Puck Daddy: A Bad Boy Hockey Romance

by Kincaid, Cass

  I give him a sideways glance, the thought of it making the corners of my mouth turn up. “Now, we’re talking. Can you get the keys to your dad’s Camaro?”

  “Can you talk Ashley and Madison from our history class into joyriding with us?”

  “The twins in the back row?” I didn’t even know he’d been interested in them. But, hell, who wasn’t? “Shit, that’d be some birthday present, Gunner.”

  “Think you can sweet talk ‘em?” He grins, nudging me. “There’s two. Might be able to salvage some of your birthday, too.”

  “Damn.” I run my hand through my shaggy chestnut hair, wincing slightly as I think about the work I’d have cut out for me to pull off such a feat. “Which one do you want?”

  “Madison,” Gunner replies without hesitation. “That chick’s been eye-fucking me for weeks.”

  I let out a low whistle. “Can’t say I’m complaining if I can do Ashley.”

  “That means you’ll do whatever the fuck it is you do, and charm them into partying with us?”

  I swore after Layla turned me down that I’d lay low. I know damn well my reputation got in the way of that deal—it was no secret that I could talk the panties off pretty much any girl in our grade. “Ah, hell, why not? I like a challenge.”

  Gunner shakes his head, chuckling. “You really are a manwhore, aren’t you?”

  “You aren’t much better, you realize that, right?” I smile, my first real smile since this stupid party got underway. “You’ll screw any—”

  I feel something hit the back of my neck before I hear the hissing sound that accompanies it. Stumbling away from the table, I clamp my hand down on my neck, feeling something wet. “What the—”

  All at once, I realize that the substance is a bright shade of blue, that it’s still coming at me, covering my shoulders, back, and head…and that there’s a loud wave of high-pitched shrieks assaulting my ears.

  I turn around, holding my jacket up as best as I can to shield myself, but it’s no use. “Come on!” I bellow, pissed off at the gang of young girls. “Fucking silly string? That’s enough!”

  But the shrill laughter continues.

  Every ounce of anger I feel about this party, this stupid family dynamic, and this day erupts inside me. Lowering my jacket and seeing Sadie there, with her finger pressed down on the silly string canister, only makes my blood reach its boiling point.

  “Happy birthday, Ashton!” she screams, her laughter so loud and obnoxious that there are stray tears on her cheeks. The young girl weaves one way, then the next, trying to keep far enough away from me so that I won’t take the aerosol can from her, but never once lets up on the steady stream of string that continues to propel toward me.

  “You think this is fucking funny?”

  “Ash—”

  I can hear Gunner trying to calm me down. Our parents are probably yelling a blue streak, too, because I’ve just cursed at their fucking beloved Sadie, but I can’t hear them over my pounding pulse.

  In one foul swoop, I dive for the canister in her hand. I grab Sadie by the wrist with one hand, and tear the can from her fingers with the other.

  Her laughter stops immediately. “Hey!”

  I let her go, turn, and pitch the canister high into the air, into the heavily treed area behind our house. “I told you to fucking stop!”

  Sadie stands there, wide eyed, her handful of friends tucked in close behind her, not saying a word. Her voice comes out no louder than a whisper. “I just—”

  “You just what? Wanted to be a pain in the ass?” The words come out of me in a tsunami of pent-up rage, fed up with having to put up with this ridiculous charade any longer. “Because you’re succeeding. That’s all you are…a pain in my goddamn ass!”

  Sadie’s bottom lip quivers, and any decent man probably would have left it at that. But I can’t seem to stop myself.

  “You’re just a fucking kid! Go play with your Barbie dolls, or whatever the hell you irritating little girls do!” I yell.

  “Ashton! Cool it!” Gunner barks.

  But the damage has been done. A thin line of tears streak Sadie’s face. Despite her small stature and her thin frame, she stays standing there, taking each verbal blow as it comes. “But…it’s our birthday. I thought we were friends—”

  “Friends?” I choke out the word like it tastes bad, running my hand through my hair, still tangled with blue string. “We’re not friends. Or family, for that matter, but you’d never fucking know it with this crap still going on every year.” I glare around me, at everyone who’s now stopped talking, stopped breathing, mortified by my outburst. “And our birthday? Christ, keep it, Sadie. I’m through sharing it. You can fucking have it.”

  I know I’ve crossed a line, and I damn well know I’m an asshole for taking it out on a kid, but that doesn’t stop me from turning away from that little girl’s tear-streaked face and storming past everyone on the patio.

  No one says a word. Which is good, because by the time I hit the pavement of the driveway, I’m not sure there’s anything anyone could say that would make me feel any worse than I already do.

  Chapter 1

  SADIE

  Present

  No one said growing up was going to be easy. And with only days until my twenty-fourth birthday, it seems I’ve spent more than enough time figuring that out. Being an adult is definitely not my forte, though. That’s pretty obvious.

  I mean, why else would I be hiding out in my apartment, not answering my phone, or the buzzer to unlock the doors downstairs?

  Because I’ve failed at being able to adult like normal people do.

  And…my friends are trying to throw me a birthday party on Friday night.

  I don’t do birthdays. I don’t attend birthday celebrations for other people, and I certainly don’t go out and celebrate my own.

  But Chelsea and Kelly are relentless. I swear, they’ve been alternating shifts between the two of them, taking turns calling my cell and ringing my damn doorbell. My refusal to answer only made them blow up my phone with text messages.

  We’re going out Friday night, Sadie. And you’re going. It’s your birthday. Get ready!

  We’ve been friends since university, so for the life of me, I can’t figure out why they haven’t come to terms with my hatred for birthdays. Is it really so bad to detest celebrating getting older?

  Another text comes in, and even though I roll my eyes, I slide my finger across the screen to read it…accidentally pressing the call button instead.

  “No, no, shit, shit!” But it’s too late. I can already hear the damn thing ringing, and Kelly answers on the second ring.

  “About freaking time!” she exclaims.

  I cringe as I hold the phone up to my ear. “I already told you guys, I don’t do birthdays.”

  “Suck it up, princess. Because we’re doing this one six ways from Sunday! It’s Club Sin, Sadie! Sin! We have to go.”

  “It’s just a club,” I remark, but even I can hear the hint of intrigue in my voice.

  Club Sin—or just plain Sin, as everyone calls it—opened downtown about six months ago. It’s by invite only, which is weird enough, and no one can explain how or why Chelsea got an invite last week, making it even more mysterious.

  The three of us are far from wild party girls, content to watch chick flicks on Saturday nights and order pizza from the local Domino’s. We have our share of dates, but we don’t take them too seriously. Mostly, because we can’t. Have you ever sat across the table from a man who might look educated and handsome, but the moment he opens his mouth it’s impossible to do anything but want to tune him out because you know he’s laying it on thick and absolutely, positively full of shit?

  That, to me, explains the entire generation of men I have to put up with.

  It’s not looking good for the future of mankind.

  So, the idea of going to a club that’s secretive as hell, where no one actually knows what happens beyond the doors, and where ther
e are undoubtedly throngs of well-dressed, twenty-something boys pretending to be men…it doesn’t bode well with me.

  Especially not to celebrate my survival of another year of adulthood.

  “Just a club,” Kelly snorts. “And I’m just a virgin.”

  I chuckle wryly. “But you’re not a virgin.”

  “And it’s not just a club!” she exclaims, laughing. “You’re going with me and Chelsea, whether you like it or not. It might be our only chance to find out if the rumors are true.”

  I sprawl out on the brown leather couch in my living room. “And what rumors would those be?” My gaze is locked on my sweatpants and bare feet. It’s a day off from my job at my dad’s surveying office, but it occurs to me idly that maybe I should put a little more effort into my appearance. You know, something other than gray sweatpants, a loose t-shirt, and the messy bun of sandy hair on my head.

  “Which would you like to hear about first?” Kelly is practically bursting at the seams. “How about the fact that I heard there are orgy rooms? Like, rooms where multiple people can go in together and—”

  “I know what an orgy is, Kelly.” I stare up at the ceiling, pressing my lips together to hold in a sigh.

  “Fine. But what about the VIP areas I heard about? Specialty rooms. You know, whips and chains…bringing the sexual experience to the next level, and all that jazz.”

  My eyebrow arches as I listen to her, but I scoff. “No offence, but it doesn’t really sound like my kind of place.”

  “But it’s Sin! We have to go, Sadie.” She’s openly whining now. “If you won’t go because it’s your birthday, at least come with us to help me out. I don’t want to be the only one with Chelsea. What if she ends up in one of the VIP rooms with some smokin’ hot guy, and I’m left fending for myself amongst the sea of dumbass guys there? I need you!”

  I laugh, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see it. “See? This is exactly why we should stay home.”

  “It’s Sin!” Kelly repeats for the umpteenth time. “If I never get to go there because of you, I’ll never be able to forgive you!”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, still chuckling. “Oh my God, fine. But, I swear to you, Kelly, if I get there and you two ditch me for some kinky shenanigans going on in the back room, I’ll never forgive you.”

  She knows I don’t mean it, just as much as I know she will always forgive me, too.

  “Deal.” I can almost hear her smiling proudly through the phone. “Bring on Friday night!”

  “I can hardly wait,” I mumble.

  But, I have to admit, a small part of me is anticipating this. A night of dancing, drinks, and letting loose. A couple hours to unwind with my girls, and then we can go home and resume our typical, sickeningly mundane lives.

  “This is going to be a night we’ll never forget, Sadie. I can feel it.”

  If only I’d taken her words for the warning they truly were.

  * * *

  Three days. That’s how many days have passed in the blink of an eye, leaving me standing in front of the mirror now, wondering what in the hell someone is supposed to wear to a club that’s known solely for its sexual mysteries.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. It’s just not my scene. Just going to Club Sin is all Chelsea and Kelly have talked about in the past few days, and they’re excitement and anticipation is infectious.

  I want to go to Club Sin tonight—part of me does, anyway—but be damned if I’m going to admit that to my friends.

  Either way, I’m still in my robe and slippers when the buzzer sounds throughout my apartment, announcing a visitor. A quick glance at my phone shows the text Chelsea just sent two minutes ago, saying they were in the parking lot, so I don’t even use the intercom to confirm it’s them. Instead, I just press the button, unlocking the doors downstairs, and wait for the click of heels and tittering voices to make it up the flight of stairs.

  Sure enough, I hear Kelly before she even knocks on the door. I open it, and both girls stop talking immediately.

  “You’re not even dressed yet?” Chelsea says, wide eyed, her eyes taking in my not-so-sexy ensemble. She’s donning a sequined silver tank top and black leather-look leggings with knee-high boots, and Kelly’s wearing a short red tube skirt with a flowy black top and the highest black pumps I’ve ever seen.

  I know without even rummaging through it that my closet doesn’t contain such over-the-top fashion items.

  “I’m working on it,” I reply, a hint of defensiveness in my tone as I turn away from the door and head back in the direction of the bedroom.

  My friends are on my heels the entire way, and Chelsea pushes past me just inside the bedroom door. “Well, work faster. ‘Cuz, Lord, help me, I feel a sin coming on!”

  I laugh, rolling my eyes when she holds her hands up as though to announce, “Hallelujah!” This club has obviously really got her in a twist.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her or Kelly to pick something out for me to wear, but the request doesn’t even get past my lips before they’re both rifling through my closet and dresser drawers in search of the perfect outfit. If I’d been at either of their apartments, I might’ve been worried about what slinky little garments they might choose for me to wear, but seeing as we’re at my place, with my relatively safe attire, I can’t see how too much can go wrong.

  Until Chelsea gives a dramatic huff, turns away from the drawer she’s pulling clothing out of, and announces, “Thank God I knew better! You never wear the kind of thing that shows off those curves, girl! So, I brought you something that will!”

  I sputter and try to explain that I don’t need her clothes, and that I can wear my own, but it’s too late. Chelsea has already pulled Kelly away from the closet, and is pushing her toward the oversized purse she brought with her.

  My chest constricts. If the entire outfit can fit in that purse…

  “Here.” Chelsea tosses a handful of fabric at me—and that’s all it is; a handful. “Go put that on. Then, we can get a little mascara and smoky eyeshadow on that face of yours and get the hell out of here.”

  The moment I see myself in the bathroom mirror, with Chelsea’s very lowcut, very short, and very tight strapless dress on, I know this night has already gotten out of hand. But when she spins me around and I see myself after she’s spent fifteen minutes sexing up my eyes, as she calls it, I know there’s no turning back.

  The reflection staring back at me is a new woman, someone I’ve never met before. She’s pretty…and sexy. And that’s how I feel, sexy as hell.

  Maybe this night won’t be so bad, after all.

  Hell, maybe me and my sexy eyes are made for Club Sin.

  And there’s only one way to find out.

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  Other Books By Cass Kincaid:

  Corrupting His Good Girl

  Made For Sin