Las Vegas Sidewinders: Brock

by Kat Mizera

  “Seems to me if vampires are immortal they shouldn’t be in comas.”

  “If you’d like to take this up with Bud Hendricks, the creator of the show, I can probably make that happen?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe when the season’s over. Anyway, you were saying?”

  “I was saying, since my character’s in a coma, I’m ninety percent sure there isn’t anything they’ll need me for unless they change something at the last minute, so there’s a good chance I could come tomorrow. I’ll fly if I can find convenient times, and be back Saturday afternoon so I can be around when Bella comes home from her visit with Angel.”

  “Let me know. We have practice tomorrow but I should be done in time to pick you up if you don’t arrive before one.”

  “I’ll check flights and text you.”

  “Great. See you tomorrow.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  “Me, too.” He disconnected, smiling.

  Brock’s black F-150 was waiting outside as Ashleigh walked out of the airport. They’d decided it would be better if he didn’t meet her inside as it was too easy to be spotted by the press. Even though they’d agreed to go out again, for Bella’s sake, they wanted to stay under the radar. He didn’t care that much, but she did, so he’d acquiesced. Seeing her approach now, he couldn’t help but smile. She was dressed down again, in jeans and a T-shirt, and he wondered what she looked like in a dress. He’d seen her in them on TV but that wasn’t the same thing. So far, she’d worn jeans each time he’d seen her in person and he wondered if it was intentional.

  “Hi.” She got into the passenger seat and smiled.

  “Hi.” He looked into her eyes and resisted the urge to lean over and kiss her. “So, uh, where to?”

  “I don’t care.” She put on her seatbelt. “We could go back to your place and talk?”

  “Sure.” He put the truck in gear and eased into traffic. “Are you staying at the Venetian?”

  “No.” She paused. “I didn’t get a hotel room. I always stay on the Strip, but I don’t want you driving back and forth on my account, so I figured I’d wait and get a room close to your place.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  They got to his apartment in less than twenty minutes and he was glad his cleaning service had come today. He hadn’t been expecting her to spend the night, but he’d had them come just in case. Now he was nervous, unsure what to do. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever dated and having her fly in for twenty-four hours was different, too. Something told him sex wasn’t on the table, and since that’s all he’d done for the last seven years, he’d been wracking his brain all day for ideas. He was good with talking, but was that all they were going to do? Wouldn’t she get bored? He’d considered asking one of his married teammates, but they’d all seen them leave together the night they’d met and were already giving him shit, so he hadn’t dared.

  “This is nice,” Ashleigh said, walking over to the windows and looking out. “Can you see the Strip at night?”

  “Yeah.” He was nodding as he joined her at the windows. “It’s why I picked this unit.”

  “My condo has a nice view, too. I’ll hate giving it up when we move.”

  “You’re moving?”

  “I think it’ll be better for Bella if I get a house. Plus, it’s always a good investment in L.A. I love where I live, though. Brentwood is so central to everything.”

  “Most of my teammates have houses, even the single guys, because of the investment, but I’ve always worried about getting traded.”

  “This is the last year of your current contract, right?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I won’t know until summer what’s going to happen but we’ve clinched a spot in the playoffs, so that’s always good.”

  “It’s hard, always wondering, isn’t it?” She met his eyes. “It’s the same for me. I have a contract with the show for two more years, but if ratings dip and it gets canceled, that’s the end. At least you’ll most likely get picked up by another team; it’s not like that in TV. I could get on another show, but I could also get nothing.”

  “That happens in sports, too,” he said quietly. “But I try not to think about it, you know? If it gets in my head, I can’t focus on the game, and that’s all I can think about. One game at a time, one practice at a time.”

  She nodded. “Oh, so Bella wanted me to show you her picture.” She opened her phone and showed him a picture of Bella wearing the pink tiara. “I think she’s had it on since I gave it to her.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad she likes it. She’s super cute.”

  “She is.” Ashleigh put her phone away.

  “So what do you want to do tonight? Or…today?”

  She laughed. “I’m pretty low-key. We can go out or stay in, I don’t care.”

  “Look.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m way out of practice. I’m not going to lie, dating for the last seven years has been dinner or drinks and sex. I told you I wanted to try to get to know each other, but I’m not sure how it works anymore. The last time I met someone new was in high school and back then we just wanted to be anywhere our parents weren’t. I don’t think that applies here.”

  She turned and gave him the sweetest smile he’d seen in years. “Don’t worry, I’m not sure how it works, either. I’ve dated, but I already told you what guys want from me: status, introductions, or sex. The last time I went out with a guy who liked me for me was also high school.”

  “Then we should go out,” Brock said firmly. “Let’s do something fun.”

  She squinted at him. “Nothing that requires athletic ability like bowling or golf. You’ll definitely make me look bad.”

  “Going to a movie is out because the whole point is for us to get to know each other.”

  She paused. “You know what I’ve always wanted to do?

  “What?”

  “Zip line across Fremont Street.”

  He scratched his beard. “Uh, okay, sure. We can do that.”

  She grinned. “Why do you sound hesitant?”

  “Not sure I’m allowed.”

  “What do you mean?” she frowned.

  “There’s certain things I’m not supposed to do during the season, like sky diving or downhill skiing. I can’t say for sure whether something like the Fremont Street zip line is technically against the rules.”

  “You want to call one of your teammates or something? We don’t have to. I mean, I want to, but I understand if you can’t.”

  He looked into her eager face and slowly shook his head. “I know for sure it doesn’t specifically say I can’t, so this is one of those cases where I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission. It’s a tourist attraction, no one gets hurt. Right?”

  She grimaced. “Are you sure?”

  “Yup.” He grabbed his keys. “Let’s do it.”

  7

  Zip lining with Brock on the Zoomline was the most fun Ashleigh had had in years. As they sailed under a massive video screen, super-hero style, she felt freer than she ever had in her life. With the wind flying through her hair and Brock’s deep, rumbling laugh coming from the zip line to her right, she wanted to do it over and over again. As soon as they got down she turned and threw her arms around him.

  “Thank you!” she whispered. “That was amazing.”

  “That was so cool. I’m glad you suggested it.” His blue eyes were burning with intensity and she hoped he would kiss her, but instead, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the street. “Now what do you want to do, Wonder Woman?”

  “Let’s get a drink. I’m pumped on adrenaline.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The night got better from there. They found a little hole-in-the-wall bar and had a few drinks before wandering off to find somewhere to eat. They had a fantastic meal at the Redwood Steakhouse where they indulged their mutual love of steak again, and decided to walk it off exploring the Fremont Street Experience and the Viva Vision light show. Brock had done
it a few times when friends had come to town, but Ashleigh never had, so he went through it again since the light show was spectacular and there was a lot to see. They finally settled at a little bar, ordering drinks and sitting close together.

  “I’m glad you talked me into another date,” she said against his ear. “Tonight has been fun.”

  “I’ll take you zip lining any time, baby!” He laughed. This time when his eyes locked with hers, a distinct zing of electricity passed between them. She let her eyes flutter closed as he leaned into her, his lips parting hers gently. Digging his fingers in her hair, he slanted his mouth over hers, hovering slightly before taking it. She opened to him when his tongue sought hers, and the fire that spread through him was intense and immediate. Their tongues mated with a rough tenderness he couldn’t describe, equal parts hot and sweet, and he had to pull away when she moaned.

  “We might want to slow down,” he whispered against her mouth. “Being in public and all.”

  “Mmm.” She nodded with obvious reluctance, her arms around his neck. “We may have had a lot to drink.”

  “Is that the only reason?” His voice was husky as he looked into her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Fuck.” He kissed her again, long and hard, until her fingers clutched at his shoulders and she slid off the bar stool to stand between his legs and lean fully against his strong chest.

  He ran a tender finger along her cheek, pulling back long enough to take a deep breath. “We should get out of here, go walk some more… there’s bound to be someone taking a picture somewhere.”

  She sighed. “You’re right. I’ve just never enjoyed kissing someone so much.”

  “I don’t think I have, either, but we have to think about Bella.”

  “Wait—are you suddenly the responsible one now?” She giggled, her eyes twinkling with mirth.

  “Jesus, no. Just probably less drunk than you.” He was laughing, too, taking her hand as he handed the waitress some money.

  “We should zip line again.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “We’ve had a bit to drink. You don’t think you’ll puke?”

  “Hell no! In fact, let’s do another shot and then go zip line.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “Let’s be crazy tonight!”

  “But Bella—”

  “We’re not breaking any laws or hurting anyone—just you and me, tearing up Fremont Street.”

  “Holy hell, you’re gonna kill me…”

  “Please?”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.”

  Brock woke up slowly. His head was pounding, his mouth felt like the Sahara, and there was a deliciously warm, round ass pressed against his crotch, attached to someone who was snoring softly. Ashleigh. His eyes flew open, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed they were both dressed. She was still in her jeans and T-shirt, and he still wore his jeans, though his torso was bare. Holy hell, what had they done last night? There had been the second and third zip line adventures. And the shots. So many shots… His stomach clenched a little at the thought.

  Morning skate. The thought was fleeting but made him sit up with a grunt of panic. He immediately grabbed his phone and texted Vlad.

  Please tell me morning skate was optional.

  It’s not for two more hours. What’s wrong with you?

  Fuck. Never mind. I’ll see you at the arena.

  He laid back down with a groan and closed his eyes just as Ashleigh gasped and sat up straight.

  “Hey.” He didn’t open his eyes, talking in a raspy, sleep-addled voice.

  “What… Oh shit, my head.” She lay back down again, flat on her back, an arm thrown over her eyes. “Fuck me loud, I’m hungover.”

  “It was your idea to get wild,” he muttered.

  “It was your idea to go out on another date,” she responded.

  “I was thinking dinner and a movie.”

  “You were thinking Netflix and chill.” She giggled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, too.

  “We’re fully dressed. I’m pretty sure we missed both the Netflix and the chilling.”

  “I desperately need a Bloody Mary.”

  “I have a morning skate at eleven.” He groaned.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s eight forty-five.”

  “Oh, geez, I’m sorry.” She turned onto her side so she could look into his face. “You’re going to be exhausted today and it’s my fault.”

  “It’s okay.” He smiled. “I’m a big boy. I knew what I was getting into.”

  “I’m genuinely sorry. I didn’t even think about you having practice today.”

  “It’s a morning skate, which is a lot less intense than practice. I’ll be fine. I’ll take a nap afterward and be ready to play.”

  “Want to order room service while we get ready to go? You need fuel, even if it’s not a real practice.”

  He groaned again. “Babe, I don’t have room service at my apartment.”

  She opened her eyes and looked around. “Oh god, just kill me.”

  He laughed. “How do you take your eggs? I can make some.”

  “Scrambled.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Ashleigh padded into the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush as he pulled on a T-shirt and a moment later her voice wafted through the closed door. “Brockkkk…”

  “Yeah, babe?” There was a touch of unease in the way she’d said his name and he sat up warily.

  “What’s this?” She came out of the bathroom holding out her left hand.

  He frowned. “Uhhh…a ring?”

  “It’s a gold band. I’ve never seen it before— Oh my God! You have one, too.”

  “What?” He looked down at his left hand and a strange roiling started in his stomach, threatening to send everything he’d drank last night back up. “What the…?” He sat up in alarm. “We didn’t… Did we…?”

  “We couldn’t have, could we?” Her eyes were wide and filled with trepidation. She grabbed her purse off the floor and yanked it open. She pulled out a handful of folded papers and stared at them.

  “What are those?” he asked, staring.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. She held them out. “I can’t look.”

  He got to his feet and slowly approached her, reaching out to take them. They exchanged a long, uncertain look before he finally unfolded them.

  Sonofabitch. If these receipts for the “deluxe package” were any indication, they’d gotten married at a chapel on Fremont Street. He’d known she would be trouble if he got a taste of her, but it had never crossed his mind he could do something this irresponsible. What the fuck was he going to do now? Especially since there were tears slipping down his alleged new wife’s cheeks as she watched him, her lower lip trembling.

  “Did we?” she whispered.

  “It looks like it, but I’m not sure.” He cleared his throat. Crap. She’d just collapsed into a chair and was sobbing. “Hey.” He dropped to his knees in front of her, tentatively reaching out to touch her. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t cry. Come on, look at me.”

  She raised red eyes, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry. Oh my God, what have we done?”

  “You didn’t do it alone.” His thoughts were spinning, trying to figure out what to say, what they were going to do, and how to get her to stop crying. “We can get it annulled.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “We’ll call my lawyer. Just give me a minute to handle the morning skate.” He pulled out his phone and texted Cody.

  Have a family emergency. Can you cover for me? I’ve got a situation.

  What kind of situation? Is everything okay? Cody’s response was swift.

  Brock closed his eyes. If he told Cody before he had a plan, things could go south quickly, but not showing up for a morning skate without a good excuse wouldn’t fly either.

  Can you cover for me? I promise I’ll explain before the game, but I need a few hours.

>   Dude, I need to tell Coach something.

  I eloped last night, but it’s complicated and if the press gets wind of this, there could be repercussions I can’t explain right now.

  Did you marry Ashleigh Hunter?!

  How did you know that?

  Lucky guess?

  Can you talk to Coach for me or not?

  Yeah. But you’ll owe me.

  Anything you need. I’ll be there for the game.

  Brock put the phone down and turned to Ashleigh, who was staring out the window, her face pale and drawn.

  “Hey.” He sat in the chair next to her. “Let’s not freak, okay? First thing we need to do is call my lawyer. He can find out if this is legit or not.”

  “Okay.” She seemed to be shivering and he couldn’t resist hugging her.

  “I also think you need to change your flight.”

  “Yeah, I should do that.” She reached for her phone and froze. “Oh, Jesus, Brock.” She held it out and there on the screen was a Twitter alert.

  “You’re trending,” he said slowly. He read the first few posts and groaned.

  Ashleigh Hunter weds mystery man in Vegas.

  Ashleigh Hunter off the market—who’s the new hubby?

  Did Sidewinders defenseman Brock Lassiter marry a Hollywood sweetheart? Pictures indicate this is real…

  He got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. “We can’t handle this on empty stomachs. I’ll make us something while I call my lawyer.”

  8

  Less than an hour later, Brock’s attorney called him back. Brock had given him the information on the receipts Ashleigh had.

  “Hey, Chandler.” Brock was anxious to hear what the attorney had to say. Chandler Hastings had been his attorney for three years, since he’d come to Las Vegas, and he trusted him implicitly. “What did you find out?”

  “I called over to the chapel, explained that there were some concerns about the legitimacy of two celebrities getting married in such a touristy place. They looked you up and verified you got married. I’m sending a runner over there right now to get the papers since I have your power of attorney. They’re one of the most well-known chapels in town and unless your bride is underage or something like that, you’re a married man, my friend.”