Broken (Breakers Hockey Book 1)

by Elise Faber

  What was she going to do? Start dating again? Get on Tinder and start swiping?

  God, just the thought of having to meet men on an app or needing to make small talk in a bar or coffee shop or the grocery store . . . hell.

  That seemed like hell.

  But an even deeper circle of hell?

  Remaining married to the asshole who’d cheated on her with three—at least, because there was always a distinct possibility that there more—women.

  That wasn’t even an option.

  So . . . she picked up a pen and scrawled her name on the line.

  Then paused, the tip of the ballpoint hovering a couple of millimeters off the paper, and waited.

  For what, she didn’t quite understand.

  It seemed so anticlimactic. Streamers should burst forth from the ceiling, fireworks should explode over the harbor in the distance. A band should blare to life playing a jaunty tune to signify this huge moment.

  But nothing happened, even as she waited a little longer. The only noise was her breathing, the click of the pen as she placed it on the desk, the soft rumble of voices in the hall. Perhaps she’d expected for depression to swell up and swallow her whole, to drag her into a whole new swell of emotions.

  Instead, she just felt . . . resigned.

  It was over.

  Sighing, she tucked the papers back into the envelope and swiveled toward the window, staring out at the surrounding buildings, the blue sky with puffs of cotton-like clouds.

  No fireworks.

  Just another phase of life down.

  One tick through a box she’d never wanted.

  Divorcee.

  She stood, reached for her purse. It was early, but suddenly she needed to get out of here, away from the steel and glass, away from the papers. Away . . . from everything.

  After she strode to the door, her fingers were on the knob when it turned in her hand.

  It pushed in toward her, making her skitter back a step.

  Luc’s head popped in.

  Her heart squeezed when he took one look at her face and came fully in, closed the distance between them, and wrapped her in his arms.

  He’d hugged her countless times over these last six months.

  She’d sobbed against his strong chest, soaked more than a handful of his T-shirts, slept in his bedroom while he’d—against her arguments—taken the guest space.

  They’d spent a lot of time together, her and her best friend.

  So it was no surprise he was here.

  No surprise that he’d known in an instant what was up.

  And that strong, broad chest was her strength, those solid arms her support. Only today she didn’t cry, didn’t melt into him, didn’t dissolve. Today felt like she could maybe stand on her own feet. She thought that . . . maybe she would be okay.

  She stepped back, and his green eyes came to hers.

  Assessing.

  Then approval drifted across his face. “You signed.”

  She nodded toward the desk, toward the envelope she hadn’t been able to stomach taking with her just moments before. Now, with Luc here, with the pride on his face, she found that she wanted that envelope gone, wanted the papers out of her sight.

  She wanted to be done.

  So fucking done.

  Four more steps brought her back to her desk, one reach had her fingers grasping the envelope and then rotating to face Luc again.

  He stood patiently by the door. So damned patiently. She’d never seen him lose his cool, not at work, not at home. He was always even and cool. He was always kind, understanding, even when she’d been so wrapped up in grief and hurt that she’d treated him abhorrently. Not a pushover, not in the least, but considerate and empathetic.

  “Come on,” he said when she neared the door again.

  “Where?” she asked.

  His mouth curved. “To celebrate.”

  “With party hats?”

  He chuckled. “I do have the rest of the set. Want to match?” He pretended to zhoosh his hair. “I think pink sparkles in particular will bring out the green of my eyes.”

  Lexi found herself laughing, even as she shook her head. “I think the gold one would serve you better.”

  “Done,” he said, tilting his head. “Let’s go.”

  She trailed him down the hallway where the law offices were located in the Breakers’ facility. They had a small legal staff for the team, just one other associate counsel, a couple of interns, and a clerk, but she hoped to be promoted to head counsel in the next few seasons. Her boss, Todd, had certainly been grooming her for the position. For the moment, though, she was happy with her role as associate counsel. Sports law was interesting and intricate, and it kept her on her toes.

  Pairing that with some pro bono work for a local charity that offered free legal advice out of the local library, and her professional life was full.

  She waited until the coast was clear before asking, “Celebrate where?”

  “I have some plans,” he said lightly.

  Her brows lifted.

  “I’ve been considering this for a while.”

  “Oh?”

  He bumped her shoulder. “Yes, oh.”

  She grinned. “You’re too good to me.”

  “I’d do anything for my best friend,” he said, and, no, that wasn’t a blip of disappointment sliding through her. That was . . . happiness. Right, happiness that this man cared for her, that he’d been the greatest freaking best friend in the world.

  Friend.

  Friend.

  She was really starting to hate that fucking word.

  But . . . to use her least favorite cliché in all the world, it was what it was, and she was lucky enough to have him in her life.

  “No,” he said when they’d reached the parking lot and she turned in the direction of her sedan, “leave your car here. I’ll drive you back in the morning.” His smile was full of mischief. “You won’t be in any shape to get behind the wheel,” he said when she lifted her brows in question.

  “Why?” she asked. “Because we’re getting drunk?”

  He tapped her on the nose. “Because you’re getting drunk. I’m having three beers, max.”

  “Spoilsport,” she teased.

  “Someone’s got to drive my drunk BFF home.”

  Her mouth curled up at the corners. There was something that was ridiculously funny about hearing big, burly Luc say BFF. “It’s Tuesday,” she said. “I’m not getting drunk on a Tuesday.”

  Now it was his turn to lift his brows.

  But he didn’t comment, just snagged the envelope from her fingers, opened the door with a flourish, and said, “We’re dropping this off on the way.”

  She could kiss the man.

  She couldn’t, of course.

  But maybe . . . kinda sorta . . . in a totally inappropriate way, she . . . really wanted to.

  She sat down in his car.

  The door closed.

  At exactly the same time, the steel-plated one in the back of her mind, from which that dangerous thought in her brain had emerged, slammed closed.

  And not a second too soon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luc

  She was beautiful.

  Too fucking beautiful for the men who were staring at her as they walked down the sidewalk, her heels clacking on the cobblestones as they strode through one of her favorite parts of the city.

  Fell’s Point was all bright buildings and ancient streets, restaurants and bars and shops. If they moved beyond the cafés, past the temptation of the yummy smells in the air and made it down to the waterfront, they could take a water taxi, cuddle together in the cool evening air, and watch the bright lights drift by.

  But that was something to do on a date.

  Not something that best friends did.

  So instead, he just stayed close as she perused the menus out front of each restaurant, bending at the waist and lifting the hem of her dress to levels that had his cock twitchi
ng. If she remained true to course, she’d read every single menu on the block before deciding on a place.

  Which was fine with him, since he got to enjoy the view.

  Pervert? Probably.

  Inadvisable? Also, probably.

  But though he tried to not stare, he found his gaze drifting back to her ass, over and over again. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but he couldn’t stop himself.

  Soon. Soon, he kept promising himself.

  But sooner or later his control was going to snap, and he could only hope that Lexi was ready for it.

  After they’d dropped the papers off at her attorney’s office, Lexi had insisted on going back to her place to change, and he’d waited in her tiny living room, the space crammed with every potted plant that had been in her old house. They were doing as well in her apartment as they’d done in her previous home, filling the room with lush greenery and brightly colored flowers.

  None of which had held a candle to her when she’d appeared out of her bedroom, her shining brown hair cascading down around her shoulders, her curvy body encased in a sinful black dress. Breasts and hips, legs and ass. He’d been absolutely starstruck, his cock hard in an instant, the urge to grab her, to pick her up and haul her back into the bedroom intense and almost overwhelming.

  She’d worn a pair of strappy heels he’d never seen before, thin bands of leather crisscrossing up her calves, stopping just below her knees. He’d wanted to trace the lines, to allow his fingers to disappear under the short hem that danced around the middle of her thighs. Creamy skin, legs he’d been desperate to get in between from the moment he’d first seen them, and her breasts. Fuck, they were on display and calling for his mouth . . .

  He’d turned away, focused on a plant with bright purple flowers.

  Thank God she’d gone into the hall, gathering a shawl-sweater thing, covering up enough of her cleavage that the haze of his desire cleared, and he’d been able to shove the urge away, to grab her purse from the coffee table and bring it over to her.

  Now they were here standing on the sidewalk, the cool drift of the evening breeze lifting the ends of her brown hair, blowing it forward and around her face, even as she wrestled it back, straightening from the menu placard she was reading, giving a small shake of her head, and then moving to the next restaurant and the next.

  So much bending, so much skirt lifting, so much of his gaze heavy on her body, fueling his desire until it was a fiery thing, no matter how hard he tried to extinguish it.

  Then they’d reached the end of the street, and she was straightening from the final menu, a chagrined expression on her face.

  “The first one, is it?” he asked, need tempered by amusement.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Is that okay?”

  As if he’d ever deny this woman anything, least of all a meal in a restaurant of her choosing. Which was why he took her hand and led her down the cobblestones back to that first restaurant, the one he’d known from looking over her shoulder at the menu that she would choose.

  Because . . . chocolate cake.

  Because . . . champagne.

  Because aside from her love of plants, those two things were her kryptonite.

  Paired with homemade pasta and Cesar salads, and he’d known they would end up at this Italian restaurant.

  Her heels clacked on the sidewalk as they meandered back, her shoulder brushing his, her soft, floral scent drifting up to his nose. People moved all around them, weaving and talking, their conversations loud and filled with laughter, but he didn’t give them more than a sliver of his attention, because it was all about Lexi.

  He held the door for her as they made their way inside, forced himself to tear his gaze from her face, her body when they were seated. Ordered some pasta dish and salad he didn’t give two shits about.

  They were here.

  She was smiling.

  “Oh,” he said as the waiter started to turn away. “Can you bring a bottle of champagne? And our desserts first?”

  Lexi’s brows rose.

  He shrugged. “We’re celebrating.”

  Her smile grew, his heart pulsed, and yeah, he knew that he’d do absolutely anything for her. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Yeah, we are.”

  Maybe starting with champagne hadn’t been the best idea.

  Because one bottle had turned into two, and by the time Lexi had devoured her pasta, her color had been high, her eyes slightly glazed, and she’d been well on the opposite end of tipsy.

  But she was happy.

  So fucking happy and talkative, her plans for the house she was going to buy once her old one sold rolling off her tongue, plant names interspersing with paint colors and furniture styles.

  “And then,” she said, her fork waving through the air, “I’m going to go lingerie shopping, because I burned every piece of underwear I bought for that fucker, and now I’m stuck with boring cotton panties, and no man is going to want to fuck me in gross, granny panties.”

  “Any man who’s worth his weight doesn’t give a shit about the underwear on his woman.”

  Her lips turned up. “As long as it’s clean?”

  Laughter bubbled in his chest. “Clean would be preferred.”

  Preferred, but not required. Not with this woman. Which probably made him sound fucking gross, but whatever. He was already in love with Lexi, so he wasn’t going to pretend.

  At least in his head.

  In the real world, after she’d had her heart shattered, he had definitely been pretending. To be the best friend and nothing more, until she wasn’t so vulnerable.

  That time was coming soon. They inched closer to it every day, every moment, until he could almost taste it on the air.

  And then he’d strike.

  Like a fucking cobra.

  More laughter, this time escaping because of his own idiotic thoughts, but luckily it blended in with Lexi’s, with her amusement over the underwear conversation.

  Then he was paying, despite her argument to the contrary, and then standing up, leaving the restaurant. She took his hand, guiding him a block over toward the noise and music he could hear spilling out on the sidewalk. A bouncer stood by the door, but he took one look at Lexi and immediately let them in, and given the huge smile, the complete and utter joy that was emanating from her, Luc didn’t blame the other man’s gaze for lingering, not one bit.

  He still wanted to punch the fucker for looking at her body, though.

  “I need a drink!” Lexi said, lacing her fingers with his and towing him to the bar.

  “You sure?” he asked.

  Her eyes met his, a tendril of sad in her golden-brown eyes. “I want to get drunk,” she declared. “Really, really drunk.” She squeezed his hand. “So drunk that I don’t remember. So drunk that this night wipes away all of the nights before. And then I want to dance until they kick us out, until the moon is high, and tomorrow becomes the first day of the rest of my life, and it’s going to be fucking great!”

  Heart thudding, he slid to a stop, his insides in a blender, shredded by her hurt, and yet somehow whole because she was so fucking strong.

  Because despite everything, she had hope and wanted to move forward.

  Fuck, he loved her.

  Fuck, he loved her enough to be here, to give her the strength and support to grasp on to that hope, to ensure that this light inside her, the one that had finally reappeared after six long months, never went out. He’d be her kindling and her flame. He’d been her shield from the rest of the world, hands cupped around the tiny sparks just beginning to burn again.

  “What are you drinking?” he asked, starting to walk again.

  More light, more bright, more life bubbling up through her and filling the space around them.

  “Vodka cran,” she said.

  “You mean a Cosmo?” he teased.

  “Nah.” A squeeze of his fingers. “That’s too fancy. I just want a lot of vodka with a dash of cranberry.”

  His mouth turned u
p. “Done.”

  He made a mental note to call Todd before the night was up, telling him she’d be taking the next day off. Then he slid an arm around her waist, hauled her close, and set about turning tipsy into drunk.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lexi

  She was floating.

  Or maybe less floating and more slicing through the sky, a turkey vulture riding the heat of the morning air, circling higher and higher until she reached the top and sailed down.

  Then again, circling once more, the heat under her wings lifting her higher.

  Until she was soaring, the music pulsing around her, filling her up.

  Warm arms surrounded her, a spicy male scent her body identified as safe, as wonderful, as Luc creating the perfect little bubble around them as they danced and danced.

  Her feet were well beyond aching in her heels. The alcohol had blunted the initial discomfort, and now she’d danced them into numbness.

  It was glorious.

  So fucking glorious.

  She felt alive again, the bass thrumming through her veins, sweat sheening her body. Luc had her shawl and her purse tucked under his arm, and it should have looked ridiculous, the big burly man holding her glittery bag, but it was . . . right.

  Everything was right when she was with Luc.

  The music slowed, and she found her body drifting closer to Luc’s. He was so much taller than her, having several inches on her, even though she was wearing her tallest heels. Strong and warm and smelling so damned good.

  “Should we get another drink?” he asked, smoothing her hair back from her face.

  “No.” She wound her arms around his waist, rested her head against his chest. “I want to keep dancing.” Her hips jutted forward, pressing their bodies together as they slowly circled.

  He inhaled sharply, a sound she couldn’t hear over the music, but one she felt against her chest.

  But that wasn’t all she felt.

  Because he was . . . hard.

  Now, it was her turn to inhale sharply, a bolt of desire arrowing through her insides. His cock was granite and thrusting against her stomach, and God, it had been so long since she’d had an orgasm.