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

by G. K. Brady

  “Why do things have to go anywhere?” she said in a near-whisper to keep it from coming out in a squawk. “Can’t they just stay the way they are?”

  He twirled his now-empty juice glass. “I spoke to Grandma yesterday. She was having a lucid day, and we talked a long time. Before she zoned out, she said something that’s had me thinking ever since.” He caught her eyes with his. “Life’s short. You grab and go, and you hang on. Full-out. You probably know this better than anyone with what you’ve been through.”

  “I don’t follow.” And she didn’t.

  Sadness was mirrored in his eyes. He shook his head. “Never mind.”

  A need to touch him had her running her foot up his leg. She yearned to pull him in tight and know they hadn’t lost their connection.

  “So … we have an hour before we have to pick up Daisy. You wanna,” she lifted her chin toward the stairs and gave him what she thought was an alluring smile, “you know?”

  What the hell am I doing? She was swinging from one extreme to another with dizzying speed. One minute she wanted to flee, and the next she wanted to fuck. Her mental hopscotching was running roughshod over her. She wanted him because he made her feel alive like no one else ever had. She didn’t want him because that same intimacy was crushing her.

  In a very un-Gage-like move, he pulled his leg away, gathered up their dishes, and made for the sink. “Maybe later, beautiful.”

  “So … no bath either?”

  He began rinsing the dishes, a half-smile on his face. “A bath with you will take much longer than an hour.”

  Right. At the sink, she nudged him with her hip. “You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.”

  Without protest, he sat back at the counter, picked up his phone, and began scrolling.

  “What time does your plane leave tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Hmm?” He didn’t look up.

  She turned and perched her hands on her hips. “Your road trip? When do you leave?”

  Blue eyes rose to hers, then darted back to his phone. “Early afternoon. You’re still okay checking on Hobbes?”

  “Yes. And you’re back a week from Wednesday?”

  “Yep.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Wednesday’s when Derek’s band is performing.”

  “You’ve decided to do it, I take it?”

  “I told him I’m in. Will you come watch us?”

  He raised his head and blinked. She was almost hoping for a little Derek-directed animosity, a glimpse of the caveman, but nothing like that showed in his expression. “Uh, yeah. Of course. Just send me the details. Shouldn’t be a problem to head your way after I land.”

  Head back down, both thumbs now worked his phone.

  Miffed, she couldn’t stop herself. “What’s so interesting?”

  He turned off the screen and set the phone down. “Nothing.” Bringing his full six-foot-one frame upright, he stood and stretched. “I’m gonna skip Carla’s class and get in a workout today instead. With playoffs right around the corner, I need to concentrate on my training.” He trotted toward the stairs. “I’ll grab a quick shower, and then we’ll go.”

  Wow! And, Lily, you’re not invited.

  She nodded at his back, wondering what the hell kind of wall had just slammed between them. In the background, a familiar melody piqued her ears. “Have I Told You Lately?”—Jack’s and her song—played.

  An arrow embedded itself in her heart, and she folded over, desperate for breath as tears rushed into her throat.

  Chapter 30

  Grabbing a Gear on the Stick Shift of Life

  Gage let the water sluice over his body, hoping it would wash away the anger, confusion, and hurt pulsing inside him.

  He’d believed there was more between Lily and him, but he’d made the same mistake the first time too. Never should have admitted how I feel. Instead of grabbing the damn stick shift of life, he’d stripped the gears and ground everything to a halt.

  Apparently, he was the only one who’d fallen.

  Add to it the Grims gorilla sitting on his chest, and Gage felt as though he’d been gut-checked.

  He took his time in the shower, trimmed his beard, clipped his nails—to avoid facing Lily. Looking at her hurt too much, which was why he’d buried his nose in his phone, checking crap like weather and NHL standings. Also why he was skipping yoga.

  What did Lily want from him?

  Yeah, sex was off the charts, but was that it for her? He should be thankful. Go with the flow, right? The hottest sex of his life, and all he had to do was show up.

  Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.

  Thing was, he could have that now, with lots of women. But he didn’t want lots of women. He wanted Lily. All of Lily. Her body, her mind, and most of all, her heart. He wanted her to feel for him what she felt for Jack. Anything less was too hard. So was holding himself back.

  He did want to claim her as his so the dickheads of the world knew they didn’t have a shot, damn it!

  And there was Daisy. Somewhere along the way, he’d fallen for that little girl too. He wanted to be more than “Mr. Cage.” He wanted to protect her, step in if kids bullied her, threaten to mangle any boys who came sniffing around. He wanted to be that guy. And right now Derek had a solid grasp on that position. Fucking Derek.

  These thoughts and what the fuck he was going to do about Grims went through the meat grinder in his mind on the ride to Ivy and Parker’s house. Lily busily worked over her thumbnail beside him in the passenger seat, giving it all her interest.

  He wandered back to her nightmare and how her demeanor had flipped a switch afterward. What the hell had it been about? He’d probably never find out because she wouldn’t share that either.

  Maybe this break was for the best, he told himself. Get some distance, take some time. Cool things off for a week. Solve his Grims conundrum. Get his head screwed on right and get his mojo back. Mentally prepare for playoffs.

  The team needed him at a hundred percent now more than ever.

  He had to make this all work.

  Daisy kept him entertained on the way to Lily’s with a recap of her mites’ “season.” It had ended the Saturday before, and she was jabbering about ways to “up her game” next year and what did Mr. Cage think about this and that. He continually slid his gaze to the rearview just to watch her as she ran on, her silver eyes sparkling and her smile brightening her face like a high-beam light shone on it. How her curls bounced. She sprinkled her narrative with little girl giggles that nearly undid him.

  He parked and walked the girls inside. Lily gave him sad eyes, so he followed her into the kitchen while Daisy skipped to her room to put her “babies to bed.” Her babies, as far as Gage could tell, consisted of a once-pink bunny, a well-loved doll, and something that resembled an armadillo.

  In Lily’s kitchen, he stood transfixed by the way she attacked her counters. Without glancing up, she said, “Will I see you tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Depends on you.”

  She stopped buffing to face him, a little scowl forming on her face. “What does that mean?”

  Daisy startled them when she bounced in. “Mr. Cage, wanna see my new books?”

  He crossed the room, and leaned down to her. “Help me out here, kiddo. How do I get you to call me something besides Mr. Cage?”

  “I don’t know,” she giggled. An idea seemed to flash, and she grabbed his hand with her tiny one. “What’s your middle name?”

  He dropped into a one-kneed crouch so they were eye to eye. “Mitchell.”

  Her body began rocking, and her eyes took a tour around the room. “I can call you Mitchell,” Daisy proclaimed.

  “No, you really can’t. Not even my mom calls me Mitchell.” He squeezed her hand in his. “Besides, if you can say ‘Mitchell,’ you can say ‘Gage,’ princess.” He quirked an eyebrow at her and gave her shirt a tug.

  Lily’s head snapped up from the counter, and she train
ed a strange look on him. Is it not okay to tell her to call me Gage?

  “Gaaage,” Daisy finally said, drawing out the a. “Gage,” she added with a head bob, as if putting the final dot on an i.

  He popped his eyes dramatically. “Wow! I like how you say it.” Cocked an ear. “Say it again?”

  “Gage!”

  “Nice!” He held up his palm. “Five up high.”

  She smacked his hand hard.

  He lowered his palm. “Five in the middle.” She obliged him with another smack and a giggle.

  “Five down low.”

  A final smack. “Too slow!” she cried triumphantly.

  A laugh rolled through his chest. “That’s not how it works, princess.”

  “You didn’t move your hand fast enough.”

  Without warning, she launched herself at him, nearly knocking him off balance, and wrapped her skinny little arms around his neck. Stunned, he enveloped her and lifted his gaze to Lily, who stood frozen, her eyes wide like a proverbial deer caught in the headlights. Daisy burrowed her head into his chest, her tiny hand patting his back as she whispered, “I love you, Gage.”

  Thunk! Shot straight through the heart. He recovered and did the first thing that occurred to him. He dropped a kiss on Daisy’s curls and whispered back, “I love you too, princess.”

  The moment was broken the instant she wiggled out of his arms and scampered away. Gage rose to his feet. Lily’s eyes were still locked on him, her lower lip wobbling. She wiped moistness from her cheeks. Two strides and he was beside her.

  “Hey. What’s all this?” His fingers brushed her tears. “I don’t know what’s going on here, and it’s scaring me. Let me in. Please.”

  In his second surprise in that kitchen, Lily threw her arms around him and clung tightly. Helpless to figure out what the hell was happening, he held her close, stroking her back until she pulled away.

  “Jack,” she rasped, then cleared her throat, “Jack used to call her his princess.”

  Why did everything circle back to Jack? Gage pushed her curls away from her face and grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Should I not call her that? Tell me what to do here.”

  Tears still rimming and spilling, she shoved at his shoulder playfully. “No, you big lug. I mean, yes. You can call her princess.”

  Bewildered, he smiled tentatively. Big lug is good, I think.

  With a shuddering sigh, she looked up at him. God, he wished he could read what was going through her head. Her eyes were like windows in a car that was speeding so fast the scenes flew by in a blur and you couldn’t pick out a damn thing. To say she was sending mixed signals was the understatement of the century. He grasped at the ones he most wanted to latch on to.

  Resting his forehead against hers, he held her. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, or what I’ve done wrong, but there’s something I need to say.”

  “Okay,” she sniffed.

  Heart thudding in his chest, Grandma whispering that he should grab that next gear, he drew in a calming breath. “I love Daisy’s mama too.”

  Lily stiffened. He’d blown it.

  She wriggled away, putting a huge gap between them. Her lashes were clumped in tears, like star points surrounding her eyes. “You’re so good with her, and I just … I wish I could … I’m so mixed up.”

  His heart physically hurt, as though someone had pounded nails into it. He told himself to give her space. But he wasn’t sure he could keep convincing himself it would change anything.

  “Lily,” his voice broke, “you may as well put the ring back on your finger because you’re still wearing it. Will you ever let go?”

  Tearful turned to angry. “That’s not fair.”

  From the living room came a question as innocent as it was devastating. “Are you gonna marry my mom, Gage?”

  Two sets of eyes were on him. Hopeful gray ones and frightened blue ones. He drummed his fingers against his heart, searching for an answer. If the daughter falls for you, she’ll bring the mom along.

  “I’d like to someday, princess.” He swung his gaze to Lily. “But only if your mom wants to.” There. He’d said it.

  Daisy covered her mouth and giggled behind her hands. Then she hopped in place as though she were on a mini trampoline. “I’m gonna go tell my babies!” She ran through her father’s shrine toward her room.

  When Gage looked back at Lily, her wide eyes sparked. “What?” He braced himself for the buffeting coming his way.

  “How could you say that in front of her? Don’t you think you should have at least talked to me before you put it out there in front of her?”

  Once again, he’d blown it, and his heart caved. “I was just saying it like it is.”

  Lily’s voice rose. “She’s just a little girl! I don’t want her getting her hopes up and having them crushed.”

  He frowned. “What makes you think her hopes will be crushed?”

  “She’s already lost her father.”

  Confusion and frustration ramped up inside him. It’s always about Jack. He felt as though he were fighting his way out of a choke hold that constricted the harder he pushed against it. “Losing her father has nothing to do with me.”

  Lily blew out a long breath. “You don’t get it.”

  “Call me obtuse, but no, I don’t. Can you spell it out for me?” He tried to keep the grit from his tone.

  She rubbed her forehead. “Maybe we should save this discussion for another time.”

  “Like when, Lily?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re dodging me.”

  “And you’re pushing me.”

  He put his hands up. “I gotta get to the rink.” With a resigned sigh, he headed for her door.

  Another storm awaited him.

  Grims was squirting water in his mouth beside the bench. He gave Gage a toothless grin. “Good workout, Admiral.”

  Gage had been in the training room when Grims walked in, and he’d invited his captain to join him on the ice. Gage had taken out his frustrations on each and every puck, and now he was cooling down, catching his breath beside Grims. No one else was around.

  “Hey, did you ever get things worked out with your MILF?”

  Suddenly, Gage was seeing red. Lily wasn’t a MILF. She was … a sweet, mixed-up mom of a little girl he adored as much as he adored her. He knew he hadn’t handled things well, but shit, he just couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t let go.

  He wiped sweat from his forehead with the hem of his jersey. “She’s not my MILF.”

  “Oh. Sorry, man.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Gage grumbled. Maybe the red he was seeing was because of the guy standing next to him. He looked at Grims dead-on. “How long have you been juicing?”

  Grims’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Who says I’m juicing?”

  “I know you get your shit from Bobby, and I know Bobby’s jacking with Hunter because Hunter found out.”

  Grims pulled at some tape on his blade. “Hunter’s a fucktard, and you believe him?”

  Gage hadn’t wanted to believe Hunter, but after he’d run what he knew through an objective filter, he’d come to the gut-wrenching conclusion the guy had been telling the truth. Which sucked. It would have been so much easier to blame Hunter and keep his image of Grims intact.

  Gage puffed out a breath. “I won’t argue that he’s a fucktard, but I believe him, Grims.”

  Grims stared at him for several long beats, and Gage could’ve sworn anger, chased by regret, flashed in his eyes. “So, Boy Scout, what do you plan on doing with his story?”

  Gage leaned on his stick. “You admit it?”

  “I’m admitting nothing.”

  Gage nodded. “I’m not sure, Grims.” And that was the truth. Though he’d wrestled mightily with the dilemma, Gage had yet to pick the lesser of two evils—but he needed to decide soon. He was hosed if he did, hosed if he didn’t, and he resented the hell out of being dead center in this clust
er-fuck. His choices were to keep his mouth shut and let the team roll into the playoffs with its captain or tell Coach and watch his club implode. Either option made him sick to his stomach. “I just want what’s best for the team.”

  Grims’s eyes flicked to Gage’s. “So do I. Where you and I differ, though, is that I understand how one false move could tear this club apart. But hey, don’t let that get in the way of what your conscience tells you, Boy Scout.”

  And there, in so many words, was the heart of Gage’s conundrum.

  What his conscience told him to do was follow the rules, which included seeing that others did too. A level playing field. No cheaters.

  But the right way sure as shit didn’t feel right. If he outed Grimson, shit would hit the fan and cause a ripple the team wouldn’t recover from before the start of playoffs. Everyone would get hurt. Gage would be labeled a snitch, and no one would want to play with him again. On the other hand, letting it go was the same as covering it up. He’d be aiding and abetting, becoming part of the doping problem, making him as dirty as Grimson. And where would it end?

  What he really wanted was to un-see everything, but that wasn’t an option. Too bad it wasn’t that simple.

  Grims was watching him, his expression sad, weary. Where Gage had been pissed, he suddenly felt a pang of sympathy, even though Grims had brought it on himself. Brought it on all of us. His anger climbed back up.

  Quinn walked up the chute, seemingly unaware of the tension. “Hey, you guys wanna grab a beer?”

  Gage considered his empty house. He also considered compartmentalizing his anger—for now—for the sake of the team. His club was gonna need all it could get to survive whatever fallout was headed its way. Eyes on Grimson, he said, “Why not?”

  “Grims?” Quinn said.

  Grims gave Gage another long look. “Yeah, Hads. I’m in.”

  Forty-five minutes later, they were halfway through their second round when Grims’s girlfriend, Nicole, walked into the bar, another woman on her heels.

  Grims stood to kiss Nicky, who shot him a flinty look—things rocky at home?—before leaning in to kiss the other woman’s cheek. “Hey, Kendra,” he said quietly.