Page 6 of Bagging the Blueliner
He softened, reaching out to grasp my hand. “Of course not, Hanny. We love having you here, but wouldn’t it be nice to get your own space? To not have to worry about coming in late and having the dogs go ballistic thinking you’re an intruder?”
Twisting my lips, I mulled over my options. I could say no and try to find another dead-end job, or I could say yes and spend even more time with the players. It did have an upside. On the road, I could try to figure out the local hangouts of the home team’s players and maybe snag someone whose livelihood my father hadn’t threatened.
Before I could respond, Dad added, “Your closest friends are successful, career-minded women. They should inspire you to follow in their footsteps. This is your chance.”
Contrary to a fault, I countered, “Not Natalie.”
A shadow passed over my dad’s blue eyes. “Natalie has a trust fund and married well. Twice.” He held up two fingers for emphasis.
Natalie, along with Amy, were my two best friends. I met them on my first day attending school in Hartford when they’d graciously taken pity on me and invited me to sit with them at lunch. I didn’t often get along with girls because I fell in with the boys—it wasn’t my fault I talked sports all the time. Other girls saw me as a threat, and teenage girls could be mean. If it weren’t for Amy and Natalie, I was pretty sure I would’ve lived a life without female friends. Their sister-in-law, Lucy, moved nearby recently, rounding out our girl gang.
Dad wasn’t kidding when he said that Natalie had married well. Believe it or not, both Natalie and Amy had married European princes—brother princes, to be exact. For any otherwoman, that might be enough to make them feel inferior and jealous, but not me. I wasn’t cut out for that life. I was born into the world of men carving up the ice, and it was in my blood. It was rough and dirty, and made me feel alive.
Natalie got married right out of high school to the oldest brother, Leo, who turned out to be a real piece of work. She’d barely escaped his clutches with her three children, returning home and getting a second chance. Then, she fell in love with the Comets’ captain, Jaxon Slate, and had another baby with him. They’re happily married, and she was living the dream—my dream. I wasn’t interested in Jaxon, but I coveted her lifestyle.
Amy wound up married to Leo’s younger brother, Liam, about two years ago. If you looked up “big and broody” in the dictionary, you’d find Liam’s picture beside it. He was a giant hulk of a man, with a matching scowl, but was as loyal and protective as they came. Amy had needed help with a work situation, and Liam stepped up, offering to marry her. They didn’t start out as a romantic relationship, but now they were very much in love. They split their time between Hartford and Liam’s home country of Belleston, where Amy was very involved in creating new charities to serve the needs of others.
Then there was Lucy, our newest girl gang member. The little sister of Leo and Liam, she was only a couple of years younger than us. A badass boss bitch, Lucy ran two of her own fashion labels and was working toward launching a third. This October, she was getting married to Preston, a local nobleman’s son, but it was very hush-hush. They were trying to keep everything under wraps so the press wouldn’t hound them on their special day.
Dad was trying to make me fit into the mold of a life he thought I should have. Couldn’t he see that I was born to stand out?
I couldn’t deny that getting my own place was a major plus, so sighing, I gave in. “Fine. I’ll take the job. For one season. On one condition.”
Cringing, knowing my demand could be just about anything, he dared to ask, “What is it?”
“I still get to sing the anthem at home games.”
Sagging in his chair, his relief evident, he smiled. “Of course. It’s the bright spot of home games to see you out there.”
Warmth spread in my chest. I might be headstrong and boisterous, but I would always be a daddy’s girl. My best memories were watching warmups against the glass as a young child, waiting for the moment he skated by to blow a kiss. Or, as I got older, studying film with a bowl of popcorn when it was just the two of us. Our bond was probably why he thought he was protecting me, eliminating any possibility of me falling for one of the womanizing men who played the game.
But if he thought a job with the Comets was enough to sidetrack me from my quest, he was dead wrong.
Chapter 2
Cal
IhatedHannah Moreau.
I hated that she thought she knew everything about hockey.
I hated how she thought she was “one of the guys.”
I hated how I couldn’t take my eyes off her ass.
I hated how every contrary word out of her mouth made me want to bend her over my knee and spank that delectable ass.
I hated that I wanted her.
I hated that I could never have her.
I hated that she was the only woman on Earth who didn’t want me.
That last part might seem cocky, but it was true. I had an uncanny ability to get women to drop their panties. Maybe it had something to do with my rugged good looks or irresistible charm, but I knew it boiled down to the fact that I played professional hockey and, as a result, had a fat bank account.
I knew they didn’t want the real me, but that didn’t stop me from taking advantage of what they had to offer. I always made sure both parties left satisfied.
None of them were enough to erase Hannah from the back of my mind.
