Forbidden Puck: A Hockey Romance

by June Winters

  “Wha'? Again?” I mumbled.

  “I figured we'd go for the MacAllister's hat trick: three times in three days. What do you think?”

  “God, no! Ryan Ryder! If you even try to take me there again—”

  He laughed and hugged me. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding! There's a fancy French place that does an over-the-top prix fixe brunch special. It's delicious, it's crazy hard to get a table, and it's expensive. You'll love it.”

  I clapped my hands with excitement. “Now you're talking.”

  “Then we'd better get up.”

  We staggered out of bed, both of us bleary-eyed and exhausted. My skin was covered in a salty, sticky glaze—a reminder of last night's marathon love-making session. We'd truly done it all until the sun came up. I liked to think that I was making up for lost time, and making sure my 'first time' was plenty memorable.

  But it was a new day, and that meant a new start. I took a shower, and when I emerged fresh and clean and soft, Ryan was waiting for me in his bedroom with a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Here you go,” he said, passing the mug to me. “My turn to shower.”

  Ryan showered and dressed in a hurry, magically transforming into a crisp, clean-shaven, and devastatingly handsome man who, in another fantastically fitting suit, could've graced GQ's cover. Minus the slightly swollen black eye, anyway.

  “You ready?” he asked me.

  “Yep.” I took his arm. “You look dashing, by the way.”

  “And you look lovely.”

  The plan was to eat brunch and spend the rest of afternoon in downtown Boston. We'd go to the airport from there, so I had to pack my bags to bring with us. I felt a sadness in the air that we were going to leave each other so soon.

  Ryan carried my bags, and we took the elevator down to the lobby. We waited at the curb outside for the valet to return with Ryan's car. It almost slipped my mind that he would have a car, but, duh, of course he'd have a car.

  While we waited for the valet to deliver his car from the parking garage, I tapped my chin and wondered what sort of car Ryan drove. I imagined a brightly-colored exotic sports car that would come roaring up the garage ramp, tires screeching to a halt in front of us, the engine's idle a menacing, organ-rattling hum. He was a professional athlete, after all, and that was the kind of exuberantly tacky stuff they filled their lives with to show their status.

  But when the valet emerged with Ryan's car, I was pleasantly surprised to see a perfectly modest cobalt-blue BMW coupe. A fancy car, no doubt, but not one that screamed rich millionaire athlete.

  “What a nice car!” I told him.

  “Thanks.”

  Ryan got his keys from the valet, gave the young man a tip, and opened my door for me. The cabin was infused with that 'new car smell,' and the comfortable black leather seats were taut and pristine.

  “Is this car new?” I asked.

  “I got it three years ago. When I signed my contract with the Brawlers.”

  “Wow, it still looks and smells new.” I ran my fingers over the smooth and flawless dashboard. He'd obviously taken good care of it.

  Ryan put the car in gear and off we went. He mused, maybe a little self-consciously, “I don't drive a bright red Lamborghini like Lance does.”

  “No, but Lance is loud and obnoxious, and he needs a car that projects those qualities out into the world. This? This suits you. It's classy and luxurious and elegant on the surface, but it packs a lot of rawr under the hood.”

  Ryan laughed. “Nice. I like that—a lot of rawr.”

  “Not to mention … sex appeal.” I reached over to his lap and walked my hand across his built thighs, teasing the long bulge that thickened down one leg of his pants.

  “Damn, Ella. Don't get me too worked up …”

  “You don't want to walk into your posh brunch spot with a raging boner?” I giggled.

  Ryan shook his head and stifled a laugh. “Man. See. You know you're bad, don't you.”

  “Maybe.”

  I snuck my hand into his lap and started rubbing his length.

  “Oh, God,” he sighed. “That's so good …”

  But then there was a buzzing in his pocket, against my hand. It was his cell phone. I fished into his pocket for it and handed it to him.

  Ryan looked at the screen and frowned. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “It's Shea. I better answer.”

  He answered, and I listened to his half of the conversation.

  “Hey, what's up? … Uh huh … yeah … Right. Yep. I know. … Okay. … I'm taking Ella out to brunch. … In two hours? Yeah, I guess I could make it … Alright, bye.”

  He hung up and, without a word, stuffed the phone back into his pocket.

  “Well? What was that?”

  “Shea is trying to set up a team meeting. I'll have to stop by the rink after brunch.” Ryan tried to reassure me with a smile that this was normal, but I could see behind his eyes that something was wrong.

  “A team meeting? On your day off? With such short notice?”

  “Yeah, well …”

  “Is it because of us?”

  “Who knows?” Ryan shrugged. He looked at me and knew I wasn't buying it. “Okay, yeah, it is. But look, I don't want to let it ruin our morning. I can't control what happens, Ella, what's done is done. I just want to enjoy my time with you.”

  “I'm so mad at Lance. He's such an idiot.”

  “He's a good guy …”

  “How can you say that, after he punched you and everything?”

  But Ryan shook his head. “He only did what any good brother should do. I'd do the same thing if I had a sister.”

  “Oh, really? You'd beat some poor guy up, just because he liked your sister? That's so stupid.”

  Ryan grimaced. “If you say it like that, sure, it sounds stupid.”

  “That's because it is stupid.”

  “Maybe you're right. But there's a code we live by, and maybe it's stupid, but I still broke the stupid code.”

  “I guess it's just one of those man things,” I reflected with a sigh.

  “Yep.” He grabbed my hand. “Let's just enjoy our time together, Ella. Whatever happens, I'm gonna find a way through this. I'm not letting you go that easily.”

  I fought back a smile. Secretly, I loved it when he talked about us like that—like we were this star-crossed couple destined to be together, to love each other for all time. Part of me thought it was absurd, that I should know better, because we'd only known each other for so short a time: how could he possibly mean what he was saying?

  “You seem so sure,” I said.

  “Sure about what?”

  “Us.”

  “All I know is that I'm crazy about you, Ella. If you tell me that you don't feel the same way about me, and you want me to leave you alone, then I will. But until that happens, you're mine, and I'm not letting anyone get in our way.”

  Every time I doubted him, he answered in such a way that told me he meant those words. And why shouldn't I believe him, after everything he'd done already?

  I laid my head on his round shoulder and comforted myself with his smell, his presence.

  Chapter 30

  Brunch

  Ella

  Ryan couldn't have picked a better brunch spot. The atmosphere was warm and relaxing even though the place was crowded. We got our table right away, and Ryan looked at me across the table and smiled. I noticed the gap in his teeth that wasn't there last night.

  “Hey! You're not wearing your implant!” I said excitedly.

  “I left it out for you. You said the missing tooth was kinda cute, didn't you?”

  “I sure did.”

  “Still think it's cute?” He simpered, showing off his smile in all its imperfect glory. “Or should I pop the implant back in?”

  “Leave it just the way it is.”

  He chuckled. “You're strange. I think I look like a hobo without it.”

  “No, you look like a hockey playe
r.”

  “I thought you didn't like hockey players?”

  “But I like you, and you're a hockey player, so leave the tooth out just for me, okay?”

  He nodded, looking pleased. “Sure thing, Ella.”

  Our food came—Ryan was right, this place was delicious, and it was really a perfect date. We made each other laugh and shared all the intimate stories and secrets that are reserved for the people you truly care about and trust.

  Brunch was so lovely, in fact, I nearly forgot the fact that I was leaving soon, or that Ryan had to cut into our last day together to attend some mysterious team meeting at the rink. But alas, those two things hung over us like a cloud on a sunny day.

  Soon, our food was gone and Ryan paid the bill, and then we were back in his car riding towards the rink again. The cabin was eerily silent, and I knew that Ryan was nervous and had no idea what to expect.

  “Will Lance be there?” I asked him.

  “I don't know. Maybe.”

  “For real, Ryan, what did Shea tell you over the phone?”

  “The GM has a trade lined up. Looks like I'm going to Vancouver.”

  I gasped—I'd started to buy into the fairy tale that Ryan and I could maybe make something work. Boston to New York wasn't a terrible trip by any means. But,

  “Vancouver?” I repeated, aghast.

  That was different. That was a much longer flight. That fairy tale, that unlikely picture of 'us' as destined lovers started fading in my mind. Ryan might have meant it when he said he liked me, but how could we ever expect to survive a distance like that, when we barely knew each other?

  “Yep. Vancouver.” Ryan took his eyes off the road long enough to give me an ironic smile. “Last night he was saying Winnipeg, because it's the coldest city in the league. But Vancouver … that's the furthest hockey city from New York.”

  “Lance … I hate you … I'll never forgive you for this …”

  “Well, just for the record, I'm not traded just yet. Who knows, if they wait long enough, the deal might go sour and I could end up somewhere else. Hopefully some place closer to the east coast.”

  “What's the hold up?”

  “Shea's trying to get everyone together before the trade goes down. Me, Lance, the GM, and him. He says he wants to talk the problem over first and see if cooler heads could prevail.”

  “Yeah?” I asked, with a sudden injection of pure hope in my voice.

  But Ryan shook his head. “It's a nice thought, but I wouldn't count on it. I like you and I'm not backing down, no matter what.”

  “Ryan …”

  It seemed so romantic, but so tragic at the same time. Wasn't there some way we could continue on, without this being such a big deal? But no … he'd tried to do it that way, and I helped turn it into the disaster that it was now.

  I squeezed his manly arms. “I'm sorry I didn't just go along with this in secret like you wanted.”

  “No way. Don't apologize for that. It wouldn't have worked out between us. Your way—the truth—is the only shot we've got.”

  I stared at the handsome athlete. This was really him. The guy I'd been waiting for.

  ***

  We arrived at the rink just in time for their meeting.

  Ryan parked the car and switched off the engine. With a deep breath, he turned to me. “Might be better if you stay in the car. If they see you with me, we might unleash hell all over again.”

  I shook my head. “No. I want Lance to see me so he knows I'm serious. If he thinks he can throw a tantrum and get you traded to Vancouver, then I want him to know he's saying goodbye to me, too.”

  He took my hand. “Thanks, Ella. That means a lot to me.”

  So we walked, hand-in-hand, and made our way into the arena through the staff-only entrance. We took an elevator to the top floor; a long hallway led to a set of mahogany double-doors: the Brawlers GM's office. Ryan knocked and a gray-haired middle-aged man in a business suit answered.

  “Hello, Radar,” he said.

  “Morning, Mr. Tremblay. This is Ella Couture. Ella, this is our GM, Mr. Tremblay.”

  I smiled at the older man and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he said politely, although he wore a pained smile, as if he were saying, but boy I wish the circumstances were different!

  We entered the GM's office. Lance and Shea were already seated inside. When Lance saw me, he shot up from his chair. “You guys can get started. I need to have a word with my sister.”

  Lance whisked me out of the office and into a press box overlooking the arena's empty, blinding white sheet of ice.

  “So I take it you didn't go to a hotel last night like you said you would,” he mused. “You probably ran home to Radar, didn't you? I heard you guys had brunch this morning, too?”

  “It's none of your business what we did.”

  “Well, I hope all that quality time together was worth it, because he's about to be traded to Vancouver.” He stared at me, shaking his head with disbelief. “I can't believe you're actually standing here right now.”

  “I'm here because Ryan took me to brunch this morning, and he was going to take me to the airport for my flight. Unlike you, who lured me to Boston all because you had some selfish interest in mind, spent the whole weekend with your girlfriend, and would rather throw me in a cab and be rid of me than spend actual time with me.”

  “Whatever. You shouldn't have come here with Radar, end of story. If you thought you could show up and change my mind, you're wrong. You're only adding to my embarrassment, that's the only thing you're doing.”

  I folded my arms angrily. “Is that what this is about? You don't care about me or my feelings at all. You just think it's embarrassing that your little sister might like your teammate.”

  “Damn right, I think it's embarrassing. He used you, Ella. And you think you like him? Don't make me laugh.”

  “I do like him. And he likes me.”

  Lance rolled his eyes. “So I've heard.”

  “Actually, he said he loves me.”

  “He said he lov—” Lance couldn't finish the sentence. A rage boiled in his eyes, his fists balled and his forearm trembled, and he leaned in the direction of Mr. Tremblay's office. “I oughtta go kill the bastard.”

  I grabbed him by the shirt, dug my heels into the ground and kept him from going.

  “I feel the same way about him, Lance.”

  “Bullshit. You've known each other for three days. You don't love him, you're just high on emotions. And he only told you he loves you so he could get in your pants, just like I did with Qu—” For the second time, Lance failed to finish his sentence.

  “Excuse me?” I laughed, but it wasn't a funny ha-ha laugh. “You were about to say, just like you did with Quinn. Weren't you?”

  He swallowed. “Well, uh. I mean, if that was true in the first place, then maybe that's what I did.”

  “You're such a liar, Lance. For once in your life, just be honest with me.”

  “Ugh. Okay, yeah, I said it. Happy? That's what guys like us do, Ella. We lie to get what we want. And that's why I'm trying to protect you from Radar. He's just like me.”

  “Thanks, but I don't need your protection. And no, he's not like you at all.”

  “You don't even know him, though. And you definitely don't know him like I do. I told you he's a player, but I didn't tell you the sort of thing he's into. Ella, I could tell you something about him that would make you sick to your stomach.”

  “Like what?”

  “He's into some weird shit. He asks for something very specific from every girl he gets with.”

  “You're talking about his panty collection?”

  Lance's jaw dropped. “He—he told you about that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How? Why?”

  “He showed it to me, Lance, because he wanted me to know why I didn't deserve to be with a guy like him.”

  Lance was speechless. He hemmed and hawed and scratche
d at his head. “That's … surprising, actually … I only found out about it because I snooped in his room and found it … he got so pissed at me … even more pissed when I told our teammates …”

  “Well, that doesn't surprise me, Lance. He seems pretty ashamed about it.”

  “Then why the hell did he do it in the first place?”

  I huffed. “I don't know why he did it, Lance. People are complicated. Life is hard and it makes people do strange things. The point is, he told me about it, thinking it'd scare me off forever.”

  “And?”

  “It didn't, obviously. It just made me like him more. He's honest with me, Lance. More honest than any guy I've ever known.”

  “But just last night, you were saying he made you lie …”

  “Yep. But then he felt horrible about it and came clean to you to set things right with me. He didn't have to do that, you know. He could've gone on with his life and you never would've found out that we'd done anything. And before you even start to think it: he didn't set things right just to try to get with me, because he kept saying he didn't deserve me.”

  Lance clutched his head between his hands. “I'm so confused. This isn't like Radar at all.”

  “Maybe you've never seen this side of him before. Maybe he means it when he says he loves me, Lance.”

  His brow furrowed. “But it's only been three days?”

  “I know. And when I think about it, believe me, I think it's a little crazy, too. But sometimes, Lance, you meet someone, and the heart just knows. From the second I met Ryan, I felt a pull to him—even if I didn't want it to be there.” I paused. “It's like how you feel with Lindsay, right?”

  That love-struck, dopey grin that he reserved for any mention of Lindsay returned. “I mean … the first time I saw that round, thick fuckin' ass? Yeah. I knew.”

  I slapped my forehead. “Nevermind …”

  “It's the same thing!” Lance protested.

  “Listen, Lance,” I said seriously, “let's put everything else aside for the moment. I don't know what's going on with this trade stuff, but if you have any part in it, I'm asking you to try, just try to work this through with Ryan before you do something crazy. Please? Just talk to him? Remember, he's your best friend. I know you're angry now but if you cut him off forever, you're not going to realize how much you miss him until it's too late.”