Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "My, um, my brother's here."

  "Your brother?"

  "Yeah. You know, the one who's letting me live in the studio above his garage?"

  "He's there now."

  "Yeah."

  "Did he, uh, did he hear?"

  "Um, yeah. Pretty much."

  Fuck. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—"

  "Yeah, neither did I."

  "Did he, um, did he say anything?"

  "Not really but I'm pretty sure he wants to meet you now."

  Great, just fucking great. What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn't been, not with his brain, at any rate. "I didn't mean—"

  "I know you didn't. I should have warned you."

  How could she have warned him? It wasn't like she knew what he was thinking, what he was doing...what he was hoping she would do. Hell, even he hadn't known, hadn't planned on it.

  He ran a hand over his face, released a deep sigh. "So, how about Friday night? When you get off work?"

  "Caleb, I can't." He heard the regret in her voice, but he also heard the determination and knew nothing he said would change her mind.

  "Then how about Saturday?"

  "We're already seeing each other Saturday. You know—when we kick your ass on the ice."

  Caleb didn't even laugh. How could he, after tonight's slaughter? "I was thinking more along the lines of after the game."

  "After the game, I'm all yours."

  "I'm going to hold you to that."

  "After the game, you can hold whatever you want."

  "Is that a promise?"

  "That's a promise."

  Caleb smiled, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. He apologized again, finally said goodbye, and disconnected the call.

  Four days. He could last four days.

  Couldn't he?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Breathe.

  Focus.

  Breathe.

  Shannon rolled her head from side-to-side, shrugged the tension from her shoulders. This was just a game, like every other game she had ever played in since she was six years old. Nothing in her routine should change. It couldn't change, not if she wanted to be ready.

  She could do this.

  They could do this.

  She opened her eyes, looked down at the small rubber balls cupped in her hand. One more deep breath then she tossed the first one against the wall. The second. The third. Watching as they bounced off the painted concrete, arcing through the air toward her.

  One. Two. Three.

  She batted each one as it moved closer, fast. Faster. Over and over, her gaze focused on the movement of each rubber ball, anticipating, breathing, focusing. Finding her zone, settling into it.

  Faster still, until each swipe of her hand came automatically, all thought gone, trusting only her instinct.

  Thwap. Thwap. Thwap.

  Thwapthwapthwap.

  Deep breaths, her heart rate slowing as she changed the rhythm of each swipe. High. Low. Stepping away from the wall, then moving closer. Always watching. Always anticipating.

  Slower now, nice and steady. Slower still until she caught each ball with her hand. One. Two. Three.

  She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, let her head hang down. Relaxed. Free of the tension that had been gripping her since this morning.

  Free of all thought except for the game that was due to start in fifteen minutes.

  Just another game. Just like every other game she had ever played in.

  She pressed a hand against her stomach, pushing away the tangle of nerves that wanted to resurface, just like she pushed away the negative thoughts threatening to surface.

  She tossed the balls into her small duffel then sat cross-legged on the floor, hands resting, palm up, on her knees. A few more minutes to meditate, to focus, to go deeper into the zone. Just a few more minutes...

  Footsteps echoed along the tile floor, hesitated then moved closer. Shannon blew out a heavy breath then opened her eyes, raised her brows in Taylor's direction.

  "Yeah?"

  "It's about time."

  A burst of nerves fluttered in her stomach. Dammit. She didn't need the nerves, not now. None of them did.

  She swore again then pushed to her feet. "How crowded is it?"

  That question had been on her mind all morning. Hell, it had been on her mind all week. She wasn't the only one wondering about it, either. Yes, this exhibition game was a great opportunity for the Blades, for the entire league—but only if people actually showed up.

  Taylor shrugged. "I haven't looked."

  "What? Why not?"

  "I'm afraid to." Taylor made the admission with a small grin, like she was trying to play it off. But Shannon knew her too well, could feel the tension and worry radiating from her. Taylor was nervous? She wasn't sure what to make of that, wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

  "Well, fuck them then. They don't know what they're missing."

  Taylor laughed then clapped her on the shoulder. "You're right."

  "Damn straight, I'm right."

  "You ready?"

  Shannon opened her mouth, ready to say as ready as I'll ever be. But she couldn't say that—she never said that. It wasn't her, wasn't who she was. So she forced a confident smile she didn't quite feel and nodded. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

  Then it was time to head to the locker room, time to finish gearing up. Coach Reynolds came in, gave them her usual rah-rah speech, pumping them up. And they were pumped up, every single one of them, despite the tension and nervousness that hovered around them.

  They moved out to the hall and into the tunnel, listening to the heavy beat of rock music as the announcer introduced the Banners. Loud cheers greeted each name, echoing off the ice.

  Shannon exchanged a surprised glance with Taylor at the noise level. How many people were out there?

  Definitely more than the Blades usually played in front of.

  Sammie groaned and grabbed Shannon's shoulder, dropping her head against the pads. "OhmyGod. Holy crappola. I think I need to pee." It was what Sammie said before every game, part of a ritual that had become ingrained in them since their very first game.

  Shannon tapped her on the leg with the flat of her stick and grinned, just like she always did. The familiar words fell from her mouth, filled with a hint of laughter—just like always.

  "It's a little late for that."

  And it was, because the announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "Ladies and gentleman, the...Chesapeake...Blades!"

  Holy shit, the applause was nearly as loud for them as it had been for the Banners. Shannon closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her stomach to settle as each player was introduced.

  Taylor. Dani. Maddison.

  Sammie. Rachel.

  One by one, until Shannon was next in line.

  "And in net, number thirty-seven, Shannon Wiley!"

  Shannon pushed through, hit the ice with a smooth stride, the stick raised over her head in greeting as she moved toward the net. And holy shit, the place was packed. Not completely filled, but still more crowded than she had anticipated.

  More crowded than she had hoped.

  She moved into position, crouching low, bouncing on her skates as she slid her stick across the ice in a wide arc, tapping each post twice. Her gaze moved over to the players' benches then slid toward center ice. Dani was taking the face off, lined up against Hunter Billings from the Banners. Even from here, she could see the grin on the man's face—on the faces of all the Banners. This was nothing to them but a light-hearted game. All of them probably thought it would be child's play, that they'd win without even trying.

  Was Caleb thinking the same thing?

  She sought him out with her gaze, noticed the way he was positioned on the ice. Standing straight up, his weight on his right leg. Casual. Relaxed.

  Yes, even Caleb thought this was going to be an easy win, no matter how many times she had told him otherwise.

  Fine, let him thin
k that. Let all of them think that. They were about to find out otherwise.

  Would the Blades win? Maybe. Maybe not. But they sure as hell were going to try.

  The puck finally dropped. Hunter reached out with his stick, the move almost nonchalant, like it was a given that the Banners would win the face off. But the puck was already sliding across the ice, hitting Taylor's tape dead-center before she spun around and moved toward the Banners' net.

  Shannon almost laughed at the expressions on the men's faces. Had they really thought the Blades were going to make this easy for them?

  Aw, hell no.

  Shannon relaxed, just a for a second, as she watched the play unfold as they had planned. Taylor slowed down, turned and made a big show of looking around, like she was searching for someone to pass the puck to. Jordyn slid in closer, stumbled, nearly fell. The Banner who had been following her reached out like he was going to catch her, like he was afraid she might actually fall.

  Instead, Jordyn casually slid the blade of her stick in front of his left skate, sending him flying to his knees—just as Taylor passed the puck on her direction.

  Shannon glanced over at the Banners' bench, saw the surprise on half a dozen faces as Jordyn skated behind the net for a beautiful wrap-around. Connelly wasn't even looking, his gaze directed on the spot where Jordyn had been a few seconds before.

  A second later, the red light flashed above the net and the horn blared. Twenty-eight seconds in, and the Blades had scored their first goal. Shannon almost wished they had waited, that they'd taken more time to lull the guys into a false sense of security. Then again, maybe they'd think it was just a fluke and continue to underestimate them.

  Shannon's gaze moved across the ice, finally resting on Caleb. He turned toward her, his green eyes flashing with an intensity she could feel even from this distance. Was he surprised? Maybe. Did he think it was a fluke?

  Probably.

  Did she care?

  Abso-fucking-lutely not.

  Caleb reached out and snagged Jaxon Miller's sleeve, leaned in to say something. Both men looked over at her, then Caleb finally raised his stick, waist-level, and pointed it at her with a crooked smile.

  Was that supposed to worry her? Not even close. And if that's what he thought, then shame on him.

  Shannon tipped her helmet back, her gaze never leaving his. Then she nodded and pointed her stick right back at him.

  Game on.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Fuck!

  They were losing. How the fuck was that even possible?

  Caleb clenched his jaw and stared up at the scoreboard. Giant red numbers stared back at him, taunting him. Two-to-one. How? How the fuck had that even happened?

  Yeah, that first goal was a fluke, coming at twenty-eight seconds into the game. They hadn't been ready for it. Hell, they hadn't been looking for it. This was an exhibition game, nothing more than a casual, relaxing, friendly game.

  Yeah. Sure. It may have started that way for the Banners...for the first twenty-eight seconds. Something told him it had never been that way for the Blades, though. And Christ, he still couldn't believe it. They were actually giving them a run for their money—and winning. Skating fast, shooting hard. Playing hard.

  Like they had every intention of winning.

  Caleb glanced at the scoreboard again, his eye on the clock. Fuck. If they didn't do something soon, the Blades would win. And how fucking embarrassing would that be? To be bested by a women's hockey team. A brand-new women's hockey team.

  Fuck.

  He wasn't the only one sitting there in disbelief, the only one feeling the pressure. They all were: Shane, Logan, Hunter. Even poor Ilya Semenov, who had made the mistake of reaching for Jordyn Knott to keep her from falling on the ice, only to faceplant himself when she tripped him during that first play.

  This wasn't supposed to be a physical game. No hitting, no boarding, no cross-checking or tripping. Somebody must have forgotten to give that memo to the Blades because damn if they weren't doing exactly that. Not blatant, not enough to draw any penalties. Either that, or the refs were simply turning a blind eye to it. And their fucking hands were tied. No way in hell could the Banners pull half the shit the ladies were pulling. The arena had erupted in a chorus of boos the one time Christian Harper had bumped into Taylor. It really had been an accident—one look at the mortification on Christian's face was enough for everyone to see that. But Taylor had played it for all it was worth and dropped to the ice. And damn if the whistle hadn't blown. Christian had been sent to the penalty box for two minutes on a tripping call, when it should have been Taylor sitting in the bin for embellishment.

  That had been enough to give the Blades their second goal of the afternoon on the power play. Because fucking Connelly still wasn't paying attention, still didn't have his head in the fucking game.

  Coach had finally pulled him, put Dan Lory in. And how the hell Coach wasn't having a fucking fit right now was beyond Caleb. He glanced over, wondering if maybe he was just missing the signs. No, he wasn't. Donavan was leaning against the glass partition separating the players' benches, looking relaxed and at ease, like he didn't have a care in the world. The Blades' coach leaned over, said something with a smile on her face, and damn if Donovan didn't start laughing.

  What the fuck?

  Caleb turned back to the ice just as Jacob Riley sent a hard shot toward the Blades' net. He leaned forward, holding his breath, waiting for the puck to go in. It had to go on, no way could it miss.

  And fuck. Shannon stopped it with a quick twist to the left, catching the puck with her glove hand and pulling it into her chest. The whistle blew, signaling a stop in play.

  "Holy shit. I wish to fuck she played for us." Logan muttered the words under his breath, low enough so Connelly wouldn't be able to hear him from his spot at the far end of the bench. Caleb grunted, unwilling to agree. If the Blades had been playing any other team, he would have said it himself. But they weren't playing any other team—they were playing the Banners. His team.

  And fuck if he could get over the fact they were losing long enough to appreciate the saves Shannon had been making all afternoon.

  Time for the face off, then more scrambling for the puck. Donovan leaned forward, motioning for a line change with a few quick hand signals. Caleb jumped the boards, his skates hitting the ice as he took Jacob's spot. Taylor whipped past him, chasing the puck as it cleared center ice. He didn't hesitate, just tore off after her, knowing he couldn't wait for an icing call.

  Damn if he could let her score—none of them could. Ilya and Parker Gibson obviously realized the same thing because they were close behind her as well, moving in to defend the net.

  And yes, finally! Ilya slid behind her, reaching with his stick and knocking the puck free. It slid straight toward Jaxon Miller, who took off with it. Taylor swore, her voice easily heard from where Caleb was, a few feet away. Let her get frustrated. It was time to show them who was the better team.

  Calen spun around, doing a one-eighty as he followed Jaxon down the ice. There was no open shot, they'd have to set this one up. Cycle it. Wait for the right second then shoot toward Shannon's weak side.

  But she didn't have a weak side, that was the fucking problem. She anticipated every shot, never moving until it was time. She had to be fucking tired by now, blocking as many shots as she had so far, just in the third period. It would have been funny, the way the Banners kept ripping them toward the net, almost like they were desperate to score.

  Yeah, it would have been real fucking funny...if it wasn't the truth.

  Caleb slid closer to the net, spraying snow on Shannon's legs as he turned, waiting for the pass. He heard her mutter something, ignored her as he watched Jaxon and Shane pass the puck back and forth. Closer, closer still.

  He slid back, just a few inches, crowding Shannon. She said something again, her voice a little louder, the words still indistinguishable. But there was no mistaking her anger, her impatience.r />
  Caleb clenched his jaw, ignoring her, focusing on the puck. Waiting...

  Watching...

  He leaned over, getting into position, let himself move back another few inches. Definitely crowding her, getting in her way, blocking her view.

  "Get the fuck out of my crease!" He heard her words that time, low and angry. Something smacked him across the lower back and he stumbled forward, caught himself at the last minute. What the fuck? Had she just shoved him?

  He shook his head, ignoring everything but the puck as Shane shot it toward him. Caleb caught it with the edge of his blade—barely—and spun around, flipping it toward the net. Once, twice. Once more, only to have Shannon block it each time. One more shot to her right, his breath held as she dove for it.

  Close. So fucking close...

  He didn't think, didn't stop to think, was only reacting. That's all he had time to do: rely on his instinct and react. He lunged forward, swiped at the puck with the flat of his stick just as Shannon moved to cover it—

  And caught her in the wrist with the edge of his blade, hard.

  He ignored the flashing light, the horn signaling the goal, the boos of the crowd filling the arena. He dropped his stick and bent over, reaching for her—

  She jumped to her feet, brown eyes flashing in anger as she threw her helmet to the ice. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

  "I didn't—"

  She lunged forward, both of her hands pushing against his chest hard enough to cause him to stumble. "Don't ever fucking get in my crease like that again. What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

  "Shannon, I—"

  She wasn't listening. And holy shit, she looked like she was ready to tear him a new one. And if this had been a real game, he'd expect nothing less. If this was a real game, they'd be two seconds away from a major brawl.

  And maybe they were because her teammates were suddenly surrounding her, pushing him away. Taylor was waving her arms at the ref, getting in his face and yelling about slashing and goalie interference.

  Caleb moved closer, looked down when another hand shoved him in the chest. It was Sammie, the petite, quiet, newlywed. Only not so quiet as she jammed a finger in his face.