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

by G. K. Brady

  Paige’s green eyes sparkled as she welcomed them inside with hugs. “Ellie, we’ve gotten so many compliments on the lights! You’re going to have to staff up next year because I think you’re going to be flooded with clients wanting the same treatment.”

  Dave shot Ellie a questioning look. “You did their lights?” He seemed astonished.

  “Well, Finn, Felipe, and the crew.”

  “Huh,” was his single response.

  Paige shut the door and held out her hands. “Let me take your coats. Dave, I hear you’re a big car buff. Beckett’s in his man cave slash garage with some of the guys—including a few from your hockey club—if you want to head out that way.” She pointed down a hallway and grinned. “He’s got a full bar set up out there too.”

  “Maybe later, but thanks.”

  Ellie looked him up and down as they followed Paige toward a festive burble interwoven with jazzy Christmas music.

  “What?” he hissed.

  Whoa! Ellie did a quick throat clear and ignored him. “So, Paige, I wanted to thank you for the referrals. I think I’ve gotten six calls already, with landscaping consultations set up for right after the holidays.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Paige ran on, though Ellie barely heard a word, too busy wondering what was wrong with her date.

  They reached a large great room festooned with fresh boughs and silver bows and tiny lights—also done by Landscaping with Altitude—and the first people she spotted were Lily, Natalie, and Sarah happily chatting in their own cluster. Paige pointed to where the drinks were, and Dave headed in that direction while Ellie made a beeline for her tribe. Maybe Dave taking a few stiff belts would chill out whatever had crawled up his butt. It occurred to her he’d been taking a lot of stiff belts lately, but she pushed the observation to the side.

  Soon she was lost in conversation about one project or another with her friends, trying not to think about how elegant they all looked in their shiny cocktail dresses and their pretty nails. Maybe Dave’s embarrassed to be with me. As happened too frequently, an image of picture-perfect Nicole popped into Ellie’s head, bringing with it a list of Ellie’s shortcomings. Her eyes wandered the room trying to spot him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  T.J. appeared beside Natalie and gave her a little squeeze. Natalie grinned up at him. “Where have you been?”

  “Just checking out Miller’s latest acquisition, a sweet Rolls-Royce Dawn. Can I get one?” He waggled his eyebrows at his wife, who just rolled her eyes and muttered something about her impractical husband.

  T.J., whom Ellie had met after a game, recognized her. “Hey, Ellie. Where’s Grims?”

  She didn’t hide her surprise. “I figured he’d be in the garage ogling the cars with you guys.”

  Lily dropped her lashes and sipped her drink. “Gage is out there,” she offered apologetically.

  After an awkward beat, Ellie excused herself. “I’ll go see if I can find him.” And get myself a glass of wine. It only dawned on her in that moment that Dave had neither offered nor returned with anything for her. Not that he had to wait on her, but it was unusual. He was normally so attentive. She squeezed through the huge crowd, looking for some wine and breathing space on the fringes, ending up by a wall of French doors that opened onto a deck strung with lights. So classy and beautiful! Next year, she’d be sure her house got equal treatment, by God.

  As she was admiring the lights, she noticed a stunning brunette bundled in a coat, talking with a broad-framed figure who was handing her a smile and a glass of red wine. Grumpy Bear, his back to Ellie, didn’t look quite so grumpy anymore. An unexpected stab brought stinging tears to her eyes, and she sucked in a huge breath and tried to shake it off. A hand gently encircled her arm. “Ellie?”

  Blinking rapidly to stave off the pending waterworks, she turned toward the familiar voice, startled and relieved to see Damian Mencher’s smiling face.

  “It is you!” he exclaimed and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “How have you been? You look fantastic!”

  Running a self-conscious hand through her hair, she opened her mouth to spit out her thanks, but before she could, he scanned her and frowned. “You’re empty-handed. Let’s remedy that situation right now.” He took her hand and led her toward the kitchen, cutting through the crowd and creating a seam she could easily navigate.

  They found a quiet corner. She’d had one sip of wine and they’d talked for maybe five minutes when someone large and warm loomed behind her.

  “Damian, is it?” Dave’s deep voice rumbled.

  Really? He ignores me, but as soon as a man pays attention to me, he’s front and center? What the hell? Talk about mixed signals. She shot him an exasperated look, which he totally ignored, preferring, it seemed, to smirk at Damian. To his credit, Damian didn’t show any sign he was intimidated. Amused, perhaps. Either stupid or cocky, the man stuck his hand out. “Damian Mencher, Director of Habitat for Humanity. Nice to see you again, ah … Dave, was it? Ellie looked like she could use a drink.” He offered Dave a shrug and a bland smile, so different from the brilliant one he’d bestowed on her.

  Dave glanced down at her as if only then realizing she stood beside him. She raised her glass, gave him a fake smile, and slugged down half her wine. Asshole!

  Paige rescued her from the bizarre man-standoff by tapping her on the shoulder. “Some more clients who’d like to meet you.” To the men, she said, “Sorry, gentlemen, but I need to steal Ellie for a little business talk.”

  “Thanks for the wine, Damian,” Ellie said before turning away, grateful she was on Paige’s heels and headed, hopefully, to some remote part of the house where she could escape and catch her breath. And while she didn’t give Dave a backward glance, she felt his eyes drilling into her nonetheless. The stark possibility she’d once again misjudged a man sobered her. Was she guilty of seeing only what she wanted to see and blanking out warning signs that would cause her to shield her heart? Dave was used to a certain kind of woman, one with whom Ellie shared no similarities. Maybe he was slumming. Maybe she’d been convenient, and he’d taken advantage and was now ready to slide back into a more glamorous world.

  Ellie steeled herself. Whatever was going on with him wasn’t her problem unless he made it her problem. At least this time she could stop herself from falling before it was too late and she was knocked to her knees. That was, if it wasn’t too late already.

  In the anonymity of the darkened car, they hurtled home through the incongruously merry holiday twinkle show outside the windows. Dave stewed in the misery of his own making. How could he bridge the uncomfortable quiet that hung thick and juicy between him and Ellie? He’d been a total jerk, abandoning her at the earliest opportunity and making an appearance only when Damian Douchenugget started fawning all over her. Yeah, he hadn’t wanted to be at the party, but he’d agreed, and it was seeing her with Damian that shook him into remembering that fact. Also shook him into realizing that while he didn’t want to be there, he didn’t want her there with anyone else.

  Christ, he was screwed up! No wonder she’d turned her back and practically run away from him. Fawning aside, Douchenugget had done her the small courtesy Dave should have done. But then again, maybe not. And there was the rub. If Dave left it alone, let her believe he didn’t give a rat’s ass, letting go would be easier when the time came.

  He stole a sidelong glance and winced inside at her body language. Was she hurt? Mad? Practically hugging the car door to stay as far away from him as possible, eyes either cast down or glued to the window, and her fingers continually rubbed her bare collarbones. Something was missing.

  “Where’s your necklace?”

  A tiny shrug. “I lost it. Paige knows, and she’ll look for it.”

  Ah shit. His natural reaction was to ask if there was anything he could do, but he didn’t want to give her an opening to tell him to go fuck himself. “I think I owe you an apology for being a dick.” Again.

  Without hesitation, she swi
veled her head. He could feel stormy blue eyes burning into him. “You think you were being a dick?”

  Ouch. Not the reassuring pass he didn’t realize he’d been hoping for.

  She let out a huff, followed by, “So why were you a dick? To drive home the point of how little you wanted to be there? The only time you seemed to notice I was even on the same block was when some other guy—a business acquaintance, no less—was gracious enough to say hello and offer me a drink.”

  Though he’d totally deserved her brittle words, they left a scorching red welt. And he had yet to stop bristling about Damian slobbering all over her, as if Dave had a right to be possessive in the first place. Confused emotions—guilt, regret, self-pity—congealed in the pit of his stomach. “Just a lot going on right now, I guess. I know it’s no excuse, but sometimes I get caught up and sort of blank out.”

  She let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Kinda selective, isn’t it? You didn’t seem very blank when you were making sure the pretty brunette on the deck had a glass of wine.”

  The bite in her tone took him aback, and he found his temper kindling—like it had whenever Nicky accused him of two-timing her. And just like then, he knee-jerked like a guilty man and started pleading his case with annoyance edging his tone. “I didn’t get her a glass of wine. She asked me to hold hers while she put on her coat. I was merely handing it back to her. I was being polite.” That chiding inner voice reminded him while he’d been polite to the brunette—whose face he couldn’t even recall—he hadn’t given Ellie as much consideration, and his words came out petulant even to his own ears. And really, the petulance was directed at himself. Not her. She hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, except be who she was, which was so far above him, he couldn’t crane his neck back that far. And seeing her with Damian had been a sharp-toothed reminder that Dave wasn’t good enough for her because he couldn’t give her what she deserved, which was all of him. Not just his money. Not his celebrity. Those were easy to give, and they were all he’d ever given. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be an issue because he’d be gone.

  He pulled up to her curb and looked longingly at the front door, picturing the cozy space beyond, the one with smells of home, a dog happy to see him, and a ridiculous mound of too-soft cushions he wanted to sink his body into. A girl he could pull into those cushions with him, one he could hold, except he was pretty damn sure she wanted nothing to do with him right now.

  As if she’d heard him, said girl abruptly flung open the door and had her heels on the pavement before he’d managed to get a hand on his door latch. She was bent over, hair swinging like a shimmering gold curtain as she looked at him through the gap of her open car door. “Well, you warned me, didn’t you? And I should have listened. I’m sorry I put you through that, Dave. Sorry I put us both through what I really thought would be a pleasant … Never mind.” Her voice, laced with regret, about undid him.

  “Ellie, wait. Can we talk?”

  “I’m really tired, and all I want right now is to get some sleep.”

  In a hopeful gesture, his mouth hitched up on one side. “Want me to tuck you in?” He realized too late what a dumbass remark he’d uttered, and if he’d had any doubt, the scowl on her face left no question whatsoever.

  A sigh, a shake of her head, and the scowl vanished, but she held up a staying hand. “Not tonight. And I can walk myself to the door.” With that, she shut the car door and pivoted, leaving him sitting like an asshat, helplessly torn between running after her and letting the invisible grip that locked him behind the wheel keep him there.

  What the fuck was the matter with him? The one woman, the only woman, whose opinion counted, and he’d done everything in his power to send her running. He glanced back at her house, but it was dark and still, buttoned up tight, as if nothing and no one stirred inside. With a sigh, he thumbed her a text. Call you tomorrow?

  He waited long minutes, and her non-answer became his answer. As he pulled away from the curb, an overwhelming sense of loss moldered in his gut.

  Chapter 31

  Your Signals Are Unreadable in the Fog

  Dismal days later, Dave still hadn’t spoken to Ellie, but he’d coaxed her into a thaw. They’d exchanged texts, and, bonus, she’d agreed to come to his game tonight and grab dinner afterward. God, he missed her! Sitting in his bare-walled town house these last nights had only added to his misery, and driving it home further was a bubbly Sonoma too busy with her own successful love life to help him grind down some of his pointy edges. All of which made him a total pussy.

  It was in this funked-up frame of mind he took the ice that night, glad for the distraction. His anger and aggravation blended with the excitement of seeing Ellie, becoming a concoction that rapid-boiled inside him. Harnessing the seething brew, he unleashed it on their rival, Detroit. And by God, it was working because the Blizzard was winning, and Detroit’s frustration showed in the number of cheap shots they resorted to and the fights they picked.

  “We’re getting under their skins, boys,” Dave declared to his teammates while he sat on the bench between shifts, eyes studying every move their opponents made on the ice. “Watch yourselves out there. Play smart, and don’t take any penalties. That’s what they want.” He hadn’t expected any responses, so when a few sailed his way in the form of “Okay, Cap,” or “We got this,” he was pleasantly surprised.

  More surprises came later when he took up his position beside the chute leading to the locker room, giving each teammate who filed past his usual, “Great job tonight,” or “Awesome game.” In return, he got a few extra stick taps, nods, and fist bumps. After getting cleaned up, he stood in front of his stall knotting his tie. T.J. nudged him. “Good game tonight, Grims. Hand must be feeling better.”

  On instinct, Dave flexed it, biting back a wince.

  T.J. gave him an approving nod. “Hey, you joining us at the ChopHouse?”

  The invite caught Dave off guard, and a smile tugged a corner of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Can’t, man. Got dinner plans with Ellie.”

  “Bring her. We’ll do our best not to scare her off. Besides, Nat and Sarah will be there, and those girls are thick when they get together.” T.J. gave him a light punch in the arm. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”

  Dave snorted, belying his spirits lifting like a helium balloon escaping a kid’s hand. Drifting up into the atmosphere. Not at jolting speed, but floating leisurely as it climbed higher.

  How Dave had won a reprieve with Ellie, he had no fucking clue, but he was so damn relieved when he spotted her forgiving smile that he decided to put away the opposing battalions warring inside him and soak up the sweet feel of that victory. His eyes flew to her—and fixed there—as she stood waiting for him in a cluster with Natalie, Sarah, and a few other wives and girlfriends.

  Awkwardly at first, they tiptoed around each other as though they picked their way barefoot over shattered glass. Soon the uneasiness gave way to the comfortable familiarity he hadn’t realized was between them before, and his spirits lifted a little higher. At dinner, he slid into the seat beside her, proud he was there with her, especially when he caught the looks other men gave her—looks she was utterly oblivious to. An unruffled air of confident sweetness surrounded her like a full-body halo, drawing those appreciative glances and him closer to her. This woman beside him was rare beauty personified, inside and out, so much a part of her essence that she didn’t even see it herself, and he pondered how long he’d been aware of it.

  They laughed long into the night among his teammates and their SOs. Like the old days. And much later, when he had her alone in her bedroom, the same desperation that had been gunning through him thrummed inside her, and any remaining differences between them dissolved after two rounds of torrid makeup sex. He was left panting and spent and unable to recall what fears and doubts had been spinning in his head. Maybe staying in Denver wasn’t the worst fate ever.

  As he fell asleep with Ellie curled naked against him, he thought fuzzily that she
was downy insulation he could wrap around himself, muffling out the rest of the noise. Nothing in that moment felt more right than this. He’d slid all thoughts of injuries and trades and uprooting onto the back burner, instead eating up the way having her in his arms made him feel. Needed, worthy, significant. And damn, he loved seeing her smile, making her happy—which was amazingly easy to do when he didn’t act like a douchenugget.

  He could have remained suspended in his little cocoon well into the morning, but Ellie was out of bed before he roused and could reach for her. Casper, however, was a different matter entirely when she wriggled her way beside him and licked his chin. He pushed the dog’s face away. “Does your mom know you’re up here? Pretty sure that’s a no.”

  “Most definitely a no,” came Ellie’s voice from the bathroom doorway, where she leaned against the frame. He looked up at her and grinned. She was fresh out of the shower, all dewy and soft, and to his delight she wore nothing but low-cut panties and one of those half-cupped bras, both pieces embellished with dainty yellow flowers against white. With a fake glare fastened on the dog, she smirked. Her arms were folded across her chest, drawing his eye to the creamy skin cresting over the bra. His dick raised itself to full attention and saluted all that smooth curvature. He gave her a languid head-to-toe sweep and licked his lips, calculating the quickest way to entice her back to bed. Honestly, even he was surprised by his overachieving libido. He was outdoing his nineteen-year-old self. Then again, he was constantly inspired by the woman before him.

  “You’d better get Casper off the bed,” he said.

  Ellie shot him a quizzical look, but when she reached for the dog, he lifted the covers and reached for Ellie, yanking her under the sheets alongside him. Casper scampered from the room while Ellie bucked and squirmed, giggled and squealed. “What are you doing?”