Winning It All (Hometown Players Book 4) (8 page)

When I wake up, the sun is softly filtering in through my gauzy white curtains. I’m on my back. Sebastian is on his side, facing me, his left arm and leg draped over me. I feel both elated and panicked at the same time. Or actually in succession. I’m elated because, damn, last night was satisfying and fun, but also panicked because I have no idea what comes next.

I turn my head to look at him while he sleeps. His brown hair is curling and sticking up everywhere. His long, thick, dark golden brown lashes flutter ever so slightly with every deep breath and I swear to God he’s smiling just the slightest. I may never see this sight again so I drink it in and try to sear it into my memory. My hand gently grazes over his cheek, the stubble tickling my fingertips.

Here in the early morning quiet, without his smug smile or cocky stare taunting me, I can admit he is the most beautiful man I’ve ever known. It makes my heart clench and desire pool between my legs at the exact same time. As my fingers slip toward his pretty mouth, he kisses my fingertips, letting me know he’s awake.

“Morning,” I whisper.

“
Good
morning,” he emphasizes.

“Great night.”

“Hell yes.” He laughs and uses his arm draped over my stomach to pull me so I’m on my side facing him. His eyes finally open. They’re a little less pale and icy this morning, the gray circle around the outside darker than usual.

“You have to go to work soon, don’t you?” he asks.

“Not too soon,” I reply and move closer to him.

His hand slips down my back to my bare ass, and his lips graze mine. The graze turns into a light kiss, which turns into a deep kiss. He rolls onto his back, taking me with him so I’m lying on top of him. Instantly I feel his hard length pressed in between us. We keep kissing. Long, deep invasions of each other’s mouths. The heat of both our bodies increases and my core starts to ache. I want him this morning as much as I did last night.

“I suck,” he groans suddenly into the kiss. I pull back a little and look down at him. He looks guilty and almost shameful. “I only brought one condom.”

I blink. Is he fucking serious? “When have you ever just slept with someone once in one night?”

He looks a little shocked. “Lots of times, actually. You’re the exception, Shay, not the rule.”

My heart does a backflip. Sebastian runs a hand through my hair, tucking it behind me ear. “Do you have any?”

I shake my head. He looks devastated, and I take it as a supreme compliment. It makes me feel incredibly confident. I smile deviously at him.

“You do suck,” I agree and start to move down his body, under the duvet. “Lucky for you I suck too.”

“Shayyyyyyyyy.” He holds the
y
until my mouth on his hard shaft strangles his voice.

I lick him from balls to tip and then cover the entire tip with my lips. I suck and pull off him and then do it again, moving a little lower, taking more of him into my mouth. And then a little lower again. With every tight, wet pull off of his beautiful dick, he groans. One of his hands finds my hair and the other pushes the duvet down so he can watch me work. I decide to stop teasing and the next time my lips cover him, I slide all the way down his shaft, enveloping him in the warm wet that is my mouth.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses and pushes up into me.

I have to fight the urge to gag. He’s so damn big! “Sorry, baby,” he whispers sensing my slight discomfort.

I start to move in a rhythm, sucking hard and making sure my tongue swirls all around him and my hand around his base works him at the same pace and pressure. I’m proud at how quickly he goes off, like a bomb, in my mouth. I swallow every ounce and slowly pull my mouth away. I look up and his head is pushed back into the pillow. His cheeks are pink and he’s got one hand against his forehead as he struggles to find air. I grin and flop down beside him.

“Damn,” he whispers with a self-conscious chuckle. “You make me a quick shooter.”

“If you’d brought another condom, we could have worked on building up your stamina.”

“Next time I’ll bring two or three,” he says with a grin. “Boxes.”

I laugh. The fact that he said “next time” makes me want to do a victory lap around the bedroom. My alarm beeps from the night table.

“Ugh. Work.” I turn it off and pull myself out of bed, tugging the sheet so it comes with me.

“Need someone to scrub your back?” he asks, pushing himself up on his elbows and giving me an unobstructed view of his defined chest all the way down to his hips where the duvet is pooled around him.

“I would take you up on that, but I’m fairly certain it would lead to other activities that will make me late for work,” I tell him. “Trey will fire me.”

“I’ll find you another job.” He winks.

Unfortunately, I’ve got to get in that shower because if I’m late again, Trey will lose his ever-loving mind. I leave Sebastian alone in my bed.

Her hair is still damp, and she’s twisted it up into one of those half-bun, half-ponytail things girls do that look messy and perfect at the same time. She’s in black capri yoga pants with a band of teal blue fabric around her tiny waist and a teal Lycra tank top. She’s carrying her workout bag and a bright pink hoodie.

I stand by her front door and try not to get a hard-on as I check out her ass in those pants. Jordan was right: whoever created yoga pants is a genius. He should know, since his wife is a physical therapist and lives in them. Shayne heads to the small, round glass dining room table and pulls a banana and two shiny red apples out of the fruit bowl. I smirk. “Don’t eat that banana in the car. It’ll distract the fuck out of me.”

She suppresses a giggle and smiles, tossing me one of the apples. “This banana is a piece of cake. I’ve had much bigger things in my mouth just this morning.”

I fight a flush, and a wave of blood flies to my groin on that comment. She starts toward me. Just as she’s about to pass me and reach for the front door, I push her up against the wall and kiss her. She tastes like toothpaste and cherry lip gloss.

She pulls back, tasting the toothpaste in my mouth too. “You used my toothbrush?”

I nod and kiss her again. When I pull back, her pretty nose is scrunched up in mock disgust. “Gross, Frenchie! Get your own.”

“I have my own.” I shrug and take her overstuffed bag off her shoulder before exiting the apartment. “Next time we’ll have to stay at my place so I can use it.”

My eyes subtly dart toward her to judge her reaction to that. I see her pretty mouth start to move upward in a smile, but she pulls her lips into her mouth to stop it. I’ve dropped the “next time” bomb a couple times since last night, hoping she’ll take the hint. This isn’t a one-time—I mean two-time—thing. This is something I want more of—a lot more of. She hasn’t acknowledged the same, verbally, but her half smiles give me hope.

She’s quiet on the car ride over, flipping stations on my Sirius XM satellite radio until she comes across some AC/DC and then she cranks it. I smile. “Back in Black” isn’t my idea of morning music, but she’s smiling and singing along, and that I like. I make a quick left into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot and get into the drive-thru line. She turns down the radio and looks at me. I ignore her and order two large coffees and a toasted blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese.

“You need a coffee,” I tell her. “You barely got any sleep last night.”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you my dad or my bed buddy?”

Bed buddy?

“Neither,” I say pointedly. “I want to be much more to you.”

The amusement on her face disappears, and I want to say more, but the guy in front of me has moved on and it’s our turn at the window. The girl working is about eighteen or nineteen with long blond hair in a big ponytail sticking out the back of her hat and too much makeup. She glances up at us and starts to repeat the order, but stops.

“Sebastian Deveau. Oh. My. God. You’re Sebastian Deveau!”

“Hi.” I smile and give her a little awkward wave. She turns scarlet and smiles.

“Oh my God. Seriously?!” She’s almost squealing. I laugh and glance at Shayne, who is watching the scene from behind her sunglasses, and even with half her face covered I can tell she’s confused. But she won’t be for long. Fuck. This is probably the worst way for her to find out what I do for a living, but I’m trapped. I can’t stop this from happening. So I take a deep breath and look back at the girl. She’s completely flustered.

“Sorry! It’s just you’re my favorite player,” she gushes. “My brother wants to play for the Winterhawks one day. He’s at University of Washington on a hockey scholarship right now. We love watching you play.”

“Thanks. You’re very sweet. Tell your brother I wish him luck. Umm…how much was my order again?”

She shakes her head, further embarrassed. “Nothing. It’s on me.”

She hands me a bag with the bagel and then the two coffees and for the first time she realizes there’s someone else in the car. Her eyes move up and down Shay and it’s easy to see she’s judging her. She might as well hold up a scorecard with a number out of ten on it. If it was me, Shayne would get a perfect ten, but something tells me this girl doesn’t see it that way.

“I can’t let you pay,” I say with an easy grin.

“No. I want to! You can get me back one day,” she suggests happily and lowers her eyes, batting her big mascara-covered lashes in an attempt to be flirty. I glance at Shayne, who is now staring at me openmouthed.

“You’re a hockey player.” She whispers this so only I can hear, and it’s filled with confusion—and contempt? Yeah, this is going to go as badly as I thought it would. Fuck.

“You can buy me a drink at the bar or something,” the cashier girl suggests excitedly. “My girlfriends and I have fake IDs and we like to go bar hopping. Do you ever go to Liberty or The Sunset? I heard you do.”

Hell no
, my brain screams. I glance at Shay, who is still staring at me; her hand holding the coffee I gave her is just hanging there, frozen, in midair. Her free hand rests on the console between us. I cover it with my own hand, immediately lacing our fingers together.

“That’s so sweet of her, isn’t it, baby?” I ask Shay, and then reach up and pull her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles. I turn back to the Dunkin girl. “Thanks. Do you want me to sign anything or something?”

“Ahhh…” She’s been thrown off by the show of affection I just gave Shayne. Thrown off and probably heartbroken. Whatever. She’ll get over it. She leans over and gives me a pen and asks me to sign the receipt from my order. I ask her name and sign it.
To Amy. Thanks for my morning coffee. Sebastian Deveau #8.
Shay watches me sign and I swear I hear her whisper, “Oh God, no.”

I hand it back to Amy and give her a big smile before covering Shayne’s hand with my own and driving away. As soon as we’re back on the street, Shay yanks her hand away.

“What the hell, Frenchie!” she bellows. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re a hockey player?”

She’s mad, but worse than that, she looks betrayed. Damn. I start to scramble for a way to fix this or, at the very least, minimize the damage. “I was going to mention it at some point, I swear.”

“Really? When?”

“Soon,” I promise and then I can’t help but add, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t know.”

“How would I know?”

“Because everyone knows,” I say with a shrug.

“No. Not everyone knows,” she argues back. “Does Audrey know? Audrey can’t know.”

“Audrey probably knows,” I counter and slow to a stop at a red light. “I mean Josh knows. He’s a huge fan and he works with my financial advisor. Also your boss, Trey, he probably knows. My team’s captain is his ‘stupid hockey player friend,’ as you put it the other night.”

“I have to go,” she states flatly and starts to open the door to the car. The light has turned green and I’m letting the car roll forward, about to hit the gas. But when I realize she’s going to get out even if I’m moving, I quickly yank the car to a spot at the curb in front of a fire hydrant.

“Shay, is it really that big of a deal?”

“I can never come back to that Dunkin Donuts again! She’s going to spit in my coffee every time!”

I laugh. “Not if you’re with me. I’ll just have to come with you every morning.”

She has both feet out of the car now and she’s just reaching for her bag, about to jump out. I reach over and grab her arm. She flinches. “I’m not going to get coffee with you again because we aren’t going to be together again.”

I blink. “Why?”

Her face contorts with something dark. Something I really do not understand but that makes my stomach grow cold despite the hot coffee in it. “Well, for one thing, you lied to me, which I would have expected if you’d told me you were a hockey player. And I will not date a hockey player. I won’t. Ever. So bye.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I blurt out as she yanks her arm free and slips out of the car.

“Nope. Not kidding,” she says firmly and shoves her sunglasses back into her hair. “So thanks for the memories…I guess…but forget my name, okay?”

“Shayne!” I call out as she starts down the street.

She ignores me completely and turns the corner up ahead, disappearing into the bustle of morning pedestrians. What the hell just happened?!?

It’s amazing I’ve made it through most of the day. This morning I had two nutrition classes to lead and then I covered a shift at the juice bar. I was like a zombie throughout all of it. My brain was all Frenchie, all the time, and the bomb a horny drive-thru girl dropped on me this morning. He is a fucking hockey player. One who hides it so he can get in my pants. And he got in my pants. How the hell did I not know? The Winterhawks players are treated like celebrities around Seattle. He’s probably on the news and in newspapers all the time. How did I not recognize him?

I bet Trey knows he’s a hockey player. And if Josh knows that, then Audrey probably knows it and didn’t tell me. And if that’s true, then a potential boyfriend isn’t all I’ve lost. Because Audrey knows exactly why I feel the way I feel about hockey players. She is supposed to understand and support me and my decisions. Instead she stood there and let me hook up with him. Twice. Oh my God, I slept with a hockey player, not once but twice. I had four hockey-related orgasms. I hate myself.

There’s more than one reason I promised myself from a young age I would stay away from professional athletes, and hockey players in particular. Even now, in my twenties, I still feel they’re valid reasons. That sport alone has ruined my life and the lives of people I love. And it, like most professional sports, breeds a self-entitled, arrogant, insensitive type of man who is incapable of loving anyone but himself and his equally dickish teammates. I know how unreasonable that sounds to people who don’t know me—and haven’t lived my life. When I first explained my all-encompassing hate to Audrey, she didn’t understand it either. But then, our first year of college, she came home with me for a weekend and came to one of Trey’s hockey games with me and met my parents. She’s understood ever since. Or so I thought.

Maybe none of this matters anyway. I mean, he
is
a hockey player. And despite his little hints that he wanted to see me again, he’s already had me—twice—so he’s bound to be at least halfway over it—over us. My firsthand experience tells me hockey players don’t have long attention spans when it comes to females.

On my break I head to the garage where I had the car towed. They tell me they still don’t know what’s wrong with it. Just the news I need to put the crappy icing on a craptastic day. The whole seven-block walk there and back I do nothing but think of Sebastian. Why did the sex have to be so good? Why did he have to make me come? Why did he have to be so perfectly flirty? Why does he have to wear skates for a living? When I get back to work, I head to the large staff lounge. There’s a wall with a sink, cupboards, fridge and microwave to the left. In the center of the room there’s a table with chairs. At the back of the room on the left is a couch and a chair facing a flat screen on the wall. Next to that are two small workstations with laptops. I head there to do some research on green power foods to bulk up my next presentation. Somehow, though, I start googling Sebastian Deveau.

He’s been with the Winterhawks his entire career. He was drafted in the first round. He was a superstar in juniors. He had the most penalty minutes and the most short-handed goals in the league his first year. A defenseman. If there are levels of hockey hate in my heart, the deepest one I have is for defensemen, so
of course
that’s what he plays. Just like my father. Of fucking course. He went through a contract negotiation last year and now makes three and a half million dollars a year. There’s the fuel that sparks the fire of greed, belligerence and insensitivity: the money. Hockey players make so damn much that they don’t have to be accountable for anything. They can just buy their way out of—or into—anything they want. I know because my father made the highest salary of any NHL defenseman when he was playing ten years ago.

I read a few new articles with playoff predictions, since the season ends next week and apparently the Winterhawks have already secured a playoff spot. Sebastian is mentioned a lot. One article is about how he fought too much in the conference final last year and spent too much time in the penalty box. I frown. Another says Sebastian leads the league in points by a defenseman this year and is poised to set a new Winterhawks record. Beating the old one set by…Glenn Beckford. There is some sick joy in knowing my dad’s record, which he still boasts about, will be erased, but it’s matched by the horror I feel knowing that it’ll be broken by a man I’ve seen naked.

I find a blog that talks about how he used to live with Jordan Garrison when Jordan first joined the team and how it was like a frat house. I can’t imagine the women that have traipsed through there. Then again, I can. I wonder if I should get tested. I mean, yes, we were safe, but…

My eyes wander to the menu at the top and my hand, as if acting on behalf of my hormones, clicks the images button. Hundreds of photos of him on and off the ice fill the screen. Man, he’s pretty.

“Whatchya doing?”

I jump and quickly close the laptop, spinning in the chair to face Audrey, who is standing by the door.

“You know I thought you were dead or something,” she tells me, stepping into the room. “He’s athletic. When you didn’t call me this morning I thought maybe he had accidentally fucked you to death.”

“Classy, Audrey.” I roll my eyes. “Remember this wasn’t my first naked Sebastian rodeo.”

She laughs and flops down on the couch. “Oh, I remember. You walked around for a week with that goofy smile on your face.”

“Like you said, he’s athletic, which makes him fun to be naked with. But do you know why he’s so muscly?” She averts her eyes. She knows! “Audrey! How could you let me do that?”

She leans toward me from her position on the couch, her eyes pleading. “I didn’t always know, I promise! I found out the other night. But the first time I had no idea. I thought he was a weight-lifting accountant, just like you did.”

“But when you knew, you didn’t tell me!” I’m honestly upset.

My best friend gets off the couch and walks over to me, pulling me up from the chair I’m sitting in and hugging me. “I’m sorry. I should have. It’s just…you already liked him.”

“I don’t even know him,” I argue, but I’m hugging her back.

“Well, biblically you know him,” she counters, and I know she’s smiling over my shoulder. “And you liked him. He made you come, Shayne, and no man has ever—”

“I know, but that’s not reason to risk repeating my mistakes,” I reply. “You of all people should know the risk is high.”

She pulls back, putting her hands on my shoulders and staring at me like a mom would to a daughter whom she’s lecturing. “I know. I still regret dating Tyler and setting you up with his teammate. God, they were both such dirtbags, but they hid it so well at first. Fuckers.”

I think back to how charming Tyler, the captain of the Syracuse hockey team, was when he and Audrey started dating. He brought her flowers and took her on romantic dates. He was funny and sweet and went out of his way to be nice to her friends. He was so captivating, and Audrey was so happy, he had me willing to go on a date with his teammate Dustin, who was interested in me, apparently.

Dustin was equally charming—and so I decided to waive my “no hockey players” rule, which I implemented thanks to dear old Dad. And for about a year I thought it was the best decision I’d ever made. Even after Audrey found out Tyler had “accidentally” slept with someone else and they broke up, I stayed with Dustin. He was different—even Audrey, with her broken heart, thought so. And then one day there was a knock on my dorm room door, and a girl I’d never met before told me she’d gotten chlamydia from my boyfriend last week, and I should get tested.

He swore she was some kind of crazy puck bunny stalker and was lying. But when the test results came back positive—and he accused me of giving it to him even though I’d been a virgin when we hooked up—I never spoke to him, or any hockey player, ever again.

“But Sebastian isn’t Dustin or Tyler,” Audrey declares.

“He’s not? Let’s see…They were hockey players, they were charming, they were handsome…” I give her a hard stare. “Sounds pretty similar to me. Oh, and he’s a Winterhawk, just like the biggest cheating hockey player out there, my dad.”

“But you like him,” she argues firmly.

“I liked him when I thought he was an accountant or a stockbroker or…a trust fund baby.” I sigh, pulling my hair out of its ponytail and giving it a shake. “I can’t like him now. Liking him now would mean…”

“Being like your mother?” she finishes for me, and I nod slightly. She frowns but pulls me into a hug. “He’s not your father. And despite what Tyler and Dustin did, I still say not all hockey players are cheating bags of dick.”

I huff out an awkward laugh at that. “Haven’t met one that isn’t.”

“Maybe that’s about to change,” she replies firmly, but I shake my head.

“Look, it’s not just that. It’s the lifestyle. It’s hard—on them and the people they date,” I explain, and I mean it. “They’re gone for weeks at a time. And their careers can end at any minute with a precarious body check. There’s torn ligaments, broken bones and concussion syndrome. He could end up addicted to painkillers, like Trey did before he could even have a career.”

Audrey thinks about that seriously. I can tell by the way her smile slips off her face and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows meld together. “Yeah. It’s a risk. But shouldn’t you at least spend a little more time with him before you write him off? Maybe go for coffee and get to know him?”

“No. He’ll just tell me what I want to hear to get what he wants, which is more nakedness,” I reply. “He proved that by not telling me about hockey in the first place.”

She sighs, disappointed, and drops back down on the couch. “Well, at least you got some great sex out of it—finally. You’ve been in a drought for years. How you can give up sex now that you’ve had it again is beyond me. I mean, seriously, you should be like a man on a hunger strike who just tasted bacon.”

“Bacon?” I question, and I smile despite the seriousness of my feelings. “Did you just call Sebastian bacon?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Bacon is delicious and so is he. It’s also bad for you, like you think he is bad for you. Of course he’s also delectable…and rich…and orgasmic—like chocolate.” She giggles. “He’s chocolate bacon.”

I don’t want to giggle with her but as usual when Audrey amuses herself she amuses me too. Even if it’s at my own expense. This is why she’s my best friend and why I’ll let her little betrayal slide—this once. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So are you, but in a way that’s a lot less satisfying,” she explains and winks at me. “Look, you don’t have to commit the rest of your life to this guy, but why not let the chemistry run its course? Work it out of your system a few more times.”

“Keep sleeping with him?!”

“Yep.”

“Nope.” She frowns. I frown. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not the bed buddy type even if I’m fairly certain he is, because, you know, hockey player.”

My best friend suddenly looks serious. “Says who? You guys have hooked up. No flowers. No romance. Just carnal bliss. If that’s not a bed buddy, what is?”

“I was experimenting because you told me to. It was just a one-night stand,” I rationalize to both her and myself.

“A one-time thing you did twice?” Audrey still sounds skeptical. She shakes her head, blond hair skimming her shoulders. “I’ll be very surprised if you two don’t end up naked together again.”

I don’t say anything. Because I know Audrey, and when she gets something in her head it’s hard to change her mind, and I don’t even have the energy to try. Besides, time will show her how wrong she is. I glance at the wall clock and stand up.

“You here for my class?” I ask, and she nods. “Let’s go. And I expect a thank you from Josh for making you extra bendy.”

She rolls her eyes and follows me out of the staff lounge.

An hour and ten minutes later we’re both sweaty as we roll up our mats. Well, I roll up my mat. Audrey is still in child’s pose. I walk over and shove her hip with my bare foot. “Don’t fall asleep, Audrey. I need you to drive me home.”

“That piece of shit car still isn’t working?”

“Yep. And please do not talk about Connie that way. She’s sensitive,” I say because Audrey knows I named my car. I’ve had her since freshman year of college.

“How is it that Trey drives a BMW X3 and you drive a hunk of garbage?” Audrey asks, even though I know she knows the answer.

I roll my eyes as we walk out of the yoga room and into the foyer. “I stopped accepting guilt gifts from dear old Dad a long time ago.”

It’s the last class of the night. We close in less than forty minutes so the place is relatively empty. I see movement from behind the frosted glass wall the separates Trey’s office from the rest of the gym. I tell Audrey I will meet her in the shower and head to his office. The door is open and I waltz right in, intent on finding out if he knew Sebastian was a hockey player, but I freeze because he’s got someone with him: a willowy auburn-haired girl I’ve never seen before.

Trey notices me and waves me in as I’m about to turn around and leave. “Hey Shayne! I want you to meet someone.”

She turns to face me and smiles. “Hi. I’m Jessie Caplan.”

I step farther into the office and shake her hand. She’s got a nice firm grip and a warm smile. And she’s stunningly pretty. “Hi. I’m Shayne, Trey’s sister, but I also teach here.”

“Jessie is my newest hire,” Trey announces with a satisfied grin. “She’s a physical therapist with a background in sports injuries.”

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Jessie, and welcome!”

“Shayne, can you show her around quickly, now that everything is empty?” Trey asks me, and I nod. “Thanks. I’ve got some paperwork to deal with.”

I nod again and head back into the lobby with Jessie behind me. As I show her around I also ask her questions, which she answers freely and openly. She’s originally from Maine, went to school in Arizona, and came to Seattle for an internship to finish her school program. They hired her and she stayed. She has nothing but good things to say about her former employer, so I can’t help but ask why she left.