Brutal Love & Stanley Cups
Book 7 in The Slapshot Series
Heather C. Myers
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
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Acknowledgments
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Also by Heather C. Myers
Chapter 1
She had a bad dream.
It was about him.
She hated that even now, after all of these years, he still managed to haunt her. Maybe it was because Seraphina Hanson had had a job for her and he had been picked up by the Newport Beach Seagulls just before the trade deadline, along with Art Jackman. Maybe it was because now that he was back in southern California, the chance of running into him on the street was much more possible than when he had been down in Florida.
He probably hated Florida. The guy couldn't stand humidity.
Not that she cared.
Diana cleared her throat and forced herself out of bed. She couldn't allow herself to think about Dean Morgan. The guy was an asshole. Just because they had a history did not mean anything.
"It's been five years since I saw him," she muttered to herself. "Why the hell..." She didn't finish that thought. She didn't want to wake Bill.
Looking down at her boyfriend of nine months, she felt her lips curve into a small smile. Bill. She needed to remember that she had Bill now and that was what mattered.
Not Dean friggin' Morgan and his asshole tendencies.
She clenched her jaw and tried to get comfortable. Her eyes closed and she turned on her side. She tried to relax but her mind buzzed with anticipation. This was almost as bad as her sex dream with Pennywise the Clown from It, but at least she didn't have actual experience with Tim Curry so romantic feelings didn't actually linger.
This was not the case with Dean Morgan. She had met him as a high school graduate. He was ten years older than she was, the epitome of a bad boy in a leather jacket and slicked back black hair. Even now, she refused to let Bill wear one. It brought back too many memories.
Which was stupid, since that had nearly been ten years ago. It had been one summer with a pro hockey player. A whirlwind romance that had no choice but to fizzle out.
She hadn't gotten over him for the longest time. One of their mutual friends said he took a chainsaw to the sofa the day before he left to go back to Florida for training camp.
Thinking about it now, Diana shuddered. They had so many memories on that godawful sofa. If he had really done that...
Maybe he had been affected by the breakup more than she thought.
She wondered if the little things she left at his place - a thin scarf she used to wear when she thought she was being so sophisticated, even in the California sunshine; an old pleather jacket she had bought from Forever 21 at Fashion Island to complete the outfit she wore on their first date; her old toothbrush - made things worse. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he threw them out like they were trash, yesterday's news.
Not that mattered. She had Bill. Beautiful Bill who had nothing in common with Dean Morgan.
She pulled the cover under her chin, turning away from Bill so she stared at the beige wall currently filled with bleak shadows. Regardless of the reassurances she tried to give herself, she couldn't fall back asleep.
--
The problem was, Bill was an avid Gulls fan. He worked for Grant Winsor as a paralegal who made decent money despite the nature of the job. He was completing his final year in law school at UCLA and would be graduating in the next couple of months before he took the bar exam. Everyone aware of Grant Winsor knew he was an avid Gulls fan - his daughter was even dating first line right winger Kyle Underwood. Grant had his own season tickets and his firm also had glass tickets he liked to give out to clients or employees.
And tonight was Game 1 in the damn Stanley Cup finals and they had glass seats. Diana had managed to avoid attending any game with Bill quite successfully - she had work, she was sick, she was out with her friends. But he purposefully made plans to take her to the game without telling her they were going until he turned into the Ice Palace.
"What are we doing here?" she asked - although yelped was probably a better descriptor.
"I thought I'd surprise you," Bill said, a big smile on his face. "I know you're a Gulls fan, so I didn't get why you kept avoiding going to the games - even playoff games - with me. But I wouldn't want to take anyone to the finals except you." He grabbed her hand, resting on her lap, and brought it to his lips. "You think we'll get on the kiss cam?"
Oh, God. The kiss cam? She hadn't even thought about the kiss cam. This was too damn much.
'Maybe he won't even see you,' an internal voice pointed out. 'Maybe there will be no kiss cam tonight. Maybe Dean will be a healthy scratch.'
She snorted. Yeah, right. Dean Morgan might be in his thirties and getting close to retirement age in hockey, maybe he wasn't as fast as he normally was, but the man was still damn solid and gritty as any other twenty-year-old kid. He was good at what he did - more defensive than offensive, but that was why he was paired with Solis. When Solis jumped in an offensive play, he was a reliable defender to watch the blue line.
Not that she noticed.
The tickets they had included parking so they found a spot and headed for the rink. It was crowded, which made sense, considering the game was just about to start. Traffic prevented them from making warm-ups, which made Diana feel like God was smiling down on them. After walking through security, they headed to their seats. She pulled her motorcycle jacket closer to her. If he had told her they were going to a damn hockey game and sitting against the glass, she would have worn her old UCI hoodie, wouldn't have straightened her hair, or even bothered with makeup. She would have made herself as unnoticeable as possible.
However, considering this was a date, Clara actually put effort into the way she looked. Thank goodness she hadn’t opted for that skirt she was going to wear, although she had a feeling Bill probably would have said something.
She wished he had. She would have refused to come. But he knew that - hence why he kept quiet about everything.
Bill led her down to their seats. She shouldn’t have been surprised when they were at the glass just behind the Gulls’ bench, which meant there were plenty of opportunities for Dean to see her. She swallowed as she sat, glad that they had arrived too late to watch warm-ups.
“Do you want something to munch on?” Bill asked. “I’m going to grab a hot dog.”
Was he seriously asking her about food now? After taking her here, to a place he specifically knew she didn’t want to be? She tried to keep her glare in check, reminding herself that he was just trying to be polite. He wanted to ensure his girlfriend was fed and satisfied. She understood.
“I’m fine.” She hoped her voice didn’t actually sound as shrill as she thought it did. She hoped her voice wasn’t as sharp or as maniacal
as it came out. “Thank you.”
He gave her an odd look but luckily he didn’t say anything about it, even when she pressed her teeth together and shot him a smile. It was probably the most ridiculous smile he had ever seen. But he left, nodding his head, probably to himself, leaving Clara alone to breathe.
She started coming up with different ways for how she was going to get out of this. She could pretend to be sick - but stomach issues might not be worth it to Bill for him to leave the game.
He would, she thought to herself. You know if you really wanted to, you could ask him to leave and he would leave. That was how much he loved you.
Clara took the bill of her hat and pulled it down, hoping it would hide her face even more than it already was. Her temporarily straight hair masked her profile. It had been seven years since she saw him. She was twenty-six now, which would make him thirty-six. They hadn’t seen each other, nor talked to each other in that time. Well, save for when Clara saw him on television, playing hockey.
Clara stretched out her legs as best as she could, having seats behind the bench. Luckily, the Zambonis were sweeping the ice and ensuring it was smooth enough to play on. The timer above on the cubed big screen said there was roughly ten minutes until puck drop. Clara knew that meant she had eight minutes before the Gulls were on the ice once again.
She thought about telling Bill her history with Dean Morgan. Part of her wanted to, especially considering she wasn’t sure why she was keeping it a secret in the first place. But she worried he might not believe her or assume she was only saying that to try and impress him. Bill was sweet but he was rational and there were times he dismissed what Clara said because he didn’t think she knew what she was talking about. She refrained from talking to him about hockey only because she was actually very thorough in her understanding of the sport and didn’t want to get into a battle when she pointed out something that he thought was accurate as actually being false.
“I hear he’s still single,” a voice said from behind her. “Jackman got with that petite blonde chick. I don’t remember her name, but Morgan is still single. Rumor has it he likes to pick up women outside after a win so let’s hope the Gulls win tonight.”
“Candace, we should hope the Gulls win because we want them to win the Stanley Cup,” a second voice said. “Not because we have a thing for a veteran defenseman.”
The first voice, Candace, snorted. “I honestly don’t care one way or the other,” she remarked. “All I care about is getting into bed with Morgan. I’ve been on those hockey forums and the women who have hooked up with him say he’s a very generous partner.”
“And how do you know those things are even true?”
“I don’t, but everything has a grain of truth. At least, that’s what my mom always says.”
“And do you really want to take your mother’s advice?”
“Cheap shot,” Candace said. “Look, I don’t care about hockey, but Dean Morgan is gorgeous and he’s one of the few Gulls that are still single. Even that Russian guy, the one who got divorced last year, is seeing someone. At least I’m not focusing on the guys that are with someone, Ariel.”
“How very considerate.” It sounded as though Ariel didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm if she tried. “Look, my dad gave up his seat because of work. I took you so you could get into the game with me, not to get laid. Doesn’t it make you wonder why he’s still single? Isn’t he supposed to be in his thirties?”
“Who cares, when he looks like that?” Candace said. “I’m going I catch his eye. I wore a low cut shirt for a reason.”
Clara pressed her lips together. She didn’t particularly care that a woman was trying to get Dean’s attention because Dean was not her concern anymore. But she did not need anyone trying to get his attention because that would inevitably bring attention to her.
She glanced up at the clock. Three minutes and twenty-three seconds.
The lights dimmed. The mascot dropped from the ceiling, waving the Gulls flag, getting the entire stadium to cheer and scream. And then, the other team - the Florida Gators - touched the ice, causing the majority of the spectators to stand and boo.
When the Gulls touched the ice, Clara held her breath. She immediately saw Morgan, wearing the number thirty plastered on his back. Fitting, he was playing his old team. Thirty, for her birthday. He still wore it.
Bill got back just in time but Clara didn’t notice. As Dean headed to the bench, preparing for the national anthem, he looked up and happened to catch eyes with her.
“Oh my God, he’s staring at me!” Candace exclaimed.
Clara wished. But he wasn’t. She knew Dean saw her, recognized her, even with the hat and the hair. His eyes still on her as the anthem was sung told her as much.
Chapter 2
Dean Morgan was ready to win. He was focused, he was sharp, he felt good. And then he saw Clara, and everything fell apart.
She looked beautiful, the way she did years ago when he got to call her his. Her red hair was straight and her face was half-hidden underneath that Gulls hat but he instantly recognized her jaw, those lips, that small nose. He hadn’t expected to see her again. He thought about her every single goddamn day that passed, but he never thought he would see her after he left her. She should have come with him. Maybe he should have stayed. But they were ripped apart by circumstance and it was the angriest, most depressed he had ever felt in his life.
He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to focus. He skated back to the bench, ready for the national anthem while Jackman and his defense partners, Underwood, Schumacher, and Ryan stayed out on the ice, getting in position. They would start the game.
As Dawn Rutgar belted out the national anthem, Dean shook off his nerves. Once he stepped on the ice for his first shift, he was fine. The anticipation leading up to that first shift, however, caused his legs to tingle, his body to brim with energy, and he needed to do something active in order to shake it off.
Now, though, Dean continued to stare at Clara from the corner of his eye. She completely avoided eye contact; Dean wasn’t sure if Clara had was avoiding him on purpose or if she hadn’t seen him. But Clara wasn’t stupid. She knew more about hockey than any woman he had met, and that fact was still true today. She would know he was on the Gulls. Now, whether she actually cared was a different story altogether.
“You ready?” Cherney patted Dean on the back, his eyes on the ice. “I don’t know how it’s going to be, Morgan, but don’t be afraid to get chippy.”
Dean nodded but didn’t respond. His focus was on the referee, skating out to the middle of the ice, black puck in his hand. He hoped he was still focused; he hoped he was still ready. But all he could think about - at least, at the moment - was Clara Daniels, the one that got away.
—
Once he got into the game, he set Clara aside. He would come back to her later, of course, but unless he happened to see her in his peripheral vision or as he skated back to the bench after completing his shift, he was all in. The first period was winding down and neither team had gotten on the board yet. For now, it was a battle between goaltenders, which put even more pressure on the defensemen to keep pucks out, to make sure they weren’t accidentally screening Brandon Thorpe, and to check opponents so they would cough up the puck. They also needed to make sure when they cleared the puck, they did it where it hit the boards or a player so it wouldn’t turn into an icing call, and the Gulls players would be forced to stay on the ice rather than change.
Clearing the puck was actually a skill he had that he was proud of. Centers took face offs; defensemen cleared pucks, and Dean was able to do so in a way where it did not turn into an icing call against the team.
The irony wasn’t lost on Dean as he hopped over the boards to skate probably his last shift of the period. Facing Florida in the Stanley Cup finals, the team he had spent the last eight years with. They had traded him at the deadline, and Seraphina Hanson, owner and manager of the Gulls, grabbed him becau
se she wanted grit and experience on her blue line. There was a personal thread Dean couldn’t help but tug as he battled with his former teammates, many of whom he still called friend. He wanted to win, wanted to make sure everyone knew what a mistake the general manager made in thinking he was useless, that he couldn’t help take the team to the finals.
There was no such thing as friend, either, at least when they were on the ice. Before and after, respect was given and received. He could probably take the majority of his former teammates to a bar for a drink, but during the game, they stood in the way of the goal: win.
Dean felt more comfortable skating than walking. He dashed to his zone and immediately got in position. Began had the puck and was skating alongside Drew Stefano and Viktor Jonssan. Morgan and Solis skated just behind them, crossing the blue line into Florida’s zone just enough to form a long rectangle with their other teammates.
Began shot the puck. The goaltender, Hiller, blocked it, and directed a fat rebound to the side. Viktor Jonssan went to pick it up. Began skated toward the crease, which caused him to get check and shoved by Florida’s defense and even Hiller himself.
Viktor passed it back to Morgan. Morgan stopped the puck but made sure to keep its momentum going so the black disk didn’t completely stop moving. He took a hard shot at Hiller once again. Another rebound. All of the Gulls’ forwards went for it. There was chaos at the net. Not even Dean could see what was happening.
The buzzer sounded and the lights started to flash. Somehow, the Gulls had scored.
Negan came flying out from the pack, throwing himself into the boards. Morgan, along with everyone on the ice, went to give him a congratulations.
Brutal Love & Stanley Cups: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 7) Page 1
