Forbidden Puck: A Hockey Romance

by June Winters

  My patience was beginning to run thin. “Yeah, exactly,” I said with an eye-roll.

  I stared at him while I waited for whatever dumb remark came next. His blonde hair was kept neat and tidy, with just a small swoop at his bangs. As much as it pained me to admit it, he'd filled out since our high school days and really grown into a man. A handsome man with all those classic good-looking features: the strong jawline, the rugged chin, the lovely cheek-bones.

  Because of course a guy that was a total dick also had to be sinfully attractive. And mega successful in life.

  I shook my head. “What did you come here for, Beau?”

  “To get a taste,” he answered, and his eyes swept over my cleavage. Just a coincidence, I'm sure.

  Ugh. Ew.

  “… I'm going to ignore the creepy subtext and assume you meant a taste of cupcake,” I mumbled.

  I slid the display door open, grabbed a cupcake, and set it on the counter in front of him.

  Beau scooped the cupcake up in his giant hand and scarfed it down in practically one bite.

  Gross.

  But I guess the guy's gotta have a big appetite. Pro athlete and all.

  I watched him chew and waited for the verdict. Even though I knew he'd act like it was the worst thing ever, even if he truly didn't think so. So why did I care at all?

  His Adam's apple plunged down his wide and muscled neck as he gulped down the last bite.

  “Huh,” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “That's actually good. G'job, Rach.”

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “What flavor is that?”

  “Vanilla raspberry.”

  “I'll take two dozen cupcakes. Whichever flavor.”

  I squinted at him. “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “This isn't some kind of prank?”

  “Shit, Rach! Can a man order two dozen cupcakes or not? I'm going to bring them to the boys. Some of us like to have a little sugar before the game. Helps to get our legs going.”

  With a shrug, I started filling a couple boxes.

  Still feels like he's setting me up for something.

  Piper, looking star-struck, twirled the end of her hair around her finger and stared longingly at the two athletes.

  “So, you two have a game tomorrow night?” she asked.

  “Sure do,” Beau answered.

  “Where?”

  “Madison Square Garden. We're playing against your hometown New York Scouts.”

  “Ooh,” Piper cooed. “I've never been to a hockey game before.”

  “Really?” Beau asked.

  “Yeah, really.”

  I cut in and stacked Beau's two boxes on the counter-top. “Here you are.” I punched his order into the register. “Anything else before you two leave?”

  Beau turned to Hunter. “You want anything bro?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Nah.”

  “That'll be $89.28,” I said to Beau.

  “Hold on. I'm starved.” Beau pointed at the rosemary and cream-cheese roll. “Better give me two of those rolls for the road.”

  I wrapped the rolls up for him and gave him his new total. “That'll be $100.17.”

  Beau reached for his wallet and plucked out two fresh hundred dollar bills from an absurdly healthy stack of them.

  I tried to hand him one of the bills back. “No sense breaking a $100 bill over seventeen cents.”

  Beau shrugged cockily. “Hell, I don't care. Keep the change.”

  I wouldn't keep the change. I knew that'd only make him happy and somehow victorious. I shook my head and held that bill out to him, waiting for him to take it.

  But he just wouldn't take it.

  The stand-off persisted, until Beau had had enough. With a huff, he wrapped his huge hand around my wrist. Moving my hand over the tip jar, Beau made me drop the $100 bill into the jar.

  “There,” he grinned.

  Fucker.

  And as if that wasn't enough, his wallet came out again.

  “And, since Piper said she's never been to a game,” Beau trailed off as he pulled two tickets from his wallet. “Here's two tickets for the game tomorrow night.”

  He displayed those tickets with a smug grin before he placed those in our tip jar, too. And then, just for good measure, another $100.

  I wasn't amused. Oh, stop it already.

  But Piper clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh my God! That's so nice of you! Thank you, Mr. Bradford!”

  “Anytime, sweetheart. And please, just call me Beau.” Beau winked at Piper.

  Piper leaned against the counter-top. “So, Beau, we'd love to go to the game tomorrow night. But what will you fellas be getting up to tonight?”

  I quietly reprimanded her. “Piper!”

  Beau smiled that charming snake-smile of his. “We'll be hanging out at club 1 OAK. Love to see you ladies there.”

  He turned that smile on me next—except I was immune to its voodoo. “Camille. Hope you can make it.”

  Oh, how kind, he does know my name after all.

  “Yeah, we'll see. Bye Beau.”

  We watched as the two men gathered up their boxes and took off.

  The second our door closed after them, Piper fanned herself like she could faint at any moment.

  “Holy fuck, Camille. Those guys are smoking hot.”

  I groaned. “Piper! I can't believe you.”

  “What? They are! My God, those bodies. When they first walked into the shop, I was going to ask if they were firefighters. And heck, that thought made me weak in the knees. But once Beau said that they're professional hockey players?” Piper's eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Marone.”

  I had to laugh. “If you grew up with Beau like I did, you wouldn't think so. But hey, I don't blame you. Appearances can be deceiving.”

  “Really?” Piper asked as she fished the tickets and both hundred dollar bills out of the tip jar. “Because Beau seems nice as hell!”

  “Trust me—he's not.”

  “I'm still just shocked. You never, ever told me that someone you went to high school with is a professional hockey player. That is so cool. And he's so down-to-Earth.”

  “Down-to-Earth! Beau Bradford!” I had to have a hearty laugh over that one. “Judging by the size of that guy's ego in high school? Let's just say that I seriously doubt that he's any more humble now that he's a famous athlete.”

  “Well, I'm not seeing it,” Piper shrugged.

  “Luckily for you, ignorance is bliss.”

  “And you know what else? Thanks to those guys, we turned a profit today.”

  “Our first profit,” I grumbled.

  And we owed it all to Beau Bradford. Talk about bittersweet.

  Piper tried to hand me my half of the tip Beau left us. But I stared at the money as if I couldn't trust it.

  “Aren't you going to take this?” Piper asked, waving the $100 bill at me.

  I folded my arms and turned my nose up. “I don't want it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don't you get it? That whole visit was a power-play by him. He came here to lord his money and celebrity status over me.”

  Piper chortled. “Camille. No offense, but I think you're acting a little nuts. I think I can read between the lines, though … you guys totally used to bang, right?”

  I almost choked.

  “Ew—gross—no. Never.”

  “Really? Because I was picking up on a serious 'banged like rabbits back in the day and yet still haven't got all that hot lovemaking out of their system' kind of vibe from you guys.”

  That thought, that image, of me and Beau 'banging?' My throat squeezed shut like I'd just inhaled a cloud of cancer. I hacked and coughed until at last I could speak again.

  “That is actually so objectively wrong and terrible, you don't even know how bad it is.”

  “Oh yeah? So what happened between you two?”

  “We hated each other, Piper.”

  “I get that—but why?”
<
br />   “Because—” I hemmed and hawed. “Because, reasons.”

  Piper stared at me, waiting for an explanation that I wasn't prepared to give her.

  “You realize you're not making a very convincing case here, right?” she asked. “And didn't you say you were like a shy bookworm type all throughout school? How the heck did you end up on that guy's radar?”

  “I don't wanna talk about it, okay? And give me those!” I reached for the hockey tickets so I could tear them in half, but Piper pulled them out of my grasp before I could snatch them away.

  “Oh no. We're going to that game.”

  I laughed sharply. “No we're not!”

  “You see this?” She pointed at the print on the ticket. “Row 1. Row 1! These are front row seats, Cammy.”

  I shrugged. “Fine. Keep the tickets. You can go, but I won't.”

  She pouted. “Well … what about the club?”

  “I am definitely not going to that, either.”

  “But just earlier today, you promised that you'd come out with me next time something came up.”

  “I didn't promise anything.”

  Piper stamped her foot. “Cam! C'mon! Have some fun.”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay then.” She shrugged and started to walk off. “I guess I'll be going to the club alone.”

  I chased after her and grabbed her arm. “No. You can't.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Because. Because he'll try to sleep with you, okay?”

  She snickered. “So what if he tries? You actually think I will?”

  I felt my face get hot and flustered. “Well—I dunno—maybe.”

  “Camille. I would never fuck a guy that you're so obviously into.”

  “I am not into Beau,” I huffed with outrage. Why didn't she believe me?

  “But the thought of Beau hitting on me bothers you, even though you two have never slept together and you're not interested in him at all, right?”

  “Exactly!” I knew it didn't make sense, but I didn't care. “And that's exactly why he'd do it, too. Because he knows it'd bother me. He thinks it'd be totally hilarious to fuck my business partner, to teach me a lesson about how great he is. Or something.”

  “This is hilarious. And you two sound like one hot mess together,” Piper squealed. “But I love it. This guy is already way more exciting than Matt.”

  I groaned. “Trust me. It's nothing like that.”

  “So come with me to the club. Or don't, and I'll go alone, and you'll stay at home being driven mad with paranoia.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “But I'd rather you come with me.”

  “Fine. Fine, I'll go. But only so I can protect you from him.”

  “Perfect.” Piper smiled from ear to ear. “So you're really not going to admit it?”

  “Admit what?”

  “That, just a second ago, you two were staring at each other with those furious bedroom eyes. Like you couldn't wait to tear each other out of your clothes and sink your teeth into each other and screw like animals. Just go ahead and admit it, Cam, it's not hard! Once upon a time, there was something between you guys.”

  I let out an ear-piercing laugh. “Nothing. There was nothing there. Now or ever.”

  Piper's eyes sparkled. “You know he passes the bicep-calf test, right?”

  “And yet his big, rippling biceps don't make him any less of a sleaze.”

  Chapter 4

  Gone Weak

  Beau

  Hunter and I left Camille's bakery and hailed the first cab we saw. The two of us climbed into the back and set the box of goodies between us.

  I gave the cabbie the address, and we took off for the hotel. When I relaxed into my seat, I noticed Hunter was staring at me.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “I'm surprised,” Hunter said with a chuckle. “That was really, um, …”

  Hunter trailed off.

  “What? What?” I asked, as a pulse started throbbing in my neck.

  “Weak.”

  My jaw unhinged. “Weak?”

  “You were like a puppy-dog back there. Never seen that from you.”

  I leaned away from him. “A puppy-dog? The hell are you talking about, Hunter?”

  “I've just never seen you get so flustered before. Hell, I've seen you try to start shit with six-foot-nine Zdeno Chara of all people. But a cute girl like that has got you all tongue-tied?”

  “I wasn't fucking tongue-tied at all!” I snapped back.

  “No? I thought you wanted to gloat over her about how amazing your life is and stuff. Instead, you ended up shelling out $300 for a couple boxes of cupcakes, hooked her up with tickets to the game tomorrow, and asked her out to the club tonight.” Hunter stifled a laugh. “It makes me wonder what you're going to do to get under Leroux's skin tomorrow night. Maybe you'll ask him for his autograph?”

  “Fuck off,” I snarled.

  Hunter laughed and back-handed my chest. “Take it easy, Beau. I'm just kidding you, buddy.”

  But I knew he wasn't completely kidding.

  “I'm not a completely heartless asshole, dude,” I said, pleading my case. “Me and Camille, we went to middle school together. What'd you think I was going to do? Make fun of her for trying to hack it as a small business owner?”

  “Uh, I mean, I thought that's exactly what you wanted to do. That's what you said you were going to do, wasn't it?”

  I blew a gust of air through my lips and muttered. “Shit.”

  He was right. I did fuck it up, didn't I. I clenched my fists and ground them against my knee caps. God, what the fuck would that girl think of me now?

  Suddenly, my esophagus began to tighten and no matter how much I tried to breathe, I couldn't quite get air into my lungs. My heart banged like a war-drum and, trying to stay calm, I held my palm over it.

  Fuck. Anxiety attack.

  Seems like every season I play in the NHL brings a new injury I have to battle all fucking year. This year, my ailment is the anxiety attacks. I haven't told the team doctors about yet—lord knows they'd want me to talk to somebody about it or put me on a pill.

  Hunter put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Hey bud, relax. I'm glad to see that side of you.”

  Only problem, he sounded more amused than he did enlightened.

  I brushed his hand off me angrily. “You don't get it.”

  “Apparently not.”

  I turned away from Hunter and bust out my cell phone. If I'd learned anything about anxiety attacks, it was that you just had to try to breathe normally and ignore them until they went away.

  So I fired up MeatMarket. Like I normally would.

  Remember that message I'd sent out to all those girls on MeatMarket earlier? I thumbed through my messages and took a look at all the NYC girls who'd taken the bait.

  “Umm, hello sexy. Sure, we can meet up.”

  “LOL are you always this straight forward? But yeah okay I'm down.”

  “Ur hot as hell. Tell me when and where and I'll be ur girl. All nite.”

  “THE Beau Bradford? Normally I'm a nice girl, but for you? I'll do anything you want.”

  Profile after profile of perfect 10's posing in their panties. But all I could do was look at them and grit my teeth. Usually, having some girls to look forward to got me going …

  But today, for whatever reason, MeatMarket left me feeling spoiled. Without telling those girls where to meet up, I deleted the app and angrily stuffed the phone into my pocket.

  I didn't get it.

  Wherever I went, I had girls fawning over me. Girls who didn't know a thing about me, other than I was hot and famous and made it crystal clear that I'd never truly be interested in them. But that was enough to lure them over. In fact, that was like catnip to them—they couldn't get enough.

  But then there was Camille. No matter how good at hockey I got, or how much more famous I became, or how much more money I had … none of that even mattered to her. In fact, it seemed to ma
ke her hate me more.

  I just didn't get it.

  You know what else I didn't get? Why the hell I thought she looked hot. Because I mean it, I can't stand her.

  But it's true: she looked fuckin' great. Her Facebook pics didn't even do her justice—she was even hotter in person. I could tell she'd obviously been busting her ass all day at work, but she didn't sweat so much as she glowed. One look at her flushed, rosy cheeks? All I could hear, swimming around in the back of my head, was her orgasmic panting and moaning as I licked and slurped at her juicy pussy …

  And those tits. Man. Rach had a nice pair. She had a great pair, actually, and she had 'em stuffed into a flirty, retro mini-dress that hugged the tight curves of her body. An apron went over that dress; but the apron was so tiny, it looked like it was more for show.

  Mini-dress and tiny apron—dangerous combo. I had to be careful not to get caught stealing a peek.

  Can't believe I'm actually thinking about Rach's tits, I thought to myself.

  God—was Vinny right? Would I actually grudge-fuck her if I had the chance?

  “Beau,” Hunter said. “Beau. Beau!”

  “Huh?”

  . . . to be continued!

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