Page 13 of Bagging the Blueliner
Knocking into his body slightly, I returned, “Feeling’s mutual, brother.”
It was a term of endearment, but my teammates—and these two in particular—were my family. They were the ones I spent holidays with, played uncle to their kids, and the ones I wanted by my side as we rode into battle on the ice.
Up until a few years ago, all three of us were single. Against all odds, Jaxon had managed to snag Natalie, and we were blessed to become hockey uncles to their daughter, Charlotte. Affectionately called Charlie, that two-year-old ball of energy had us all wrapped around her little finger.
But it had also changed our dynamic.
Jaxon didn’t come out with us anymore unless Natalie and her best friends—including Hannah—came too. On road trips, he often skipped out on dinner or other activities to video chat with his kids. Charlie was his biological daughter, but Natalie came with three older kids from her first marriage. Jaxon, being the genuinely good guy he was, stepped right into the father-figure role for all of them.
As much as I mourned the loss of our bachelor trio, family life suited Jaxon. Having barely turned thirty, he was playing the best hockey of his career.
Running through the two-on-one drill a few more times, Coach blew his whistle, ending practice for the day.
Our first few games were played at home, but this afternoon, we were headed out on our first road trip of the season. The first stop was Halifax, then onto Quebec City before returning home.
The team shuffled down the hall to our locker room, everyone sitting at their assigned stalls, removing their gear. Travel days meant practice, packing, and plane—in that order. There wasn’t time to dawdle, and the race to the showers was on.
My skates and top gear were off when I heard an all-too-familiar voice coming through the door. “All right, boys! Firstroad trip of the season is on deck, and I’ll be your cruise director, Hannah.”
That earned her a few chuckles from the guys around me, but I inwardly groaned. That girl always needed to be the center of attention, and it was getting on my nerves.
After the moment we’d shared at the barbeque, I didn’t trust myself to look up at her, so I busied myself, stripping the tape off the blade of my stick.
“I will be your point of contact regarding accommodations and team transportation while we are on the road, so don’t hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything.” Hannah paused, then added, “And I meananything.”
Jesus, could shebeany more obvious?
The implication that she was willing and open to sex was clear, but in the ten years I’d been with the Comets, no one had broken rank and messed with any of Coach’s three daughters, so I let it slide. That was until I heard one lone catcall—a suggestive whistle to my right.
My head snapped up, blood roaring in my ears.
Which idiot thought it appropriate to openly leer at Hannah?
Yeah, because you haven’t been doing that for ten years.
Telling my inner voice to shut the hell up, I located the source of the noise—Levi Nixon. Fucker didn’t even have the good sense to hide his interest. He was one of the younger players on the team, and it was no secret that he liked to push boundaries.
“Watch it,” I growled in his direction.
“Mind your own damn business, Cal.” Hannah’s annoyed voice cut through my haze of rage, and I forced myself to look at her.
Hands on her hips, she openly glared at me. If she thought I was going to sit idly by while one of the young guns had a go at her, she had another thing coming.
If I couldn’t have her, no one could.
I knew I was being irrational, but I didn’t care.
Staring back at Hannah, I couldn’t stop myself from doing what I always did when she was in a room—scanning her gorgeous body from head to toe. She probably didn’t realize that a pissed-off Hannah was the hottest of them all.
Long brown hair accented with caramel highlights fell softly around her face, her cheeks pink in anger. A beige blazer hung off her shoulders. Underneath, she wore what looked like a floral lace-up corset that left a few inches of skin exposed below her navel. Swallowing hard, I scanned further down over her muscular thighs trapped tightly by dark denim until I reached her feet, clad in . . .
What the hell?
Without thinking, I rose from my stall, swiftly closing the distance to where Hannah stood and sweeping her into my arms. There was a fleeting moment before she realized what I’d done before she began to pound on my chest the best she could, tightly tucked against my bare chest.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down!” she screeched.
Was she serious right now? Or just plain stupid?
