Page 9 of Second Shot

“I was just telling him he needs to buy a different couch.” Niko sips his beer, stretching out his legs and looking like he owns the place.

Kincaid approaches with a beer held out to me. “Here, you look like you could use a drink.” His expression is congenial. He seems like a nice guy. I remember from practice that he’s a two-way forward. Personally, I think he’s underrated. He struck me as a solid playmaker without a ton of ego. Teams need guys like him.

I grimace. “I probably shouldn’t drink anything. We have practice tomorrow, right?”

They all laugh and my face warms.

“Yeah, we have practice,” rasps Marlowe. “Not church.”

“Come on,” Niko says. “Loosen up a little. Have a drink with your new teammates.”

“One beer isn’t going to ruin your career, bro.” Foster shrugs. “I mean, I assume you can hold one beer.”

“Obviously.” I force a smile and accept the beer Kincaid is offering. I need to fit in, and if that means drinking a beer with them, then that’s what I’ll do.

“Look,” Niko continues, settling back onto the couch, “I get that you’re the new guy and you feel a lot of pressure to perform. But this team doesn’t expect you to be a monk. We don’t expectyou to be perfect. We expect you to be human.” He studies me. “This is our way of saying we’ve got your back and we hope you have ours.”

“I do. Of course I do.” I sip the beer, enjoying the hoppy taste. “And yeah, I’m feeling some pressure for sure. I don’t want to let you guys down.”

Waving me off, Kincaid says, “We’re not worried about that.”

“You’re not a god,” Jacobs says, speaking for the first time. “You’re just a man like the rest of us.” He gives a tight smile as he speaks, but something about his voice is different from the others.

The others are trying to build me up. Encourage me. But it almost feels like Jacobs is trying to put me in my place. That doesn’t make much sense, but I can’t shake the feeling the guy just doesn’t like me. The rest of the team wants to accept me. They want me here. But Jacobs? I’m not seeing that same energy from him.

As our eyes meet, heat courses through me at the way his blue eyes burn into me. He’s a sexy motherfucker, and the look he gives me is almost challenging. He’s watching me like I’m his foe rather than his teammate. Why? Did I do something wrong at practice that put his back up? He pulls his gaze from mine and he tilts his head back, drinking from his can of beer. My dicktwitches with interest as his tanned throat moves up and down as he swallows.

Jesus I’m a twisted fuck. Am I actually attracted to the one guy in the room who seems to hate me?

“Don’t mind Jacobs,” Kincaid says, watching the two of us. “He’s an asshole to all the new guys.”

Jacobs doesn’t respond, he simply moves to look out the windows.

“True that.” Niko grins. “He always treats the new guys like they have the plague until they prove themselves. Took him three months to say more than ‘nice job’ to me, and I’m the guy who keeps pucks out of our net.” Niko takes a long drink and studies me over the can. “It’s not personal. He’s just... protective of the team.”

“I can understand that,” I say, making sure to sound amiable. Truth is, I think there’s more going on here than Jacobs just being protective. During practice, it felt like I was trying to build rapport with a statue. A statue that hated me.

“We’re playing an away game against the Red Rock Raptors Saturday,” Niko says, interrupting my thoughts.

I nod. “I saw it on the schedule.”

“Vegas, baby.” Foster smirks. “Win or lose, we’re going to have a little fun after the game.”

Scowling, Niko says, “Don’t be so cavalier. We’re going towin.”

“Fucking-A we are.” Kincaid holds up his beer. “We’ve got Ryan Caldwell on our team now.”

No pressure. No pressure. No pressure.

Niko nods. “And after we win,thenwe’re going to party. Gotta show our new guy we know how to have a good time.”

“Never doubted that for a second.” I fake a smile, but inwardly wince. I’ve done my fair share of partying on the road, but right now, all I really care about is being the best I can be. If by some chance we lose the first game I play with the team, I’ll be the one everyone blames. If we lose, the last thing I’ll want to do is go out drinking.

But I can’t say that.

I don’t even darethinkthat we might lose that game.

So instead of letting them see my fear, I grin and toast Niko and the others, pretending I haven’t a care in the world. I put on a fucking good show. I deserve an Academy Award for this performance. I’m the golden boy. I’m their savior. I crack jokes and tell stories that have the guys rolling on the floor laughing. The old Caldwell charm is working just like always.

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