Gauging the Player: A One-Night-Stand Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romance Book 3)

by G. K. Brady

  Daisy toppled to the ice and slid into oncoming skaters like a bowling ball heading for quaking pins. Lily sucked in a breath. Before she could let it out, Gage was there, easily scooping Daisy up and out of harm’s way. He set her upright on her skates, his big hand splayed across the width of her tummy. Bending over her, almost cradling her, he was telling Daisy something because her huge helmet bobbed vigorously. He released her, and she flew toward her teammates lining up for the next drill.

  Lily’s heart stuttered for a beat before liquefying into a warm puddle of glop. Tears rushed up her throat and throbbed behind her eyes. She blinked furiously to keep them in check. Gage chose just that moment to look up at her, wave, and send her another smile that was probably meant to reassure her but about cut her off at the knees. What was wrong with her? Crap. She was so damn emotional lately.

  Shaking it off, she told herself it was nothing more than a monthly surge of hormones. Except her monthlies never affected her. Not like this.

  The session ended, and the kids corralled pucks before filing off the ice. Gage and two other men stacked the cones, skated the nets to the side, and gathered assorted debris. Lily made her way to the waiting area outside the locker rooms, glancing at the chattering mothers too absorbed to notice her.

  “Goldilocks!” a rich, deep voice called playfully behind her. She wheeled, oddly gratified that Gage’s eyes were fastened on her. Only her. “Glad to see you could make it,” he breathed as he drew up beside her. He sent the moms a smile and a quick head bob.

  “Derek was watching her, and he offered to bring her so I could finish up some errands.”

  “Ah. That explains—”

  “Would you like to grab some coffee somewhere?” she interrupted.

  One side of his mouth hitched up in another smile. “Absolutely.”

  They stopped at Caribou Coffee, where Gage let Lily treat him to a latte. Seated at a small round table by a fireplace, Daisy took turns drinking her hot chocolate and talking animatedly about the fluky goal she’d squeaked in during the scrimmage.

  “That was a beauty five-hole, Daisy. You slid that sucker in right between his pads before he could close it down. Way to show the other kids how it’s done.” He held out his fist for a bump, then high-fived, middle-fived, and low-fived her.

  Daisy beamed. “That’s Mr. Cage’s and my special handshake, Mommy.”

  “It’s the goal-scorer’s handshake.” Gage winked at Lily before turning his eyes back to Daisy. “You can call me Coach, Daisy. All the other kids do.”

  A very solemn nod. “I will, Mr. Cage.” She slurped her drink.

  He reached out, hovering his hand by her cup. “You’re running low on whipped cream, kiddo. If your mom says it’s okay, why don’t I ask them to add more? Goal-scorers should get extra whipped cream.”

  His heart-melting sweetness shot straight to Lily’s heart.

  Daisy flashed her a gap-toothed hockey smile. “Can I, Mom? Pleeeeeeease?”

  Lily wasn’t sure what touched her more: Daisy’s plea, Gage’s waggling eyebrows, or the fact the two seemed to be conspiring against her in good fun … like a family would.

  She put up a mock protest and gave in quickly. Unable to stop herself, she tracked Gage as he headed to the counter, his powerful thighs visible in gym shorts, a long-sleeved, body-hugging T-shirt showing off his fine chiseled torso. The man had muscles on top of muscles; muscles in places Lily hadn’t known existed on the human body. Maybe she needed a refresher course in anatomy herself.

  He still sported the backward ball cap, and his hair poked through the hole in front, tempting Lily to tug on it when he returned with a full cup of whipped cream. He sat and braced sculpted forearms on his impossibly thick thighs.

  Is it hot in here, or is it him?

  He passed his hand in front of her face, snapping her to attention. He was giving her his blinding, high-wattage smile—the one she wished she could capture and bottle. “Where’d you go, Goldilocks?”

  Crap! He’d busted her.

  “I was just … thinking about the loads of laundry I still have to do,” she stammered. Thank God he had no clue she’d been caught up in lusty daydreams about him.

  “Ah,” he grinned. “No shortage of exciting thoughts in that busy brain of yours.”

  She barked out a completely over-the-top laugh, which did nothing to blow off her rising nervousness.

  Every minute spent with him shifted her image of Gage Nelson, even as it nudged her into a world of mixed-up emotions that confounded her. She felt as though she chased fireflies circling just above her head. Dazzling, alluring. If only she could snatch them, but the farther she stretched, the more elusive they became. One wrong move, an overreach, and she would stumble and face-plant.

  Chapter 14

  Careless Whispers

  Days later, Lily sat in her counseling session, her gaze roving around the room to the inky world beyond the window panes. The group’s attention was currently commandeered by Eva, but Lily’s focus was like that kid walking with one sneakered foot on the sidewalk and the other barefoot in the grass. Partly on its proper concrete course, and partly sinking into cool lushness.

  Her thoughts meandered to the Sapphire Club next door and how her plodding course had quickened and changed since Gage strode back into her life—like a stagnant stream that transforms into boiling rapids.

  His world seemed to be steadily, effortlessly entwining with Daisy’s and hers. He was crispness and color, and his presence lifted the veil that had cast Lily in shades of blue-grays. She found herself wanting to breathe in more and more of him.

  Eva’s hiss jarred her back to the present. “He asked me out!”

  “Your dentist asked you out?” one of the others said, and Lily exhaled a little sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to guess who he was. Admonishing herself, she made an inner promise to tune in to the conversation and stay engaged.

  Eva nodded, looking utterly appalled. “Yes! Can you believe it?”

  “Eva,” Lily began, “you’re a lovely woman, and he obviously finds you attractive. Take it for the compliment it is. It doesn’t mean you have to accept his invitation. I understand it’s a bit awkward because of his professional—”

  “It’s not that, Lily.” Eva shook her head. “I don’t mind that part. What I mind is the audacity of the man. He’s only been widowed a few years! Has he gotten over his wife so quickly? What does that say about him? Why would I want to get involved with someone who gets over someone else so quickly?”

  Expectant eyes fastened on Lily, and she straightened, her back as rigid as her seat. She squelched an eye-roll. “Everyone, let’s talk about the grieving process again. As we’ve discussed, there isn’t a set timetable. Some of us move on quickly, while some of us never move on. It doesn’t mean we didn’t love just as much as the next person. Think of those who have lost their husband or wife who never marry again because they were in an abusive relationship and don’t want a repeat. If you judged based on the length of time they remained single, you’d say that person loved their spouse more, which just isn’t true. On the other hand, you might see someone who marries within six months. Maybe that person had such a wonderful marriage that they want to do it again. So you see, everyone has a journey unique to them, and we shouldn’t judge based on how long the grieving process takes within us. Does that make sense?”

  The thought niggled that Lily was a harsh judge of her own grieving process, that she should listen to her own counsel, but she quickly dismissed it, instead watching the bobbing heads surrounding her.

  “It’s not at all unusual for a widower to seek companionship at this stage,” she continued. “On average, they remarry sooner than widows.”

  “Well,” Eva huffed, “I still can’t see myself becoming romantically involved so soon.”

  “Which is perfectly fine,” Lily said, “because you’re on the timetable that works for you, Eva.”

  Though Lily’s lips were ti
pped in a smile, she let shame claw its way up from her gut. Eva had been widowed longer than she, yet Lily had let herself fall into bed with a hot hockey player mere hours after meeting him! And here she was, getting all warm and fuzzy about enmeshing her life with his, and all the while her undeniable physical attraction to him was mounting.

  “I hope you let him down easy, Eva,” Brett laughed. “If you reacted to him the way you’re reacting with us, you probably just shattered a fragile ego. It’ll take him another few years to ask out someone else.”

  Eva struck a prim pose. “I was extremely polite.”

  The mood lightened, allowing Lily to shove down her self-flagellation while recovering herself. As the discussion came to a close, a last thought flared before she doused it: Was it so wrong for her mind to sometimes take a flight back to how good it had felt lying in Gage’s arms? To feel the solid strength of a man’s embrace?

  Though it wasn’t late, Eva waited while she locked up. Since Gage’s appearance in the parking lot, Brett no longer tried to corner Lily, for which she was grateful. She was pretty sure he’d been shocked and intimidated by Gage’s presence. And if he believed Gage was a love interest, she wasn’t about to set him straight—the illusion kept things simpler.

  “I really admire you, Lily,” Eva said as they walked to their cars.

  Lily didn’t hide her delight. “Thank you, Eva. That means a lot. I hope these sessions are helping.”

  “They are, but that’s not what I meant.”

  Lily paused and frowned. Eva dropped her voice, as if an unwelcome audience listened in. “What I meant was, I admire you because you’re remaining true to your husband’s memory. Oh, I know the others say you’re young and you should get on with your life, but I say good for you! By not rushing out there, you’re showing the world how much you loved him. I can relate to that.”

  Did she hear nothing I said?

  Eva gave her a quick hug. “The world needs more loyal people like us, Lily.”

  Is waiting four years rushing it?

  Lily climbed into her car in a muddled daze, trying to muster Jack’s face as she drove. Without looking at a picture, his image in her mind’s eye grew blurrier every day. As she’d done with Derek the week before, she concentrated hard to recall the exact shade of Jack’s eyes. Two mismatched blue orbs popped into her head instead, and her guilt consumed her once more.

  What was wrong with her?

  When she got home, she marched straight to the rogues’ gallery in the hallway and stared at the pictures hanging there. In some, Jack’s eyes looked blue. In others, gray. In a few, they even appeared hazel. She grew frustrated trying to remember their color and flipped off the light.

  She turned on an eighties station, poured herself a healthy glass of wine, and settled into her couch. Despite the music playing in the background, the house enveloped Lily in suffocating silence. Daisy was at Derek’s tonight, and every wailing creak and lonely cry echoed around her.

  God, she needed a distraction, or she’d spend another sleepless night thrashing in bed, trying to sharpen her dimming memories of Jack, keeping them alive for Daisy as much as herself—except Daisy hadn’t asked about him in ages. What had he smelled like? She shuffled to her closet and stuck her nose in one of his shirts. The scent was faint, elusive. She slid it from the hanger, shrugged it on, and wrapped it around herself, inhaling the collar. She’d lost the smell.

  Gage’s fresh, masculine scent drifted in her mind, firing an inappropriate tickle inside her. She pressed her fists into her belly.

  How had her body fit Jack’s? What had it felt like to wind her arms around him? Splintered memories, like tattered dreams, streaked through her mind. She couldn’t recall, but she knew exactly where her head nestled on Gage’s warm chest.

  “This is ridiculous!” She stomped to the kitchen and filled her wineglass. “I’ll call Ivy.” But Ivy was at work and wouldn’t be able to talk Lily off of her present path. It was too late for Lily to call their parents, and she’d just traded news with them the day before anyway.

  Loneliness was getting the best of her, and her mind leapt to calling Gage. But no, that might be weird. Plus, he was playing out of town.

  Call Derek? Besides the girls, what would they talk about?

  She palmed her forehead. God, she was pathetic.

  Fisting the stem of her wineglass, she pulled in a few cleansing breaths. A familiar, haunting tune started up. George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” seemed to climb in volume and surround her. As soon as his voice reached the part about guilty feet, tears welled, coming hot and fast, overwhelming the hollow space inside her. She folded over. Sobs racked her body as anguish swamped her.

  When would it ever stop?

  Time passed—she had no idea how long—and her phone chirped. Brushing the wetness from her chin and cheeks, she glanced at it, and a warm flood of relief washed through her when she realized it was from Gage.

  About to take off and just wanted to see how your group went tonight.

  A laugh escaped through her tears. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so alone.

  Gage took a seat beside T.J. on the team plane, feeling as haggard as T.J. looked, before thumbing Lily a quick text.

  He pointed at T.J.’s smartphone screen. “More Roman history?”

  T.J. grunted in response.

  “I know just how you feel,” Gage replied.

  “Jesus, it’s been a long trip. I can’t wait to get home and sleep in my own bed tonight … with my own wife.”

  Gage arched an eyebrow. “As opposed to someone else’s wife?”

  “Shut up, Nelson. You know what I mean.”

  From behind them, Hunter groused, “Losing tonight’s game was not the ending I’d been hoping for. Shit, all we do is trade the number one spot with Arizona. We can’t seem to hold on to it for more than a few hours.”

  One row ahead sat Grims. The Grim Reaper twisted in his seat and gave them all the stink-eye. “It’s one game, boys. One game. Let it go.”

  “It’s a tight race,” Gage nodded, “but look at it this way: Arizona’s pushing us, reminding us we need to bring our A-game. Every. Single. Night.”

  “You saying I don’t bring my best game every night, Nelson?” Hunter challenged.

  Grims’s hand had been resting on the back of the seat, and he flicked it at Gage while he fixed his gaze on Hunter. “Listen to the man, moron. That’s not what he said.”

  “I did listen, asshole! And that’s what’s pissing me off!”

  Grims unbuckled and rose quickly. So did Hunter.

  T.J. and Gage both moved, standing at the same time. T.J.’s hand splayed across Hunter’s chest in the blink of an eye while Gage’s shot to Grims’s arm.

  T.J. stared daggers at Hunter. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? You don’t talk to your captain that way. Now sit the fuck down.”

  Other than the humming engines, the interior of the plane had gone dead quiet. No one moved.

  “Not much of a captain,” Hunter grumbled.

  Gage turned his body, blocking Grims behind him, as T.J. shoved Hunter backward into his seat. “What did you say?”

  Hunter muttered, “Nothing.”

  “Keep it that way,” T.J. snapped.

  Grims had been pressing into Gage and now snarled, “Next time, McMurphy, keep your fucking mouth shut so everyone won’t know what a dumb fuck you really are.”

  Gage swiveled his head to Grims. His eyes were wild. Gage had never seen him like that, and for a split second he wondered if he’d need to defend himself against his captain. He lowered his voice. “Maybe you should take a seat, Cap, so we can all get home?”

  Grims’s eyes blazed for another beat before they seemed to flicker. He gave Gage a jerky nod and dropped into his seat.

  Gage let out a breath and exchanged a what-the-fuck-was-that glance with T.J. as they retook their seats. T.J. shrugged, shoved in his earbuds, and closed his eyes.

  A few minutes passed, and
Quinn, who sat across the aisle from Gage, craned his neck in Hunter’s direction and grinned. “Hunts, when we get home, let’s get you laid, bud. That’s what I plan to do. I’m pretty sure I’ll come to practice on Saturday with a song in my heart”—he sang out the last four words—“and a whole new attitude.” Then he broke into a really bad rendition of Patti LaBelle’s “New Attitude,” making everyone chuckle.

  Just like that, the ice was broken.

  “Jesuuus, Hadley. Didn’t you get enough in Detroit?” one player called out.

  Quinn picked up a trio of bean bags he always had with him and started juggling. “Is there such a thing as ‘enough’? Besides, that was two nights ago.”

  Hunter guffawed. “Which bunny did you tap?”

  “Which time?” Quinn shot back.

  Gage tracked the bean bags, fascinated by how Quinn kept them in the air. Gage had tried, multiple times, and had never gotten the hang of it.

  Grims, the only guy who wasn’t amused by the banter, growled something indecipherable. Gage tapped him on the shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” he barked.

  Whoa! Gage sat back. “Easy, dude.”

  “He was just being nice,” Quinn joked. “It’s what Nelsy does.” He sent Gage a wink.

  Grims turned in his seat. “Just shut the fuck up, Hadley.”

  Quinn was still smiling when he said, “What’s gotten into you, Grims?”

  “Shit, I don’t know, Hadley. Could it be your face?”

  Quinn dropped the bean bags and opened his mouth, but Gage prodded his shoulder and shook his head. In a booming voice, he said, “We’ll all get some rest, blow off some steam. We’ll have a good practice Saturday and take it to Arizona Sunday.”

  Hunter piped up. “So Hadley’s gonna spend a few days in the sack. What’re your plans, Nelsy?”