Defending the Reaper: A Standalone Steamy Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 5)

by G. K. Brady

  “Great! I’m great,” she announced a little too cheerfully.

  “Okay,” Finn laughed. “As long as you’re great! Seriously, El, you look like you’re having fun, and that’s really good to see.”

  She took another sip of her V and T. It was almost empty. No doubt the alcohol she’d consumed had something to do with the great time she was having, but she suspected it was more than that. The good-looking hockey captain cowboy in front of her might be playing a part. No, absolutely was playing a part. A quick look around the place told her she wasn’t the only one admiring him. In fact, right after he escorted the first lady off the dance floor, a younger, prettier one asked him to dance with her, and he obliged. And sheesh, this one could actually dance. I wonder if I’ll get him back sometime tonight?

  Not a moment later, it seemed, he was there, eyebrow cocked and hand extended toward her in invitation. Oh no! If getting him back meant having to dance … She rose up on tiptoe and pretended to look over his shoulder. “I think I see someone else who’d like to dance with you.”

  He shook his head. “Too bad. I’m not dancing with her.”

  In Ellie’s peripheral vision, Finn let Sonoma lead him off—hell, he practically ran after her—so Ellie gulped a breath, set her drink down, and took Dave’s hand. Oh God! Here we go.

  “Do what I do,” he instructed.

  “Not what your uncle says to do?”

  “Listen to him in the background to get a feel for the steps, but until you know what those are, follow my lead.”

  Right. And try not to stomp on his feet, El. Dave led her toward three other couples who were forming into a square. When he squeezed her hand and grinned down at her, some of her nervousness dissolved away, replaced by a different sort of tummy flutter.

  The first move wasn’t so bad because they merely walked around the invisible square, him guiding her with one hand around her waist and the other holding her hand. Easy peasy. Not to mention it felt really good. But then things sped up, and there was a moment when he was pulling her past him—or trying to—and rather than sliding to his side, she crashed right into him, and yes—oh God!—managed to step on his foot. He laughed, and on the next pull by manhandled her so she had no doubt which way she was supposed to go. Ooh, she liked that! But then he handed her off to a different partner, and oh God! She did it again. In fact, she ended up turning in a circle and somehow backing into the guy. And stepping on his foot.

  The man cradled her lightly in his arms for a split second before setting her straight with a chuckle. “Your first time?” he asked as he promenaded her.

  “It’s obvious, huh?”

  “We’ve all been there. Just relax and enjoy yourself. No one’s judging you. In fact, look around. This is the first time for plenty of people here.” Same thing Dave keeps telling me. With that, the man handed her off to the next one. This time she heard Stan sing something about a “right pull by,” and the man’s right hand grasped her right hand as he pulled her past to her next dance partner. Oh! Got it. Except this guy was almost as inexperienced as she was, and they ended up flubbing whatever the next part was supposed to be and bumping into each other. She didn’t step on him, though, so … progress!

  “And here I was counting on you to show me what to do,” he said with a smile. She fizzed with laughter, and before she knew it, she was beside Dave again. Thank God! A moment of reprieve while the couples faced each other in the square, and she darted a look to Finn in the next square. He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. Oh, shut up!

  “You’re doing great,” Dave reassured her right before they launched into the next steps. She stepped on his foot again, causing her to stumble and land against his hard chest. Without missing a beat, he propped her up and propelled her to where she was supposed to be. “I think you did that on purpose.” His whisper was low, but she could hear the smile in it. Before she could protest, he was handing her off to someone else. Soon she was hurtling toward him again, and he gave her the universal V sign with his middle and index fingers, pointing at her eyes first, then at his. “Eyes up here.” Then his arm was back around her waist, her hand nestled in his. “You’re getting the hang of it. You didn’t step on me that time.”

  Before she knew it, she was twirling and pulling by and nailing courtesy turns and ladies’ chains without getting her two feet tangled with anyone else’s. Self-consciousness flitted away, cut loose, and she let herself go, utterly lost in the joy and the music and the fun. And the best part? Feeling Dave’s big hand on her waist, or grabbing his iron-muscled forearm, or resting her hand on his impossibly square shoulder. He was all hard, hot man, and the woman in her—the one she thought she’d lost—sparked to life.

  By the time they’d run through more dances, her sides ached from laughing, her cheeks from smiling, and her lungs from the workout. Tingles raced through her bloodstream. Was this foreplay? Every time Dave’s eyes landed on hers, she could almost believe it was. And that hip flexing action? She tried not to look, she really did. Tried not to notice how sure and fluid his movements were because they made her more hot and bothered than the dancing did.

  Stan announced the band was taking a short break and put on some recorded music for a line dance. What the hell was a line dance? Before she could ask—or bolt—she was next to Dave in a row of people that included Finn and Sonoma on her other side while “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” blared through the speakers. And oh my God! It took her more than halfway through the song to get the sequence of the steps, but she didn’t care because … it was a blast! When Alan Jackson’s “Good Time” came on, Dave cocked her an eyebrow, and she let him know in no uncertain terms she was staying on the dance floor. He shrugged, dropped his hat on her head, and gave her a face-splitting grin that shot more shivers straight to her toes. She grabbed the brim with both hands and watched his moves unabashedly while falling in line.

  Another song, and Stan was back. Ellie excused herself to find the little cowgirls’ room, grabbing her jean jacket on her way out of the barn. With her business out of the way and after she’d slicked on a little more gloss, she wobbled back toward the barn along a dimly lit path in the crisp night air. A warm hand closed around her arm, and she turned, all kinds of happy when she realized the hand belonged to Dave.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Just keeping an eye on you.” His mouth curved up, and the look in those intense eyes of his … A series of shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature raced from her toes to her crown.

  “Cold? We can go inside or head back to the house,” he offered.

  “No, I’m good. Maybe if we walked for a minute …” Lordy, her head started a sudden spin she hoped would stop with some fresh air.

  Dave swept his hand in front of him in an “after-you” gesture, and they angled onto a pavestone path illuminated by landscape fixtures made of hammered bronze. Her uneven steps had her walking right into him and bouncing off.

  He put an arm around her shoulders and steadied her. “Still trying to stomp on my toes?”

  “Sorry. Just lost my balance for a sec.”

  He kept that wonderfully warm, strong arm on her shoulders and guided her to a clump of leafless trees beside a chiminea glowing with gentle flames. She held her hands out to warm them.

  “So what do you think of square dancing now?” he asked.

  “I love it!” She paused when a warm chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Maybe that’s because I’m dancing with a real cowboy.”

  “I’m no cowboy.” He flicked the brim of the hat she’d forgotten she was wearing.

  She arched a brow. “No? Maybe a cowboy without the cow, then.”

  He let a laugh slip out. “Which would make me a boy.”

  “No! That’s not what I meant.” Hopefully, he couldn’t see the blazing blush speeding across her face.

  The timbre of his voice dropped into husky-and-deep territory. “Then what did you mean?” The firelight lit his face enough
that the gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. He was enjoying making her squirm. For some unfathomable reason, her mind leapt to him all hot and sweaty during the after-game interview. From there, it bounded to him making her squirm in a wholly inappropriate way.

  “I meant, um … Actually, I’m not sure what I meant, but you’re the farthest thing from a boy I’ve ever seen.” Ellie, you dork! God, she must have been the darkest shade of boiled lobster by now.

  He stared at her a moment, the humor in his expression replaced by something altogether different. The odd notion that she was the puck and he was skating right at her crossed her muddled mind, and her heart did a quiver-bump thing. So many images flooded her brain at once.

  He jarred her from her ridiculous thoughts by adjusting the hat. “Better,” he said softly. “Although without the hat …” He whisked it off her head and plopped it on his, then smoothed her hair and tucked a few strands behind her ear. She closed her eyes, relishing the brush of his warm fingers. Unexpected chills cascaded down her neck and spine, spilling over her shoulders and arms. Somehow, her hand was in his, and when her eyelids fluttered open, he was there, eyes locked on hers, his lips one warm breath away.

  His gaze dipped to her mouth. Then he cupped her head and whispered, “Ellie,” right before his lips landed on hers, gentle, warm, a slow yet determined slide.

  Her hands glided up his chest, skimming over the hard planes beneath his shirt before she fisted the fabric, rose on tiptoe, and pulled herself closer. The hand at the back of her head tangled in her hair while his other hand released hers and coasted over her waist to the small of her back. His fingers splayed wide, leaving a heat print through the thin fabric of her dress.

  He pulled back, a little breathless. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

  Dazed though she was, she couldn’t mask her incredulity as she stared up at him. “You have?”

  He didn’t answer—not with words anyway. His lips quirked in a half-smile before they were back on hers with a softness she could sink into. A nudge against her lips, and she opened for him, welcoming his languid exploration of her mouth as he held her, practically cradling her body to his. Like his dancing, every careful caress of his tongue and hands was measured, fluid, thorough. And mind-meltingly sensual. She’d never been kissed like this before—as if he were mapping her mouth, making love to it—and heat pooled deep inside her like a magma lake threatening to expand and overflow.

  She fought the urge to climb him, instead snaking her hands to his shoulders, up the back of his neck, until her fingers found purchase in his soft, silky hair. His hold on her tightened, and a humming growl came from deep in his throat. She was engulfed in his warmth, in his smoky whiskey taste, and his woods-and-spice man scent. Her knees turned watery, and she vaguely wondered if they would give out, sending her slithering down the length of his body.

  “Dave? You out here?”

  Untangling his mouth from hers, he let out a sigh and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. As he pivoted away, he swore under his breath. “Over here, Nome.”

  Oh God, had Sonoma seen them? No, because she was peering into the darkness. “Oh! There you are.” Then she called over her shoulder, “Finn, they’re over here,” and Finn loped out of the shadows.

  Ellie whooshed out a silent breath as disappointment settled on her shoulders. Telling herself Sonoma’s appearance was probably for the best because … that smokin’ hot kiss! How on earth would Ellie ever cool down and fall asleep tonight?

  Sonoma had the worst fucking timing. Or maybe the best. Dave knew better than to do what he’d just done, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Especially after Ellie told him he was the farthest thing from a boy she’d ever seen in that shy-sexy voice she occasionally let loose—the one that turned his brain to melted butter and pulled his insides out. The thought she’d meant he was more Wookiee than human had streaked through his brain, but he’d opted for a more flattering interpretation and run with it. Then he’d pulled his hat off her head. Between the tousled strawberry waves that had him wondering if that’s what she looked like in bed and those great big blue eyes staring up at him, it had been game over. Electricity had rocketed through him, and he couldn’t resist a taste of that full, moist mouth he’d been looking at and thinking about all night. Just one taste. One nibble. One.

  Yeah, good thing Sonoma showed up when she did.

  “We’ve been looking all over for you guys,” Sonoma exclaimed as she joined them beside the chiminea.

  “We were inspecting the chiminea.” Ellie grinned up at him, and damn if he didn’t grin right back like his idiotic lovestruck teammates.

  One of Sonoma’s burgundy eyebrows arched. Now Finn joined them, his eyes bouncing between him and Sonoma. Sonoma glanced at Finn before she plowed ahead. “So here’s the thing. Remember those unexpected relatives Uncle Stan mentioned? Well, the hosts finally found them some rooms.” She sucked in a breath. “Yours and mine.”

  Dave shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

  “They moved you out of your room and me out of mine and gave them to a great-grandma and a couple of Aunt Ednas.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “I guess the host thought we could either bunk together or drive home.”

  Well, shit. “I’ve had too much to drink. I can’t drive,” he squawked.

  Sonoma shook her head solemnly. “And neither can Finn or I. But we came up with a solution.” She darted her eyes at Finn again.

  Uh-oh. Not a good sign.

  But instead of Sonoma continuing, Finn stepped in. “Sonoma’s staying in my room with me.”

  Never mind that Dave needed to wrap his head around that announcement, where the hell was he supposed to stay? He looked down at Ellie. “Can you drive?”

  “What? No. I can barely walk.” She hiccupped. “Why can’t Sonoma and I share, and you and Finn share?” Funny. She didn’t sound drunk; she sounded pretty damn logical. Except she kept swaying.

  Sonoma shook her head. “Each room has nothing bigger than a full bed. I can’t see the guys sharing something that small.”

  “I can’t see us sharing a bed at all,” Finn said.

  “I second that. What if I take the bed, and Finn takes the floor?” Dave posed, but Sonoma shot him daggers. “Fine. Finn can have the bed, and I’ll take the floor.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “First of all, there’s hardly any floor space. Second of all, Finn and I—”

  Finn draped an arm over Sonoma’s shoulders protectively. “We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, and we’d prefer staying together.”

  In a teeny-tiny cutesy voice that had Dave grinding his molars, Sonoma said, “Why can’t you and Ellie share her room?”

  “No!” he and Ellie exploded at the same time. Dave snapped his head toward Ellie, his jaw swinging open. Ouch! And the ego takes one for the team. Her eyes were wide, and he bit back the laughable urge to ask her if the thought of spending the night with him was that unappealing. Guess the kiss didn’t rock her like it rocked me.

  Ellie rushed into the void of their mutual astonishment. “The great room has some comfy-looking couches. I could curl up on one of those with a blanket.”

  “Oh hell no!” Dave bellowed. Front and center in his mind loomed an image of Cowboy Douchenugget pawing at her while she was asleep and vulnerable.

  Now they all stared at him with owl eyes.

  He puffed out a breath. “What I meant was, you keep your room and I’ll figure something out.”

  Ellie blinked. “Such as?”

  “Such as I’ll take one of those comfy couches. Or sleep in my truck. Or a hay bale in the barn.”

  Sonoma giggled. “Maybe you can stay with Uncle Stan … or Great-Grandma and the Aunt Ednas.”

  The good feels from the evening went up in a wisp of smoke. Han—or was it Darth Vader?—whispered that he was in for a very long, very uncomfortable night.

  Chapter 23

  I Think You�
��re on My Side

  Oh Lordy! Ellie’s fuzzed-up brain spiraled in her tornado of thoughts as she stumbled amid their little group toward the main house. The kiss still wreaking havoc inside her, she pictured Dave sacked out in his truck. Dave sacked out with her. More kissing. Her sacking Dave. Or was it “bagging”? Dave on the couch. Her on Dave on the couch. Her in his truck, straddling him. That kiss! Wookiee love. Making whoopee.

  “We’re gonna head on up.” Sonoma’s announcement jarred Ellie to the here and now at the bottom of the stairs. The dance was over, and people had been drifting into the great room, some heading to their rooms while others filled the space with talk and laughter. “Your stuff’s in Ellie’s room, Dave.” When he shot her a quizzical look, she added, “Maybe because your room was next to hers, and they assumed … Or they thought it was a convenient spot to put it?” She shrugged, then pulled Ellie in for a squeeze while Finn, looking completely unapologetic, wished them good night. They jogged up the stairs hand in hand.