Puck Drills & Quick Thrills (CU Hockey Book 5) Read online

  I chuckle dryly. “That was the climax of years of bullying. I’m sure you think you weren’t like that, but when you tell teenagers they’re destined for greatness, it tends to go to their heads. They think they’re better than the rest of us and don’t even notice it.”

  He frowns. “You think that’s what it was?”

  “Either that or they genuinely enjoyed it. And even to me that option seems bleak.”

  “What, umm, did your parents do about it?”

  “Excuse me?” Have I fallen into an alternate universe where I not only talk to Westly Dalton, but I apparently bare all?

  “I just mean if you were my kid, I’d be pissed.”

  “They gave me the sage advice of ‘stay away,’ which of course worked a treat.”

  Westly cringes.

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “No reason.”

  “Right. Because this is the sort of conversation we routinely have.” I watch as he shifts his weight, opens his mouth, closes it again, and then I remember that I’m supposed to be ending this conversation, not encouraging it. “Never mind. My coffee will be ready soon.”

  “My little sister’s being bullied,” he says in a rush.

  Oh. Oh. It’s my turn to shift, because that’s not the type of thing I can brush aside easily. “I’m sorry. How old?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Ouch.” I want to reassure him in some way, but I know nothing about his situation or his sister.

  “They’ve been calling her … bad things. About being gay.”

  I flinch, jaw tightening. “I see bullies haven’t bothered to change their material.”

  “Yeah, so I don’t think the stay-away advice is the angle I want to take.”

  “Good choice,” I agree.

  “What … can I ask what you wish your parents had said instead? She doesn’t want me to talk to the school—”

  “Of course not, that will make things worse.” I’m not sure how to answer his question though. I’ve never considered what I wished they’d done instead. My parents love me, and I know their advice came from a time of harden the fuck up, but … “Talk to her. Openly. Check in with her and make sure she knows she has a safe space, and try to give her some perspective outside of school. Maybe find something for her to do where she can make friends instead.”

  “She has plenty of friends, that’s part of the problem. They’re all boys, and I think the other girls are jealous.”

  “Ah, well. She’s already got one up on me, then.”

  “Yeah …” Westly says. “Your friend Dave sort of mentioned something about that.”

  “Of course he did.” My name is called by the barista before I can find out what in the damn hell he and Dave were talking about. I retrieve my coffee and know I should head for the door, but my feet don’t listen. I pause by Westly again. “My advice? Forget about everything Dave told you.”

  “Including your high school reunion?” Westly asks innocently as my gut takes a nosedive.

  “Especially about that.” I go to leave, but I can’t make myself again. “What exactly did he say?”

  “Can’t remember. You told me to forget.”

  It’s probably for the best that he doesn’t elaborate. Though, now that he’s brought it up, I have the opening I need to at least ask, but that would require swallowing my pride. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

  I take a step when Westly reaches out and stops me. “You’ve helped me twice now, Jasper. Sure there’s nothing I can do to help you?” His tone is heavy with suggestion, and I’m sure I know what he’s hinting at.

  I cringe. “Dave mentioned I need a date, didn’t he?”

  “It might have come up.”

  I shake my head. “Forget it. I’m canceling.”

  “Wow. You really don’t like asking for help, do you?”

  I let out a massive exhale. “Fine. Maybe I could use your help.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Ezra Palaszczuk.”

  Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. A scowl crosses Westly’s face as he tenses up again. “What do you need from him?”

  “I know Ezra is out and single—according to Dave anyway—and, well … I know it’s a long shot, but you’ve got to admit that showing up with him would shock them. The scrawny guy they used to throw in the dumpster behind the school and try to drown in the toilet stall grew up to be successful and is involved with someone they would idolize purely because he’s a pro hockey player. And now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds petty, and maybe just forget it.”

  Westly stares at the counter, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder while he thinks. “Well … the whole ‘causing a scene’ thing is right in Ezra’s wheelhouse.”

  It … almost sounds like he’s considering it.

  “His schedule might be a problem, but …” He pauses. “Ezra does owe me. Big-time.”

  “You’ll ask?” No fucking way. I’d been sure he was going to laugh in my face.

  He hesitates again but then nods. “I’ll ask.”

  I stamp down my excitement. “If he says no, it’s not a problem. It was worth a try.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Westly’s coffee is called, and we both hesitate for a moment before I shoot him a stiff smile.

  “Good luck with your sister.”

  “Thanks.”

  I leave before he can say anything else.

  7

  Westly

  I stare at Ez’s number on my phone and will myself to call it, but I can’t. Ezra and I, our history is … questionable. Best friends, fuck buddies, open relationship? There never seemed to be a perfect term for what we were.

  When all the family shit went down, and I was suddenly attending funerals and moving back to Vermont, it didn’t make sense to carry on whatever we were doing. So I ended it.

  Maybe, foolishly, I thought he would come after me. Stupid considering it was in the middle of the season, and he contractually couldn’t. Boston let me out of my contract early, a rarity, but team management was understanding of my situation.

  I might have been delusional about what Ezra and I had. No matter what crazy shit we got up to, Ezra was the one stable thing in my hockey life. I never told him that though.

  The thing with Ezra Palaszczuk is he has Peter Pan syndrome. He never wants to grow up, he’ll never settle down, and just like me, he’ll sleep with anything that moves … sorry, any dude that moves.

  A few months ago, he chose Asher to warm his bed, and I haven’t spoken to him since.

  We’d never had rules before, and we were no longer together, but I kind of figured there was an unspoken code that my brother was off-limits.

  I want to be mad at them both for it, but I have too much other shit to be mad at. Like why the smoke detector in our kitchen hates me. Or why laundry doesn’t fold itself.

  Ezra was once upon a time the most important person in my life. I should call him. I still consider him a friend, even if things are weird right now. And if I ask him this favor, I know he’ll do it, schedule permitting. And maybe that’s the real reason I’m hesitating. The thought of Ezra going out with Jasper makes me feel ill, and I don’t know why.

  I was expecting Jasper to ask me to go to his reunion, and when Ezra’s name fell from his mouth, I didn’t know how to react. But Ezra is the logical choice.

  Then why won’t I call him?

  I think of the small snippets of what I’m sure was a horrific high school experience for Jasper, and I want to go myself and beat the ever-loving shit out of each and every one of his tormentors.

  Okay, maybe not, because I faint at the sight of blood, and I’m not a fighter—ironic for a hockey player—but my point is with what Jasper went through, I can’t help associating it with what Hazel’s going through.

  I’m helpless where she’s concerned, but this … I could do this. But I want to do it myself.

  Getting out of an awkward con
versation with my ex-slash-still-best-friend has nothing to do with it. Maybe.

  So, on Monday morning, after I drop the kids off at school, I go straight to Jasper’s office.

  He gives a small, almost self-deprecating smile from behind his desk. “He said no, didn’t he?”

  I don’t want to lie, but I also don’t want to explain why I didn’t even ask. “Sorry.”

  He waves me off. “No, no, don’t be sorry. It was a long shot anyway. The reunion is next week, so it’s better to know now. I’ll tell them I can’t make it. They won’t miss me anyway. They didn’t at the ten-year one, so why would this be any different?”

  “I could do it,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I’m no Ezra Palaszczuk, but I did play pro hockey for five years.”

  Jasper cocks his head. “But are you … you know …” He makes a circular motion with his hand.

  “Gay, you mean?” Now I tilt my head. “Should I be offended you haven’t googled me?”

  “Have you googled me?”

  “Well, no, but were you ever a part of the Original Six?”

  “What’s that?”

  I rub my chest. “It hurts. It hurts so bad.”

  His lips twitch. “Why do I get the feeling it’s hockey related?”

  “Because it is. You should know things about hockey if I’m going to be your pretend boyfriend for your high school reunion.”

  “B-boyfriend?”

  I shrug. “Well, yeah, that’s what you were going to tell everyone, right?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell anyone anything other than Ezra was my date.”

  “Well, now you’ve upgraded. Besides, it makes more sense since we sort of work together. Plus, if you did take Ezra, it would’ve been obvious you were pulling a favor. Sure, they’d be impressed you could pull it off, but having an actual hockey player for a boyfriend? Imagine the looks on their faces.”

  “You really want to come with me? To my reunion.” Jasper glances around the office. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

  Fuck, my heart breaks for him.

  I shouldn’t be offering. The excuse that I need someone to look after the kids so I can go screw with a group of guys who were assholes twenty damn years ago is a little thin, but the fact Jasper still harbors so much bitterness and hate makes me want to do it. If not for him, then for Hazel. I don’t want her to end up in twenty years freaking out about having to see people she went to school with.

  I don’t exactly know how helping Jasper will help Hazel, but it feels like the right thing to do.

  “Take a chance,” I say. “Maybe I can show you that not all hockey players are meathead athletes who hate on smaller and weaker guys to feel more powerful.” I eye him in a purposeful exaggerated way. “Though, there’s nothing scrawny about you now.”

  “A-are you sure you can get away from your siblings?”

  “Where’s the reunion again?” He emailed me the details so I could ask Ezra, but I didn’t look at them because I was never going to call Ezra.

  “Small town in New Hampshire. It’s near Nashua.”

  “Three hours away? Ish? That’s close enough I can still get back if something happens, but I guess far enough to stay overnight?”

  “They have this brunch thing the next day, but I can skip that. If you agree to come with me, we can turn up, rub it in all their faces, and then be home by one.”

  “Whoa, party animal. Calm down.”

  He frowns.

  “I’m messing with you. I’ll ask the babysitter if she wouldn’t mind doing an overnight just this once.” And even though I’m doing this because I legitimately want to help, I can’t deny a night away sounds like heaven.

  Jasper runs a hand through his light brown hair. “That sounds like a hassle. If it’s too big a deal—”

  “It’s not.” I’m much more comfortable with this idea than the Ezra one. “I owe you one, remember? So, take me with you.”

  His blue eyes meet mine. “Okay.”

  “So we have until next Saturday to learn everything about each other. Where do you want to start?”

  Jasper looks at his watch. “I have class in five minutes, but you’re right. We should set aside some time to get our story straight.”

  “My schedule is messed up. It’ll have to be when the babysitter is at home or Asher.”

  “I’ll email you my class schedule, and you can pick a time that suits you.”

  “It’s a date.”

  “Not a date.”

  “It’s a fake date, then.”

  As I turn to leave, I hear him mutter, “What have I gotten myself into?”

  8

  Jasper

  Five minutes until he gets here. Five minutes until I’m meeting my fake boyfriend to talk about all the things we need to know about each other to make this feel real.

  The reunion is a couple of days away now, and I’m already regretting this whole thing. This was the earliest time we could find to meet up, and if we can’t get to a point where our backstory is believable, it’s going to be a disaster.

  Hell, it’s probably going to be a disaster anyway. On what planet would anyone believe gay, scrawny Jasper Eckstein grew up to snag an ex-NHL player, for fuck’s sake? Someone who’s ten years younger than him at that.

  I may have jacked myself up since high school, but deep down, I will always be that kid.

  I can fake confidence now. I can pretend I believe I’m as hot as people say I am, but I suddenly feel like I’m eighteen years old again.

  I let out a burst of air as I pace back into the living room, double- and triple-checking that everything is in its place. I’m not used to this rush of nerves, not anymore.

  Usually, I keep myself out of any situation that unsettles me, so I was apparently having an off moment when I invited Westly to my house. I drag my hand back through my hair and quickly smooth it down again. Ever since he burst into my office in a whirlwind of rage, things have not been going to plan.

  There’s a knock on my front door, and I freeze. I’m being ridiculous. Sure, I’m willingly letting a hockey player who I’m going to be pretending to date into my home, big deal. It’s not something to stress about. Even though he appears friendly and—thank you, Dave, for pointing it out—is incredibly hot. All I need to do is keep control of this situation. I shake out my arms to try and relax before moving to let him in.

  It’s a cold day, and his cheeks are flushed pink under his hoodie, but as soon as I open the door, he unleashes a smile that lights up his entire face. And it really is a gorgeous face. I thought hockey players were supposed to look all rough and have no teeth. Westly is unshaven with dark stubble and piercing green eyes. He’s effortlessly hot in the unkempt, I just rolled out of bed and look like this kind of way.

  I realize I haven’t moved or said anything, so I step aside to let him in and remind myself that yeah, Westly is a hockey player, but surely he’s too old to pants me and shove me outside for my whole neighborhood to see. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

  “Thanks for coming, Westly.”

  “No ‘Westly.’ Please. Dad used to call me that and …” He shakes his head. “Yeah, West is fine.”

  And we’re off to a great start. Jesus.

  “Nice place,” he says lightly as he walks into my living room.

  The compliment—especially when I’m not so sure it was sincere—shouldn’t warm me like it does. My house is small, but it’s been recently updated, and I’m proud of it.

  “Want something to drink?” I offer.

  “Water, thanks.”

  Awkward. Damn, this is so awkward. I’d imagined it would be, but this is next-level, kill-me-now awkwardness. Neither of us says anything as he follows me into the kitchen, and my mind is blank.

  I pour him some filtered water and hand it over. “You know, I always got the impression you were more confident than this.”

  “Likewise.” West eyes me before taking a long sip. His
Adam’s apple works up and down, snagging my attention.

  I tear my gaze away. “I suppose it’s not every day we have a sudden boyfriend we have to get to know.”

  He takes a seat at the small dining table, setting his phone and keys down.

  I take the seat opposite. “How’s your sister?”

  “Okay, I think? I’ve tried to bring it up with her a few times, but she insists she’s fine and won’t talk about it.”

  “That’s hard.”

  “It is. I have no idea what to do or how to handle it, and—” He stops. “Sorry. I’m not here for that. This is about you. Where do we start with this?” he asks. “Favorite colors? Favorite animals?”

  I huff out a breath. “Somehow I doubt we’ll be quizzed on those.”

  “Porn choices?”

  When my eyes widen and my gaze flicks to his, he grins.

  “Sorry. Bad joke, I guess.”

  “Why don’t we start with how we met? I mean, we don’t technically need to know much about each other. We just need to make it believable.”

  “All right.” West taps his phone to light up the screen in such an absentminded way I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s done it. When he sees no notification, he turns back to me. “You saw me across the crowded staff room and instantly wanted to climb me like a tree.”

  “Why am I the one doing the climbing? Wouldn’t it work better if you saw me?”

  He snorts and gestures to himself. “Come on.”

  I’m going to kill Dave for gushing over how attractive West is. I was more than happy going on with life, completely immune to West’s attractiveness. He’s wearing gym shorts that show off his strong legs, has exactly the amount of stubble I like in a man, and meets my eyes in a way that makes me feel like an equal.

  I can play his game though.

  I push up the sleeve of my T-shirt and flex. He might be a hockey player, but he’s lean muscle, built for speed.

  My sole purpose was to get big enough to intimidate any asshole who thought they could get one over me again. I work out because it makes me feel safe. West looks like he’s the type of guy who works out for fun. Eww.