voices echoing around her. Taylor skated away first, followed by Dani. Shannon hesitated, ready to follow, but Sammie's stare stopped her.

  "What?"

  "You shouldn't pay attention to Taylor. She's just being a grump. I think she's worried about ticket sales. And the exhibition game. And Chuckie."

  "Yeah, no kidding. And I'm not. Um, what about Chuckie?"

  "I'm not sure but I think he's feeling added pressure because sales haven't picked up."

  "But they will. Right? I mean, it's still early. And it has to mean something that he got the whole exhibition game set up. That's, like, a huge deal. Bigger than huge. It's abso-fucking-lutely amazing.

  "Yeah, I guess." Sammie nodded then shifted her weight from one skate to the other and twirled the stick in her hand. "We don't have a shot at winning at all, do we?"

  "Of course we do. Why would you say that?"

  "Why? Um, because we're going to be playing against the Banners, that's why. Those guys are the real deal."

  "Newsflash, Reigs: so are we. They just get paid a hell of a lot more."

  "They also play more and practice more and have a lot more experience than we do."

  "Doesn't mean we can't kick their asses."

  Sammie laughed, the sound a little forced, a little hollow in the chilled air. "I guess. So…do you like him?"

  "Who?"

  "Don't play stupid. You know who."

  Shannon shrugged and started skating away. Not to get away from Sammie and her questions—that wouldn't work, not when Sammie was right beside her. She was skating just to move. She thought better when she was moving, when the ice was under her feet, when she was part of the ice. Who cared if it didn't make sense? It worked for her. It had always worked for her.

  Only the ice wasn't giving her answers, not to this question. She didn't know how to answer. Did she like Caleb? Yeah. But was there something more to it than that? How could there be when she still didn't know what he was up to? When she had no idea what it was he wanted?

  "Well? Do you?"

  "I don't know, Reigs. Maybe." Shannon pushed through the door, waiting for Sammie to follow before slamming it shut. "But I don't think I trust him."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I don't know what kind of game he's playing."

  "Why do you think he's playing a game?"

  "Oh please. Really? This is me we're talking about. My mouth opens and God only knows what's going to pop out. Guys like him don't want someone like me."

  "I think you're selling yourself short."

  Shannon grunted but didn't say anything as they entered the locker room and started removing their gear. Was she selling herself short? Maybe…but what else was she supposed to do when experience had taught her otherwise? And why was she suddenly so worried about it now, when it had never bothered her before?

  Because she liked Caleb, that was why.

  Which meant she was already in over her head.

  She tossed everything into her bag—because they weren't the only ones who used this locker room so they couldn't leave anything behind—then pulled a heavy sweatshirt over her head and slid her shoes on. She needed to get over this…this thing she had for Caleb before she did something really stupid. Like sleep with him.

  Or worse.

  "You should bring him to the wedding."

  "What?"

  Sammie tossed her gear bag over her shoulder with a shrug. "You heard me. Bring him to the wedding."

  "No. Not happening."

  "Why not?"

  "Because…because it's not, that's why. We're not dating. Not even close. And bringing him to your wedding would be like a date."

  "But you like him. And judging from that kiss, he must like you."

  "I told you, it was just for the stupid camera. It didn't mean anything."

  "Uh-huh. That's why you're blushing."

  "You're seeing things." Shannon turned away and hurried toward the door in a vain attempt to hide her flaming face. Sammie's laughter followed her, letting her know she hadn't succeeded in hiding anything.

  Chapter Nine

  Sweat ran down his face, stinging his eyes behind the shield. Caleb ignored the burn, kept his focus on the puck as the forward from Anaheim raced toward the net. The score was tied three-to-three with two minutes left in the game. If Anaheim scored, they'd end up winning. Caleb knew a lot could happen in two minutes. Hell, he'd played in games where the final score had been decided in a tenth of a second. But he couldn't shake the feeling that nothing like that would happen tonight.

  If Anaheim scored, they won, as simple as that. Caleb knew it in his gut.

  Which meant they couldn't score.

  He didn't have to look behind him to know that Connelly was struggling in the net. He'd been struggling all fucking night, sliding out of position, losing sight of the puck. It was a fucking miracle the Banners weren't down by five.

  Anaheim couldn't score. No fucking way could that happen.

  Caleb skated backward, his legs burning, his ankle throbbing. He ignored the pain, gritted his teeth against the mouthguard, and moved to the right. Watching, waiting…

  Now.

  He pushed forward, a burst of speed propelling him in front of the net a second before the puck went flying. He leaned forward, skates digging into the ice as he reached with his stick and shot the puck away. Shane Masters caught the pass, spun around and headed up the ice.

  Caleb sucked in a deep breath and pushed after him, catching up as thousands of fans jumped to their feet. Shouts and curses mingled with the boos as Anaheim's chance of scoring disappeared. It was their puck now, and Caleb would make damn sure it went in.

  He shouted at Shane and tapped the blade of his stick against the ice, waiting for the pass he knew was coming. A second later, the puck connected with his blade, nice and easy, like it knew it belonged there. With him.

  Caleb bit back a smile as he darted to the left and spun around Anaheim's D. Jaxon Miller was several feet away, already in position, wide open. All Caleb had to do was pass the puck to him—

  Except Anaheim's goalie was ready for that move, Caleb could see it in the way the man was already leaning to the side, his glove hand ready. Fuck that shit. Caleb hesitated, pulled back like he was going to pass, watched as the goalie followed-through on changing positions.

  There. Now.

  Caleb pulled the puck toward him, leaned low and drove toward the net. The goalie realized his mistake and struggled to get back into position but it was too late. Caleb shot the puck through the
air, his legs sliding out from under him as he watched the hunk of galvanized rubber sail toward to the net—

  And hit the back with a satisfying whoosh that Caleb could hear over the echoing jeers of the crowd.

  He bit back another smile as his teammates crowded around him, clapping him on the back. Jaxon leaned in close, something flashing in his eyes before he could blink it away.

  "Nice shot. You should have passed it, though."

  "No fucking way. He was ready for you."

  "I would have gotten it in."

  "I told you, no way." Caleb tapped him on the helmet and skated toward the bench, grabbing a towel to wipe his face as he took a seat. He looked up, watched the replay on the giant screen, and nodded when he saw the puck careen into the net in slow motion.

  Ninety seconds later, the Banners made their way back to the locker room, cheering and celebrating their win. Coach Donovan pulled him to the side, leaning in close to be heard over the noise. Was that irritation in the coach's eyes? No, he was just seeing things, that was all.

  "You're up for interviews, Johnson. Keep it simple. And humble. For fuck's sake, stay humble."

  Caleb frowned, wondering what the hell the other man meant by that. He shook it off with a shrug then made his way to the outer locker room where interviews were conducted. A few reporters were already talking to Connelly, which gave him enough time to get his helmet and jersey and pads off. He ran one hand through his wet hair and dropped to the bench, a wide smile on his face as several reporters crowded around him.

  "Johnson, how's it feel to be back in the game after being out for so long? Ankle giving you any issues? Are you at one hundred percent?"

  Caleb glanced down at his ankle then looked back at the reporter with a bright smile he knew would look great on the cameras. "Well, it feels like it to me. We've got the coaching staff, the trainers—you know they're not going to let me back in before I'm ready. And you saw that last goal. Yeah, I'd say I'm a hundred percent."

  "About that last goal—" Another reporter shoved a microphone at Caleb. "Why didn't you pass it to Miller? He was wide open, he would've made the shot."

  Caleb swallowed his frustration, keeping his smile in place. "Yeah, he was wide open. But I was watching Anaheim's goalie, he was waiting for it. I had to make a quick judgment call. I saw the opportunity and I went for it. Any one of the other guys would have done the same thing."

  "There were rumors earlier this season about some discontent in the locker room. That some of the guys weren't happy with what's been called your showboating. Any comment on that?"

  Caleb tossed his head back and laughed, the sound low and deep and completely void of the frustration growing in his chest. He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair again, and kept on smiling. "Just rumors, I'm afraid. You guys know how it goes. And there's no showboating. We're a team, each of us giving two hundred percent every time we're on the ice."

  He turned away from the reporter, using subtle body language to shut him down before he could ask any more questions. Another microphone appeared in front of him, the hand's owner speaking above the other voices to be heard.

  "Speaking of rumors—any truth to the one about you being involved with the goalie of the Chesapeake Blades? With Shannon Wiley?"

  Caleb had been wondering if someone was going to ask him about that, but he hadn't expected to hear the question here, in the locker room after a game. It didn't matter because he was prepared. He looked up at the reporter, knew that the cameras—both video and still—were focused on his crooked smile, on the dimple appearing in his cheek, on the teasing sparkle in his eyes. "Now you know a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

  It was the perfect answer, drawing a chuckle from the surrounding crowd. The words admitted nothing while his expression hinted at something completely different. Would Shannon see or hear it? It didn't matter if she did or not, because he knew someone would definitely be telling her, one way or the other. It was just enough to force a reaction out of her—and he was pretty damn confident it would be the exact reaction he wanted. Sure, she'd be pissed at first. But after…yeah, he was looking forward to after, because he had no doubt she was interested. She just needed a little nudge, that was all. And if that didn't nudge her, he didn't know what else would.

  "Speaking of the Blades, what are your thoughts about the exhibition game coming up in a few weeks?"

  "We're looking forward to it. It's a great way to raise some money for charity, and it'll give us a chance to play a nice, relaxed game."

  "So you're not worried about any real competition?"

  Caleb choked back his laughter, turning it into a small cough. He covered his mouth with the back of one hand and quickly smothered his smile. The back of his neck itched with a faint tingle of warning and he reminded himself he needed to be careful with how he answered. Insulting Shannon and her team certainly wouldn't win him any points.

  "I don't think any of us are looking at it as a competition. Like I said, we're doing this for charity. It'll be fun."

  "So you don't think the ladies have a chance of winning?"

  Christ, couldn't the guy move on to another question already? How many times did Caleb have to answer? His smile dimmed but he was careful to keep the edge from his voice when he spoke.

  "Again, we're not playing to win. It's just a fun way to raise money, that's all." Caleb turned his attention to another reporter, eager for a change in topic, but the first guy wasn't quite ready to concede.

  "The game might be a fundraiser but, if you had to bet, who would your money be on?"

  Caleb turned back, his smile just a little forced, an irritated edge clear in his voice. "Well, if I was forced to bet, you know my money would be on the Banners. That's the only thing that makes sense, right? We're the professionals, after all—"

  "So you're saying the Blades aren't a professional team?"

  "No. Of course not. It's just—"

  "Or is it because it's a women's team?"

  "That's not what I said. All I meant was that—"

  "So you don't think they have a chance at all, do you?"

  "If we were really playing? I'd have to say no, I don't. The Blades are too new, too inexperienced. You can't even compare them to us—"

  Coach Donovan appeared out of nowhere, placing his body between Caleb and the reporters. "Okay gentleman, that's all for now. We've got our postgame meeting then a flight to catch."

  One by one, the reporters grabbed their gear and made their way out of the locker room. Caleb breathed a sigh of relief then bent down to undo his skates, pausing when he noticed that Coach Donovan hadn't moved. He looked up and felt another tingle of warning dance along his skin at the stormy expression on the coach's face.

  "For fuck's sake, Johnson. What part of humble don't you understand? Do you have any idea what kind of shit storm you just caused?"

  "I didn't—"

  "Yeah, you did. Christ. Tomorrow's going to be a real treat."

  "But—"

  "I don't want to hear it. Just get your ass in the shower. And start thinking long and hard about how you can spin this when you get called on it tomorrow."

  Caleb stared at the coach's retreating back, wondering why the hell the man was so convinced there was going to be a shit storm. Could Caleb have said things differently? Yeah, of course. But nothing he said had been bad. Not even close.

  Which did nothing to explain why that tingle of warning was getting worse with each passing second.

  Chapter Ten

  Shannon hurried along the hall, the heels of her dress flats clicking against the polished tile as Chuckie practically dragged her behind him. She pulled on her arm, finally tugging it from his desperate hold. "Tell me again why this is so important, it couldn't wait?"

  "I told you: damage control."

  "But why do you need me here? I'm not the one who ran his mouth off during the interview!"

  Chuckie spun around to face her, his eyes flashing with impatience. "
No, but you're the one who had his tongue jammed down your throat for all the world to see."

  "You have got to be fucking kidding me. I told you, it was just a show for that stupid kiss cam." Did he notice her blush? How could he not, with the way he was studying her? And yeah, sure enough, he rolled his eyes in disbelief.

  "Why don't I believe that? And for the last time, watch your mouth. You absolutely cannot let anything slip like that during the press conference." His vivid blue eyes raked her from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes and back again. "Don't you have any lipstick or something you can put on?"

  Shannon's mouth dropped open, his words momentarily robbing her of speech. She tried to say something but the only thing that came out was a strangled gurgle. Or maybe it was a growl, she wasn't sure. It didn't matter because Chuckie wasn't paying attention.

  "Forget the lipstick, that would just make you look even more like sex-on-a-stick. The look you've got going now is more wholesome. Almost innocent." He almost choked on the last word then grabbed her wrist and started tugging her again. "Wholesome is good. That's the image we need—"

  "Whoa. Hold up. What the hell?" Shannon dug her heels against the floor and yanked her arm free. "Lipstick? Could you get any more sexist? Taylor needs to kick your ass. And sex-on-a-stick? Did you seriously just fucking say that? About me?"

  His small chuckle surprised her, but not nearly as much as the blush spreading along his jaw and cheeks. He glanced down at the floor then finally looked up and met her gaze with a sheepish expression. "Yeah, sorry. It's just, that was the first thing I thought of the very first time I saw you—until you opened your mouth and I realized you had the lethal bite of a striking cobra."

  "Seriously? Sex-on-a-stick?" Shannon didn't know whether to laugh—or haul off and slug him. Both. Neither. She settled on clearing her throat and giving him a stern look of warning. "Keep it up and I really will have Taylor beat you up for me."

  Was it her imagination, or was that a gleam of excitement that flashed in his eyes? Shannon shook her head, knowing there was no way in hell she was even going to ask. Not that Chuckie would even give her a chance because he wrapped his hand around her wrist once more and tugged her along the hallway.