Jack: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Hockey Book 2)

by Violette Paradis

  After practice, we head to the showers. As the steam fills the stall, I shower the sweat and exhaustion away, feeling fresher and more invigorated than ever. The hot water soothes my tender muscles.

  As I get dressed, Barkley taps me on the shoulder.

  “Good job out there, rookie.”

  I smirk. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, do you guys want to get a drink at A Hard Shot later?” He asks, looking around the locker room at the guys remaining. “There’s a baseball game on tonight. Would be nice to bond with the rookies.”

  We all look around at each other.

  “Come on,” he says. “It’s on Apple Tree Lane. Good atmosphere. Good wings.”

  “I’m in,” Austin says.

  “You had me at wings,” Johnny says with a toothless grin.

  “Alright. Let’s do it.” I grab my gym bag out of my locker.

  “Me too!” Logan jumps in. “I want some rookie bonding time too.”

  I try not to show how pumped I am to hang out with all these legends but this is crazy. I actually belong here with them.

  “Alright.” Barkley grabs his bag and heads out. “See you guys later then.”

  ***

  Later that night we’re hanging out at Barkley’s restaurant, A Hard Shot. Country rock accompanies the sound of people chatting and laughing. There are televisions on every wall playing the baseball game.

  I’m sitting in a booth with Connor, Johnny, Austin, Logan, and Barkley who are all trading hockey stories over spicy wings and light beer.

  Compared to everyone else in this restaurant, we’re mammoths sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. It’s impossible to miss us—Austin’s blond curls, Johnny’s big black beard, and Barkley’s long black hair. Plus, Logan is a local celebrity. It’s impossible to miss him.

  “So,” Johnny slams his hands loudly on the table. “What’s your biggest piece of advice for us rookies?”

  Logan lifts his pint. “Aside from always lifting your head to see where you’re going, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid being naked when there’s a smartphone in the room.”

  We all laugh. It’s no secret that Logan had multiple relationship issues that ended with nude photos of him ending up on the internet. The incident created quite a controversy a few years back.

  “Luckily I’m engaged,” he adds. “I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  “When’s the big wedding?” Connor asks.

  “It’ll be this December. Invitations will be sent out soon.”

  “You’re a bit young to be getting married,” I say.

  “Sure,” he says. “But Riley’s perfect for me. And it’s nice being settled.”

  “Agreed,” Connor says, lifting his glass. They toast each other and drink.

  “But you guys had your fun.” Austin is sitting back in his chair. His curly blond hair is like a poofy mop on his head while his blue-checkered button-down complements his blue eyes. He points at Logan. “You definitely had your fun.”

  Logan chuckles. “Have your fun. But be smart about it. Don’t do anything that’ll make you end up on the cover of a gossip magazine.”

  Throughout the night several people approach the table and ask Logan, Connor, and Barkley for selfies and autographs. Only one person asks for photos with the rookies, which I happily oblige. Although embarrassed at first, I can’t help but feel a bit proud of how far I’ve come. All those things I sacrificed for this—my last year of high school, my senior prom, my only serious relationship—giving it all up was worth it for this right here.

  When our beers are almost drained and there’s nothing but chicken bones on our plates, the waitress brings the check. We all reach for our wallets. Connor looks up at me.

  “I thought you were having money troubles,” he says.

  “They’re not money troubles,” I push back. “I just haven’t been paid yet. Have you?”

  I look at Austin. He shakes his head.

  “It’s fine,” Logan says. “I’ve got this. My treat.”

  “No way, man.” We all protest but he puts his hand up.

  “We’re a team now, so this is my gift to you guys. But enjoy it because this is the only time I’ll ever do this.”

  We chuckle and thank him as we shuffle out of the booth. I grab one of the mints that came with the bill and pop it into my mouth.

  The mention of money troubles brings my mind to Jemma. I never responded to her voice-mail and a slight feeling of guilt settles in my stomach. I check my phone—it’s past eleven o’clock. Way too late to call her now. I’ll send a text instead.

  Following the guys out of the restaurant, we make our way east down Apple Tree Lane.

  The guys are talking about plays made at that morning’s practice as I walk behind the pack, thinking about what to send to Jemma.

  As we get closer to her yoga studio, I can’t help but look over at it. Maybe if I see her in there, I can talk to her in person. But as we pass it, I notice the light is off. No surprise. I don’t expect anyone to be doing yoga this late.

  “Jack?” A familiar female voice asks.

  I turn around. Jemma is in a long flowing olive green skirt and a black spaghetti-strap tank top. She’s standing with two other women in front of a new age coffee shop called Sun and Moon Terrace.

  She comes rushing over to me, her long skirt billowing behind her.

  “Oh, hey.” I scratch the back of my head.

  The guys turn around to see what the commotion is. I give them a sorry look. This isn’t going to be pretty.

  “What the hell?” She asks. “Why aren’t you responding to my message? And where’s my money?”

  “I was just about to get back to you.” I hold up my phone.

  She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Right. And I should believe you because…?”

  “I swear,” I say. “I don’t get paid for another few days. Once I do, I’ll give you the money.”

  “He’s right,” Johnny chips in. “I haven’t gotten paid either. This is our first week on the job.”

  I turn back to him. “I appreciate it, Johnny, but I can handle this.”

  He steps back. I face Jemma again.

  “Can you?” She asks. “Can you handle this? Really?”

  “Trust me, if I had the money, I’d give it to you as soon as possible if it meant not having to deal with this situation right now.”

  “Is everything alright here?” Logan steps in.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” I say.

  Ignoring me, he stays and speaks to Jemma. “Listen, for what it’s worth, I can vouch for this guy. He’s an honest, trustworthy guy.”

  Jemma looks up at him and narrows her gaze. “Who the hell are you?”

  He seems shocked. “Logan Drake.”

  She shakes her head. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

  “Oh… Um… People usually do.”

  “Well I don’t, so why should I care about your opinion?” She puts a hand on her hip.

  Logan looks at me with a confused expression. I suppress a smile and give him a sorry shrug.

  “I’m tapping out,” he says. “You’re on your own, buddy.” He slaps me on the shoulder and re-joins the other guys.

  Jemma looks at me. “I’ll be waiting for my money.”

  She pulls away. Her long skirt twists around her flat sandals as she walks.

  “Hold on,” I tell the guys. “Wait!” I rush after her.

  Her girlfriends—a petite blond and a brunette with her hair in two long braids—look up at me with judgmental eyes. I expect nothing less from Jemma’s clique.

  “This better be good,” Jemma says.

  “Can we have some privacy?” I gesture to a spot near some benches and a tree where the others can’t hear us.

  She steps aside with me, away from our prying friends. She looks up at me with her big doe eyes. Her dark eyelashes are so long that they brush against her skin as she blinks. She smells like spices, cinnamon.

 
“I really meant to call you,” I say in a soft voice. “I don’t get paid probably until Wednesday. This is my first week on the job. You have to give me a bit of credit.”

  “Why didn’t you respond to my message?” She asks. There’s a quiet desperation in her eyes that gently breaks my heart a bit.

  “I just listened to your message this morning and I meant to call after hockey practice but I was busy.”

  She raises her eyebrows and looks over my shoulder at the guys standing in a group nearby.

  “It’s team-building,” I say.

  “If you’re lying to me again—”

  “I’m not lying! When have I ever lied to you?”

  She watches me suspiciously. We have a staredown right there in the middle of Apple Tree Lane.

  “I’ll get you your money within a week. I promise.”

  She pulls her big beautiful eyes away and crosses her arms. I watch her for a moment, admiring her sad beauty. I can tell she really needs the money. Guilt churns in my gut.

  “Fine,” she says, looking back up at me. “Within a week.”

  “I won’t let you down.”

  Without saying anything else, she pulls away, taking her delicious spicy scent with her. Rejoining her friends, she disappears into Sun and Moon Terrace.

  I let out a heavy sigh and run my hands through my unruly hair. Taking a moment to get myself together, I turn around and rejoin the rest of the guys where I know I’ll get a good ribbing.

  “Dude.” Logan laughs. “Barely a week and you’re already pissing off the women of Seattle.”

  “I work quick, I guess,” I mumble. I look back at Sun and Moon Terrace.

  “Come on. Let’s get back to the car,” Connor says.

  As the guys start to walk down the cobblestone road, my eyes are still on the restaurant.

  “Actually, you know what?” I get the guys’ attention. “I just have some unfinished business. I’ll make my own way home if you don’t mind.”

  Connor nods. “I’ll leave the porch light on for you.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Logan calls out.

  I wave at them before doubling back and making my way into Sun and Moon Terrace.

  The first thing that hits me when I enter the coffee shop is the smell. The lazy scent of coffee, incense, and marijuana lingers thick in the air. The speakers are playing a soft indie rock song where an angel-voiced woman is singing about the sun and stars.

  This is definitely not the type of place I’d ever frequent. There are all sorts of hippie-dippie things on the walls—suns, moons, stars, beads, that kind of stuff. The place is filled with lady hipsters, crunchy granola types, and guys with man-buns.

  I look around for Jemma but I don’t see her. However, I do spot Jemma’s girlfriends at a round table near the window. I make my way over to them.

  “Hey,” I say.

  They both look up at me as if completely caught off-guard by my presence.

  “Oh,” the petite blonde says in her thick southern accent. “Hello.”

  She smiles and bats her eyelashes a few times at me.

  “I’m Madison,” she says.

  “My name’s Jack,” I say.

  “We know,” the brunette with the braids says. She smiles flirtatiously. “I’m Naomi.”

  “Nice to meet you. Do you ladies know where Jemma is?”

  Naomi narrows her gaze. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been disrupting our poor girl.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “She’s been talking about me?”

  “Um, no,” Naomi lies as she looks away.

  I can’t ignore Madison’s epic eyebrow raise.

  Hmm. Maybe Jemma talks about me more than I thought. After all, it only makes sense. Of course she’d be thinking about me. I put that curse on her and she’s crazy enough to believe it.

  Or maybe she’s just really mad about the money. Even more reason to find her.

  “Two mint-infused bourbon cappuccinos with orange foam. Just what the doctor ordered!” The waiter places the drinks on the table. He has a man-bun, just like every other guy in here besides me.

  The waiter looks at me.

  “You want anything?” He asks in an overly friendly voice. “Obviously, we’ve got a great mint-infused bourbon cappuccino, as these ladies know. And of course, we have our signature gluten-free rum iced-coffee with a kale garnish. You can add a dollop of orange or avocado foam to any drink for an extra dollar!”

  “Umm.” I pause to process what I just heard. “Do you have any light beer?”

  “Ooh, no.” He shakes his head, giving me a pained expression of equal parts pity and sympathy. “This isn’t that kind of place.”

  “I figured. Let me think about it and I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

  “Don’t you hesitate!” He disappears.

  I look back at Madison and Naomi.

  “Why is it just you two?” I ask. “Where did Jemma go?”

  The two women look at each other and instantly start whispering to one another.

  “I think we should tell him—”

  “We shouldn’t interrupt her though—”

  “Ladies?” I clear my voice. They both look up at me. “I’m not here to disrupt her, as you said. I just want to apologize to her and put her bill on my credit card tonight. That’s all. It’s just a token of goodwill from me to her.”

  The women look at each other again.

  “Alright,” Madison says. “We’ll tell you.”

  “She’s with Madame Lacroix,” Naomi adds.

  “Madame Lacroix?” I furrow my brow.

  Naomi lifts her chin, gesturing toward the dark corner of the small cafe. There’s a table hidden behind a beaded curtain. Squinting my eyes, I see two women seated beyond the beads. I recognize Jemma’s wavy sun-kissed hair and olive green skirt.

  “Thanks,” I say as I pull away from the table and maneuver my way to her.

  JEMMA

  Sitting in a private corner of the restaurant at a table hidden by beaded curtains, I’m looking across the table at the legendary Madame Lacroix. She has frizzy red hair contained by a sparkly purple scarf. Her curious green eyes are lined with black kohl liner and a few wrinkles of wisdom. Her bejeweled hands are splayed out on the table showing off her pointed red nails. I can’t tell if she’s in her forties or her sixties. I can’t quite place her. Nor should I. She’s the legendary Madame Lacroix.

  “So,” she says in her thick French accent which makes her S’s and Th’s sound like Z’s. “I can feel that you are in a desperate situation.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Everything’s changed since I last saw you. Remember our last session? I got the Tower.”

  Madame Lacroix nods.

  “Oui, I remember,” she says as she strikes a match and produces a bright orange flame. Lighting a candle, she sets it to the side of the table, allowing it to illuminate both our faces. “The tower is the crumbling of old systems and the complete upheaval of your life. I’m assuming it has happened.”

  I give a small nod.

  She leans in. The candle’s flame casts ominous shadows over her face as it burns brightly in her eyes. “How was it?”

  I shake my head. “Not good. My boyfriend broke up with me and now I’m behind on my rent. Oh god, I hope I don’t get evicted!”

  She’s nodding, her curious eyes watching me carefully. “Mmhmm, mmhmm. And something else is bugging you.”

  Madame Lacroix’s legendary ability to read people always amazes me.

  I look away. “I met another guy.”

  “And you like him,” she says. She doesn’t even ask it as a question.

  “No,” I say defensively. “He took one of my classes and now he owes me money. And he’s being a dick about it.”

  “Hmm.” She grabs her deck of tarot cards and starts shuffling as she stares at me with her penetrating eyes.

  Feeling exposed, I look away, finding myself temporarily transfixed on her shiny rings and point
y red nails.

  I definitely don’t like Jack, nor do I hate him. I mean, he was good in bed. But by no means do I like him. He’s been nothing but annoying since the morning after we hooked up.

  “You do,” Madame Lacroix says. A slow smile spreads across her face. “You like him.”

  My mouth falls open. “What? Why would you think that?”

  “The cards aren’t falling out.” She smiles as she looks down at the cards which she’s still shuffling. “That’s because they don’t have to tell me anything right now. I can read it all on your face.”

  Feeling betrayed by my own emotions, I touch my warm cheeks.

  “Oh god.” I breathe out the tension. “I didn’t even come here to talk about him. I wanted to talk about my career and my financial situation. Can we ask the cards about that?”

  The beaded curtain makes a loud clattering sound behind me. I don’t even turn around. I’m used to waiters and waitresses rushing by and bumping noisily into the curtain, especially on busy nights. But this time I feel a strange shadow fall over the table. Madame Lacroix looks up and smiles.

  “Hello,” Madame Lacroix says. “Can we help you?”

  “I’m here to talk to Jemma,” a deep masculine voice says.

  That familiar voice causes me to whip around. There’s Jack looking deliciously handsome in his black t-shirt and blue jeans.

  Oh boy. How strong was that rum iced-coffee?

  “Jack! What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t want to intrude.” He looks at me, then at Madame Lacroix.

  Madame Lacroix looks at me as if I determine what’s an intrusion or not.

  “I just really want to pay for your meal tonight,” he says. “Or I guess… whatever you’re doing here.” He looks at the cards in Madame Lacroix’s hands.

  “You want to pay for my tarot reading?” I ask.

  He nods. “Just as an offer of goodwill, you know? I don’t have cash but I can pay for it on credit. It’s the least I can do while I wait for my paycheck.”

  I’m about to speak when Madame Lacroix makes a noise.

  “Oop!” She’s looking down at something on the table. We all follow her gaze.

  There’s a card facing up showing a handsome young man wearing armor as he sits on a black horse. He’s holding a large golden coin, holding it out in front of him as if he’s giving it away.