Checked (Gold Hockey Book 7)

by Elise Faber

  Unable to resist any longer, he bent and kissed her, cutting off her words, taking her into his arms, and not giving a damn they were in the hall, that anyone could walk by or pop their head out of their office and see them.

  Which happened about two seconds after their lips touched.

  The wolf-whistle made her jump, mouth jerking back.

  “Yes!”

  They both turned to see Mandy standing in the hall, fist raised mid-pump. Her husband, Blane, the perpetrator of said whistle, was behind her, a huge grin on his face.

  “Carry on,” Mandy said, taking her huge hockey player by the arm and dragging him back into the training suite, where no doubt the news of their kiss would be chugging right down that Gold gossip train.

  “We’ve done it now,” Rebecca said.

  “I’m sorry.” He touched her cheek. “I shouldn’t have kissed you there.”

  “I’m guessing it won’t be much of a surprise to anyone, considering how much time we’ve been spending together.”

  That was true. The team had been playing it cool for a long time, probably because Mandy understood they’d both needed time to get comfortable and had played mother hen.

  The players did not fuck around when Mandy laid down the law.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Come with me,” she said, and took his hand, leading him in the opposite direction of the locker and training rooms. They were in the bowels of the Gold Mine, the seventeen-thousand-plus seat arena that was the team’s home rink above them. Noise was already beginning to filter down through the concrete, staff prepping the space for the fans that would soon enter.

  But it would get louder.

  There was absolutely nothing like hearing the collective cheers—or groans—from that many people at the same time. It hit Gabe in the gut every time, reverberating through his body, lighting his nerves on fire.

  He wasn’t even a player and it was beyond energizing.

  Not realizing he’d stopped until she tugged his hand, he moved closer to Rebecca and matched her pace.

  “Why are you the one freaking out,” she mused, “when I’m the one with anxiety?”

  Startled, he laughed.

  “Just saying.” She glanced up, brows raised.

  This woman.

  “Rebec—”

  His words were cut off when she tugged him through the door that led to the ice and a blast of cold hit his face. He barely had time to react to the change in temperature before she yanked him again, this time in the direction of a black curtain. Two more steps and they were behind it.

  “What—?”

  She spun to face him, green eyes on fire, but before he could deduce what kind of fire it was—anger or desire—she rose on tiptoe and slanted her mouth across his.

  Ah. Desire. Yeah, he could work with that.

  Especially when he got soft lips, hot tongue, incredible breasts pressed against his chest.

  Perhaps not the most intelligent thoughts, but they were all he could process as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the living hell out of him. Thankfully, he managed to get his body to work, even if his brain was useless. He gripped her hips, lifting her up, bringing her mouth closer and her legs around his waist, and turning to press her against the wall.

  Sweet. So fucking sweet.

  He groaned when her legs tightened, hips tilting to rub against his cock, making sweat break out along his spine even in the cold arena.

  Spice. Lots of hidden spice, exposed for him alone.

  Yes, he was a possessive fucker. No, he didn’t give a damn.

  She nipped at his mouth, arching against him, holding him tighter, and he got the fuck out of his thoughts, focusing instead on kissing her back, on sweeping his tongue past her lips, on tasting every inch of her mouth while he still had air in his lungs.

  Her hands clenched in his hair, pulling his head back as she sucked in gasping breaths, but Gabe didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not when she was so close, smelled incredible, and was finally, finally in his arms.

  He dipped, tracing his mouth across her jaw, down her throat, nipping the exposed skin just above her collarbone. She jerked and groaned, fingers in his hair clenching tighter, and he made a mental note for later that she liked it. But then she was tugging his head back up and their mouths collided as they kissed and kissed and kissed.

  At least until the buzzer rang.

  Then they both jumped apart, abruptly coming back into reality as they heard the noises around them—the arena filling up, the players jumping onto the ice for their pre-game skate, the crack of sticks and pucks—and Rebecca looked up at him, the guiltiest expression on her face.

  “Whoops,” she murmured.

  He grinned and slowly let her feet hit the ground. “Best pre-game experience of my life,” he said. “But I’ve got to get to work.”

  She nodded but bit her lip, eyes flickering with unease.

  “Babe.” Those pretty eyes came to him. “Thank you.”

  The uncertainty faded, pink staining the tops of her cheeks, even as a smile crept into the corners of her mouth. “You know what this means, right?”

  “That you’re stuck with me now?” he teased. “Or that the entire team is probably gossiping about us as we speak?”

  “Yes,” she said, pressing one more quick kiss to his lips before pulling back the curtain. “But it also means that you owe me a first date.” Her hair flipped over her shoulder in a red wave as she glanced back at him and winked.

  Winked.

  His Rebecca.

  He grinned.

  “I think with the way you just kissed me, I might owe you ten dates.”

  She spun around in a movement so fast that he almost missed it. But he didn’t miss the brush of her touch as she cupped his jaw briefly before continuing walking.

  And he didn’t miss her words.

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  He grinned and trailed her down the hall, knowing that he absolutely could not wait to give her that first date.

  As expected, Gabe endured an avalanche of shit-giving when he finally made it into the locker room, mostly because he’d been caught kissing Rebecca in the hall outside her office again when they’d returned from the ice. This time Max had stumbled onto them, and as the resident jokester—a title he’d given himself, not bequeathed by the team—Gabe had known his fate was sealed even before Max had made it back into the locker room.

  Still, the guys had big hearts and though the quantity of shit shoveling in his direction was large, it wasn’t mean.

  They liked him.

  They liked Rebecca.

  They wanted them both to be happy.

  Though Stefan, the Gold’s captain, had given Gabe an eagle-eyed look when he’d made it into the room. Gabe knew that meant they would be having a “conversation”—yes, he said that mentally with air quotes—later because while Stefan was protective of all the Gold staff, the captain had a particular soft spot for the shy Rebecca, having told off more than a few of the guys when they’d complained about the diet or the awkward way she interacted with the players.

  Stefan wouldn’t be telling Gabe anything he didn’t know.

  In fact, after spending so much time together, he knew better than most how much Rebecca pushed through to live her life, and he wasn’t going to jeopardize that. He’d witnessed her battling with herself, watched her expand against the barriers of her anxiety to go to new places, to be more comfortable in talking to people. Hell, it had been almost a full month before he’d begun seeing her eyes on a regular basis. Before that they were focused on spots over his shoulders, on her hands, the floor, anything but his own.

  But she was strong and instead of drawing into herself, instead of allowing her world to shrink, she was trying to make it bigger.

  And for that, she would always have his respect.

  Not that she was always successful. There was a reason it had taken him four months to move from acquaintance
to friend to . . . having ten dates. She’d canceled a lot in the beginning, and when they did make it out, their conversations weren’t easy.

  Eventually though, with patience on both their sides, they’d forged a friendship.

  And lately, he’d sensed a change in her.

  He’d felt those barriers begin to ease open.

  So, no. He wasn’t going to fuck this chance up with her. Not when every time that barrier peeled back a little further, he saw more of the wonderful woman he’d come to care so much about.

  He checked in with Mandy in the training suite, made sure all the injured players had been seen and reevaluated as necessary by the physician team the Gold had partnered with. Gabe was technically an M.D., but his job description was Head Trainer. The team’s physicians—including one onsite ER (emergency room) doctor, an orthopedist, and a PCP (primary care physician) were required to be provided by the Gold for each of the home games—but they also had a team of specialists that worked together with Gabe and the rest of the training staff to keep the team healthy.

  He could have given up his job as trainer, joined the practice treating the team, but that meant he wouldn’t technically be an employee of the Gold, nor be able to travel with the team.

  Gabe didn’t want to work with the team only during particular times. He wanted to be an important member of the organization.

  Plus, his training and experience working under the team for the Panthers meant that he’d lived that reality long enough to know he hadn’t wanted it permanently. Luckily, the management of the Gold had seen his additional degree as a bonus.

  And it was true. He and Mandy both were M.D.’s, and while that didn’t cross over perfectly with everything a trainer did on a day-to-day basis, it gave them the experience and vernacular to work more closely with the physician team. So, it was a win-win. He got to be a full-fledged member of the Gold staff and was also able to put his special skills to use.

  Coop was in the training suite when Gabe came in, not dressed for the game after failing the concussion protocol two nights before. He’d taken a big hit, came off rattled, and that meant he’d needed time to recover.

  Both the physician and the training team agreed on this.

  Coop did not.

  “I’m fine,” he grumbled to Mandy as she surveyed another strike against him—a large bruise on his ribs.

  “I’ll say this once more and then I’m not going to be held responsible for my actions if you continue your complaining. You have one brain. One!” Coop huffed out a sigh, and she held up a roll of tape in response. “Remember, I can use this in all sorts of uncomfortable places if you keep annoying me.”

  Gabe leaned one hip against the table Coop was lying on.

  They both glanced at him, Coop’s lips curving slightly. “You hear that she’s threatening me?”

  Gabe put out his hand and Mandy tossed him the roll. “If you think she’s bad . . . just consider what the two of us can do if we put our minds together.”

  Coop's mouth pressed flat. “You guys suck.”

  “One brain,” Mandy reminded him then sighed. “Dammit. I said I was going to only say it once more. That’s twice now.”

  “Parenting rots your brain,” Gabe said.

  “Parenting is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  Coop grinned. “That’s what my mom used to say.”

  “Used?” Gabe asked, knowing full well Coop’s mom was alive. She’d brought in a pan of mac n cheese for the team just the previous week when she’d been visiting her son. Luckily, it had fallen on a cheat day or Rebecca might have stabbed Coop and the other phase two players for daring to eat it, thus revealing some of that spice to the boys on the team.

  They couldn’t have that.

  The spice was Gabe’s.

  “Yeah,” Coop said. “She used to say it.” A beat. “Before I got old enough to give her gray hairs.”

  Mandy flicked her own ponytail over her shoulder, seemingly checking it for the gray buggers. “When was that?”

  “The moment I was conceived.” Coop grinned.

  Gabe snorted and Mandy smacked him lightly. “Don’t encourage him,” she muttered, shaking her head as she began spreading her special bruise cream on Coop’s ribs.

  “Who?” Coop asked.

  “Either of you.” She placed a heating pad on his ribs, pointed between the two of them. “Neither of you encourage the other.”

  “Too late.” Gabe grinned and fist-bumped Coop, before waving goodbye to Mandy and promising to catch up with her after the game to go over any outstanding injuries or treatment plans.

  Then he slipped on his jacket, grabbed his bag, and hightailed it to the bench.

  It was time to watch some hockey.

  Fourteen

  Rebecca

  She surveyed the contents of her closet and sighed.

  It had been two days since her make-out session with Gabe, two busy days, more on his part than hers, since her job had leveled out at this point in the season, but his was ramping up.

  Playoffs were close.

  The Gold were second in the Western Conference and only a few points back from first, which meant they were in good shape.

  But that was more from a scoreboard perspective.

  The injuries were piling up.

  Which meant that Gabe and Mandy were working overtime trying to keep the boys healthy.

  Brit’s shoulder was acting up. Coop had just been cleared from the concussion protocol that morning, but his ribs weren’t a hundred percent. Max had broken a finger. Stefan had taken a puck in the face in the game two nights before and had needed twenty-something stitches. Blue was rehabbing a sprained knee, and Blane . . . well, Blane was one of only a few players she could think of who were currently uninjured.

  The season was long, consisting of eighty-two highly physical, sometimes brutal games, and she admired the mental fortitude and athletic stamina it took for the guys to make it through.

  She couldn’t do it, couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to, but she admired them all the same.

  What she didn’t admire was the lack of anything worthy enough for a first date with Gabe in her closet. He would be over in less than an hour, and she had . . . absolutely nothing.

  They’d been out together dozens of times over the last few months, but this was different.

  This was not as friends.

  This was as more.

  With expectations and anticipation and . . . she had nothing.

  Her pulse began pounding, tightening her throat, making her dizzy enough that she had to sink to the floor and drop her head to her knees.

  She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t.

  She wanted it so bad and yet, she just couldn’t. Couldn’t. Couldn’t. Couldn’t.

  Groaning, Rebecca leaned back against her bed, dropping her head back to the mattress and trying to stop the cycle in her brain. She didn’t want to be like this. Yes, she’d come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t broken, but dammit, this extra burden she carried felt god awful and heavy at times.

  Especially when she just wanted to be a girl who was excited about a first date, rather than one with anxiety that had been triggered because she was doing something new with someone important and was terrified she’d blow it.

  She picked up her phone, typed out a message, and miserably hit send.

  I don’t think I can do this.

  The text went through, and she dropped her head back to her knees. Barely thirty seconds passed before her cell buzzed. Sucking in a deep breath, she picked it up and looked at the screen.

  Gabe had responded.

  Funny you said that, because I sent you something.

  She frowned, waiting for another text to come through to explain the cryptic message. But none did.

  Sent what?

  This time she didn’t get a chance to read any reply that might have come through because there was a knock at her door. She glanced down at herself, ensuring that she b
ore some semblance of clothing—a bathrobe with ratty sweats counted, she decided—then hurried to the door. Part of her hoped Gabe was the thing he’d sent her. The rest was worried. She’d wanted to make an effort tonight, for him to see her together and looking beautiful.

  Not in holey clothes and spiraling.

  Another knock came when she was a few feet away from the door.

  “Coming!” she called and then glanced through the peephole.

  And froze. Oh God.

  “No use hiding,” Bex called through the door, Mandy and Sara behind her. Their arms were full of bags. Clothing bags. And one that looked like makeup.

  Oh. God. Nope. No way. She couldn’t—

  “I brought wine!” Brit said, and Rebecca watched the tall, slender goalie of the Gold slip in front of the other girls. “Gabe said it was your favorite brand.”

  Damn that man.

  “It’s a cheat day,” Brit continued. “Please, don’t make me drink all three bottles by myself.”

  “Th-three?” she said on a gasp and reached for the lock, pulling the door open. “Brit! You can’t drink three bottles by yourself, th-that’s not on the diet plan. Your pH levels would be—”

  “As if we would let her,” Bex said, nudging Rebecca out of the way and pushing the door wide. “Oh lord,” she said, eyes trailing her from head to toes. “We’ve got work to do. Come on, ladies.”

  She barreled into the apartment, walking straight over to the kitchen and opening cabinets until she found the one with wine glasses. As she pulled six out, lining them up on the counter, Brit slipped by, holding up the bottles as though they were a key. And maybe they were, Rebecca thought, but didn’t have long to focus on that because then Mandy touched her arm.

  “Is this okay?” her friend asked.

  “It’s—” Not okay exactly, but it also wasn’t not okay. Which didn’t make any sense in the least, but all she knew was that two minutes before she’d been freaking out about not having anything to wear and now she had friends on her doorstep.

  Because of Gabe.

  She sniffed, eyes stinging. “You don’t have to help—”

  “Shh.” Mandy hugged her. “It’s okay,” her friend said. “We want to be here. But we’re also a rowdy bunch. So, give me the high sign if it becomes too much.”