The Rebel: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Looking to Score Book 1)

by Kendall Ryan

  “Hey. Shake it off, sweetheart.”

  “But—”

  I silence her with a kiss. “Nothing is ruined. I have a plan.” I give her a wink. “Just breathe.”

  She draws a deep breath through her nose and then lets out a little cough, because it really is smoky in here. I unlock and then push open the kitchen window, hoping some air circulation will help.

  “What’s your plan? Order pizza? Nothing’s open, Holt. We’re screwed!” She throws her hands up dramatically.

  Eden looks as though she could cry, and I know it’s not really about the turkey. I know she wanted today to be perfect. I know she’s felt the pressure of having such big shoes to fill ever since her grandfather died. I know she hates disappointing people. And I know she really hates looking like a fool in front of her mother.

  Which is why I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance today . . . or let anything go wrong. She has to be reminded that—as I’ve told her on more than one occasion—I’ll always protect her.

  “Holt?” she says, her tone pleading.

  I press a quick kiss to her pouting mouth. “Okay, so I saw this flyer . . . for that fancy grocery store down the block you like?”

  “Fleishman’s?” Her eyebrows push together.

  I nod. “That place, yeah. They were advertising whole roasted turkeys on Thanksgiving. I ordered one . . . just in case.”

  “Okay, this might be worse than me burning the turkey. You knowing I was going to fail is so much worse.”

  Frowning, I shake my head. “That’s not what this is.”

  Her eyes widen and lock onto mine. “Then how can you possibly explain this?” She plants her hands on her hips.

  I give her shoulders a squeeze. “I know how much hockey players eat. I was only thinking . . . in case we needed more food. You know, like the pizza that you had to order the last time you had the guys over?”

  “Oh.” She softens, her mouth lifting in a smile. “Oh. Yes. That was . . . thank you. That was probably a good idea.”

  I grin back at her. It’s the truth.

  “But how do we—”

  I silence her with another quick kiss, because it’s just really damn satisfying being her knight in shining armor right now. “Aspen is picking it up on her way over. She’ll be here any minute. And everything’s fully cooked, so we’ll just have to plate it.”

  “Everything?” Her eyebrows lift again.

  I shift my weight. “So, I actually got two turkeys. Three more pumpkin pies, and a side of mashed potatoes.”

  Her eyes widen. “Is that all?”

  I shrug, giving her a sheepish look. “And a ham, extra gravy, and two dozen garlic rolls.”

  She laughs. “Oh my God, you’re insane but I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Eden looks at her kitchen island, gesturing to the food set out there. “But I baked six apple pies and two pumpkin—”

  “I know, sweetheart. Again, it’s just in case. Hockey players eat like six thousand calories a day during the season.” She should know this. After all, she’s the one who once told me that factoid.

  Eden rolls her eyes and crosses the kitchen to turn off the oven. I take a moment to check out her ass. It’s a wonderful sight, what can I say?

  When Aspen arrives a few minutes later, I distract Eden’s mom with some riveting questions about her shih tzu’s diet—more than I ever wanted to know—while Eden and Aspen shuffle quietly into the kitchen to remove all the food from the plastic and tin containers and onto serving platters.

  A few minutes later, we’re all seated at two long tables that have been set up in the living room and decorated by Eden herself.

  Last week, she called me incredibly excited on her way home from a craft store, where she’d found fake pine branches, autumn leaves, miniature pumpkins, pine cones, and a whole bunch of white votive candles that she somehow turned into a professional-looking centerpiece for each table. It’s very impressive.

  I’m next to Eden, and our moms are across the table from us, still chatting away. This time, the topic is the best place to get a manicure. The guys are scattered around the two tables—it’s no shocker that Alex isn’t here. We’re not on bad terms with him, but let’s just say things are still awkward.

  Wild takes the seat next to Eden’s, and Les and Aspen are across from him. Saint pulls out the chair beside mine, and once everyone has found a place, Eden stands and clasps her hands in front of her.

  “You guys,” she says, laughing unexpectedly. “Who knew we’d be here together?”

  A few of the guys laugh.

  I know she doesn’t mean here, physically, eating Thanksgiving dinner together, but here in these deep relationships, these friendships and team camaraderie that has formed so unexpectedly.

  She’s right. Everyone has grown close this season, and it’s all because of her. It’s obvious the team shares a deep bond that’s allowed them to rise to the top of their division.

  And as for me? Eden is my whole world, and that’s the last thing I expected when I walked in her office that day after accepting a new assignment. But let’s just say I have a lot to be thankful for this year.

  “I’m truly blessed to call this team my own, and I’m thankful you all chose to be here, spending the day with me. Cheers, everyone!” Eden raises her water glass in a toast.

  “Cheers!” and “Happy Thanksgiving” is echoed around the room.

  And then a couple of the players stand. At first, it’s just Saint and Reeves, followed by Lucian, Miles, and Tate. And then everyone is standing, all nine of the hockey players here today. And they’re all looking at Eden.

  I expected them to dig into their food the second her toast was done, but instead, everyone is unnervingly silent, and I’m not sure what’s happening.

  Saint runs one hand over the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “We, uh . . . the guys and I came up with something we wanted to say.” He nods to Reeves.

  Reeves begins with a confident smile. “E is for the encouragement you’ve provided since day one.”

  “D is your determination. It’s second to none,” Lucian says in a serious tone, giving Eden a meaningful look.

  I find her hand under the table and squeeze it. Her eyes are wide, and there’s a slight smile on her mouth, but she also looks surprised, like this is the last thing she was expecting.

  “E is for the excellence you demand in everything you do,” sings Tate.

  “And N is for your no-bullshit attitude, which we appreciate too,” Miles says, getting a few laughs from around the table.

  “There’s no one else we’d want at the helm, and to this I say kung-fu,” Saint finishes.

  “Kung fu?” Wild asks.

  “I needed something to rhyme with too,” Saint whispers, which gets a few chuckles.

  “To Eden!” everyone shouts at once.

  I raise my glass in a toast to her and then lean over to steal a kiss. “I think your hockey team just wrote you a poem.”

  Tears glisten in Eden’s eyes when she gazes at me and nods. “I think so too.”

  Even Eden’s mom looks stunned by their thoughtful display.

  “I love you all, but you’re jerks for ruining my mascara.” Eden laughs, wiping her eyes with her cloth napkin.

  The guys chuckle, some calling out, “We love you too!”

  “Now, eat,” she orders them with another shaky laugh.

  And they do. Everyone digs in with gusto. I can barely keep up with carving the turkeys, and the ham is gone before I can even blink. In addition to playing a rather rousing game of hockey, these guys have an impressive talent for making food disappear.

  Camille and Lucian ask about a few of the dishes they’re not familiar with. The sweet potato casserole with marshmallows seems to amuse them, though Lucian dishes out a second helping for himself, grinning as he eats. “Is good.”

  The pies are sliced and coffee is served, and everything is delicious. By som
e miracle, we have plenty of pie.

  As I glance around the room—seeing Eden at the center of an animated conversation about save percentages and the western conference standings, and which is better, pumpkin or apple pie—I can’t help but smile.

  I’m happy for her. She once admitted to me she didn’t have many friends, during one of those late-night, post-sex conversations—you know, the kind where you can really let your guard down? Well, she opened up. Her voice was soft, almost as though she was letting me in on a dark secret.

  And maybe she was, because I was sure as hell shocked to hear she felt that way. Everyone who meets Eden loves her, and most probably think she’s out of their league. I couldn’t figure out why she’d struggle to make friends, because she’s friendly, open, bright, and articulate.

  But seeing her here now, surrounded by a loud team of hockey players and her staff, it’s obvious she’s found her tribe. This crew would do just about anything for her.

  Maybe she was just waiting for her people, and now she’s found them. We would be here for her through thick or thin, through exciting wins or bitter losses. We’d see her through her bullies and critics, and definitely be there to celebrate with her in the good times—like this one.

  Because for as much as I complained about today, there’s a lot to be thankful for. Eden’s mother came back to the US for the holidays, which I think secretly pleased Eden. And by some miracle, my mom is actually getting along with her mom.

  Eden laughs at something Saint has said, and then she looks at me, flashing me the most brilliant smile that sends a jolt straight through my chest. It’s then that I know I’m so damn lucky to be the guy by her side. It’s a place I’ll gladly stay for all of eternity, next to her, letting her take the spotlight and shine like the star she is.

  Because it doesn’t get much better than this. A beautiful woman who loves me, plenty of pie, a totally burned turkey, and a bunch of rowdy hockey players reciting horrible poetry.

  EPILOGUE

  * * *

  EDEN

  The only thing better than Thanksgiving dinner is the long, turkey-induced, night’s sleep afterward.

  When I blink awake in the morning, nine full hours of shut-eye later, I feel as though I’m waking up from a coma, more rested than I’ve felt since the hockey season began. I guess that’s what a full belly, a night with friends, and the perfect bedmate does for you.

  When I sit up to check the time, the big burly man next to me grumbles, pulling me closer to him like I’m his favorite teddy bear.

  “Morning,” I murmur, snuggling closer into Holt’s broad chest. His body is warm and solid against mine, one arm draped protectively over me.

  “Mmm, nope.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, and he buries his face in my hair. “I reject that. It’s still nighttime.”

  “I think the sun says otherwise.” I chuckle, allowing just enough space between us for me to roll over and face him.

  The tips of our noses brush against each other, which brings a slight sleepy smile to his lips, even though his eyes remain closed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this peaceful, this content.

  “Rise and shine, baby,” I say, squeezing his hip. “We need to get on the road soon.”

  It’s rare that we both have a day off, so we decided to make the most of our long holiday weekend and book a getaway to the Cape. We picked out the cutest little family-owned inn for our stay, and this afternoon, I’m surprising him with a private whale-watching excursion out of Provincetown.

  In just a few hours, we’ll be bundled up in the back of our own private charter boat, watching the waves through sets of binoculars. That is, so long as I can get Holt up and moving in time. Luckily, I know how to wake him up in a hurry.

  “C’mon, sleepyhead,” I murmur, guiding my hand along the front of his boxer briefs.

  His body jerks in response, and he instantly stiffens beneath my touch, just as I hoped.

  “Mmm, yeah?” His gray eyes flutter open, already dark with need as he touches his lips softly to mine.

  One hand floats up to my jaw, and when he kisses me again, we’re suddenly both wide awake. He plants a trail of lazy, open-mouthed kisses along my neck and down my collarbone, while I fist my hand around his shaft through the cotton of his boxer briefs. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, pushing his hips against my rhythm.

  And then, in a moment of pure bad timing, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I try to ignore it, keeping my grip on his length, but then it buzzes again. I’m getting a call.

  With a sigh of defeat, I slip out of Holt’s arms, reaching for my phone. It’s Coach Wilder.

  “I have to take this.” I scramble out of bed and lunge for my robe, making myself feel decent enough for a work call, then wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Hello?”

  “Eden.” Wild sighs, sounding relieved. “Thank God you picked up. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t,” I grumble, because technically, that’s the truth, although his call is certainly an unwanted interruption.

  “Good. Any chance you’ve heard from Braun recently?”

  My brows scrunch together at the mention of my ex, and Holt definitely notices. He sits up in bed, arching one thick brow at me. I mouth the words it’s fine before slipping out to the kitchen.

  Something about discussing an ex in my bedroom, even in a professional capacity, feels wrong, especially when my boyfriend is half-naked and probably still hard between my sheets.

  “I haven’t spoken to him in weeks,” I say to Coach once I’m safely in the kitchen, leaning up against the island and chewing on a hangnail. “Other than a word or two at practices. Why do you ask?”

  A low, frustrated noise comes over the line. “I really hate to involve you in this, Eden, but we might have a bit of a problem.”

  “What kind of a problem?”

  “An Alex-is-missing kind of a problem. He wasn’t at practice on Wednesday, and he skipped morning skate today. It’s not like him.”

  My stomach squeezes into a tight knot.

  Coach is right. That isn’t like Alex. In all the years I’ve known him, he’s never let anything stand between him and his hockey career. If he’s skipping practice, he must be either sick as a dog or in a ditch somewhere. And the man may have broken my heart, but I don’t wish either of those things upon him. Especially not the second one.

  I promise Coach that I’ll do what I can to help the situation, although I’m not entirely sure what that entails, then end the call with a huff, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter.

  Holt and I need to be on the road in an hour if we’re going to stick to our plans. How much can I get done in an hour? I suppose we could go to Alex’s apartment and check on him before we leave town, but that feels all kinds of awkward.

  I tap on my phone screen, pulling up my contacts. If ever there was a time to delegate, it’s now.

  Moments later, I’m on the phone with Aspen, interrupting what’s supposed to be her day off too. “I’m so sorry to do this to you, but will you go check on Alex? He’s not showing up to practice, and Coach is worried.”

  “Sure thing.”

  When Aspen agrees cheerily, I make a mental note to double the holiday bonus we budgeted to give her.

  Just as we’re finishing up our call, two big, warm arms encircle my waist, and I instantly feel at ease.

  “Everything okay?” Holt asks once I’ve hung up, leaning over to press a kiss onto my cheekbone.

  “I’m not sure. Coach is worried about Alex. He’s been missing from some practices lately.”

  “Sounds serious,” Holt replies with a grunt, which is really the most sympathy I could ask from him on topics pertaining to Alex. He knows that my involvement with my ex starts and ends with his work on the ice, but when he’s not showing up to do that work, we have a problem.

  “It might be serious,” I say, grabbing Holt’s big hands and pulling his arms tighter around me. “Or he m
ight just be throwing some kind of temper tantrum. Either way, I’ve got Aspen taking care of it. You and I have other plans this weekend.”

  “We sure do, baby. I’m proud of you.” He hums against my neck, his curious hands wandering down my hips. “Now, where were we earlier this morning?”

  Before I can respond, I feel my feet lift up from the tile, and soon I’m slung over Holt’s shoulder, squealing and kicking my feet as he carries me back to bed.

  “We have to leave soon,” I say with a laugh as my head hits the pillow, but Holt just shakes his head, smiling and pulling the tie on my robe loose like he’s unwrapping an early Christmas present.

  “We’ve got all sorts of time,” he says to assure me.

  And in my heart, I know he’s right. We have all the time in the world. Because a man like Holt only comes around once in a lifetime. Twice, if you’re lucky like me.

  And now that I’ve found him, I’m never letting him go.

  • • •

  Ready for more? Up next in this series is Alex and Aspen’s story, and believe me, you do not want to miss this!

  Grab it here.

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  What to Read Next

  Dump my cheating ex? Check.

  Land an amazing job with Boston’s professional hockey franchise? Check.

  Fall stupidly in love with hockey’s favorite bad boy? Ugh.

  After wasting years of my life with the wrong person, I told myself all I wanted was a little no-strings fun. Enter Alex Braun—the wealthy, handsome, and notorious playboy who is equal parts charming, and dangerous as hell to my wounded heart.

  After enduring a very public breakup of his own, the sexy player doesn’t want to be anyone’s forever. Too bad he barreled his way into my heart, instead of just my bed.

  But this professional athlete knows a thing or two about competing, and he won’t let go so easily.