Sin Shot: Vegas Crush #2

by Miller, Raine

  A few moments later, Evan pads in, wearing his flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He is a gorgeous specimen of a man, I must admit. He leans over the back of the couch and plants a thorough kiss on her lips.

  "I'm always on your side, baby," he says softly, grinning. "But you really do need to let go and just enjoy this time off. You've worked hard and you deserve it."

  "Oh, don't try to butter me up," she snaps, but she's fighting a grin.

  Evan sets a pint of ice cream and a spoon on her big belly and says, "I wasn't trying to butter you up. Not even a little."

  Holly gives him a huge smile and scoots herself up, ready to ravage that little pint of ice cream. "Okay," she announces as she shoves a big spoonful in her mouth. "You're forgiven. For the moment."

  "You guys are giving me a toothache," I comment. "I might need to leave before I lose all my teeth."

  "Marry Georg and you, too, can be sickeningly sweet," Holly says.

  This makes Evan laugh. "That seems like putting the horse behind the cart, or whatever that rubbish expression is."

  "Putting the cart before the horse," Holly corrects through a spoonful of vanilla bean.

  "Whatever." Evan sticks his tongue out at her. "They're not even dating." He turns toward me with a curious expression and asks, "Are you?"

  I shrug. "We had dinner out one night and he went home with a panic attack. Then he apologized and we made dinner at my house. But since then? A few flirty texts. A few words at work. Otherwise, nothing."

  "Do you think he's spooked?" Holly asks.

  "He likes her for sure," Evan says. "But yeah, probably. A little. I mean, he's worried he's going to get traded. He's trying to do the clean-living thing. And his agent is a flake. So, it might not be a good time for him to get in a relationship."

  "Has he ever been in a relationship?" Holly asks.

  Evan thinks about this. "Not in a long time. Nothing serious, anyway."

  "We're alike that way," I say. "Which makes me think that this may have just run its course."

  "It doesn't always have to be like that," Holly argues. "Sometimes you can tame the beast."

  Evan refills my wine glass and his own. He winks at Holly and she blushes. They're married and she's nine months pregnant, and she's blushing when he winks at her. I feel like I'm intruding in some kind of weird foreplay.

  "But if he leaves for another team, then what's the point anyway?" I ask, my head falling back against the comfy chair I'm occupying.

  "Are you falling for him?" Holly asks. Great question.

  Am I? I’ve never been in love or thought I’d get there either. But I told Georg something I’ve hidden as if it was a dirty secret. And instead of laughing at me or thinking there was something wrong with me, he treated my virginity as something sacred, and that wasn’t expected. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone like Georg before, and given how much I think about him, sexting or not, that scares me.

  "I mean…yeah. I think I am," I admit. "Which sucks."

  "Well, I think you should tell him," she says. "Just tell him. And if he feels the same, you can make it work."

  "It's not that simple, Holls."

  "It is that simple. Even if he gets traded, you can still do the long-distance thing. Or get a job closer to him. You're good at what you do. You can go anywhere and do it."

  "Babe," Evan says softly. "Calm down. They have to figure out their own thing. Just like we did."

  Evan's sitting at the other end of the couch with her legs in his lap. Although he's got a wine glass in one hand, his other is gently rubbing her thigh. I love how they can't seem to keep their hands off one another.

  "I'd better head home," I say, standing up. "It's super late. Thanks for the drink and the talk."

  "Call me tomorrow," Holly says.

  I nod and head for the door, plugging in a request for a driver as I do. I have a feeling those two are still finding ways to have sex, even though that baby is about to come out. They’re so happy and their happiness makes me both sad and hopeful. Holly was really hurting from her breakup with soccer boy at the end of college. She was sure she'd never find love again. That she'd never be happy again. And then Evan fell into her life and she tried not to love him. But here they are, married, happy, moving their lives forward.

  Could I be so lucky? After the abuse when I was young, and then the years of pushing men away before they got too close, could I ever find someone who loves me the way Evan loves Holly? Who looks at me the way he looks at her?

  And could I ever open myself up enough to let him in?

  Seventeen

  Georg

  NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED

  “Ned, this is Devon."

  "Nice to meet you, Ned," Devon says extending her hand.

  Ned, for his part, looks a little dazed by the gorgeous woman in front of him. He takes her hand to shake it but can't seem to come up with anything coherent to say. She's used to it, I'm sure.

  We're at a small restaurant off the Strip. It's a comfortable Italian place that has tall, private booths. I picked it because it's time for an intervention. If I’m honest, I didn’t want to do this, but Devon is both soft-hearted and logical. She believes in second chances, and even though the man in front of me has pissed me off more than pleased me in the last few months, I’m trusting in her judgment on this one. I need better handling to reach my goals…and maybe he does too. And if there is any chance of having anything with Pam, I need to stay in Vegas.

  We sit and order a light lunch. Ned orders a double Scotch on the rocks.

  As we wait on our meals, I say, "Ned, I want more than what you’re doing. You get that, right?"

  Ned nods. Beads of sweat have formed on his forehead. He uses his napkin to wipe at them, messing up his combover.

  "You're not sober, and it clouds your ability to do your job," I say. "Devon is the team’s nutritionist and she's been helping me clean up my act."

  Ned looks around wildly. He looks like a trapped bird. "I don't need—"

  "Don't tell us you don't need rehab," I start. "You used to have a great reputation but your athletes are going to other agents."

  "Are you?" he asks.

  "Maybe. Probably. You got me this gig, and I’m thankful. I want to help you."

  "Ned," Devon says, "do you have a family?"

  He pushes his lips together and frowns. "They don't speak to me," he admits.

  "And why is that, do you think?"

  "Because they say I drink too much, ruin stuff." He straightens up a bit. "Look, I'm not perfect but I do okay. I don't need to go to rehab." The man is delusional, but a part of me gets it. Before we won the cup, I didn’t believe I had a problem either. I thought I could do my job and drink and fuck to my heart’s content. I’m not an alcoholic, but the dark side of drinking wasn’t far from what I craved daily. But not anymore. Ned’s got a team of people who could handle his business if he went away for a while. Whether he’d consider doing that is up to him.

  "You may not think you need rehab, but from my side, watching you offer shit all in meetings, you do. You’ve got Len and Rosemary who can run your business while you’re gone. But you’ll lose it all if you keep going as you are." He’s sweating and shaking his head, but there’s something in his expression that makes me believe he’s listening. Maybe he’s hit rock-bottom and we’re just a voice of reason at the right time. God, one can hope. "It’s up to you, Ned."

  Our food comes and Ned grasps his drink like it's a life raft. We let him have it, talking about my career goals as we eat. Ned frowns the whole time, and I can tell he's not comprehending everything I'm asking him to do. It's only when we're almost done eating that he says, "I can't provide all of that."

  "No, you can't," I agree. "That's the point. I need an advocate. I need someone ownership will listen to, who they respect. It may have been you at one point. Heck, I owe it to you for getting me onto the team in the first place. But now?"

  "Ned, I know you don’t kn
ow me, and don’t have to listen to anything I’m saying. But I’ve worked with men with high-stress jobs and have seen alcohol ruin lives and careers. The ball is in your court here." Devon’s voice is soft and calm, but also commands attention. It makes sense given her dual qualifications of psychologist and nutritionist.

  Ned sits for a long time, hands gripping that glass of Scotch so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally, he nods. "I don’t agree I need rehab, but I could take a look at a place…if you’ve heard of somewhere. But I need to call my team first."

  "Yes, you do," I say. “Devon has a clinic she’s referred people to before, and she rang them before we came here. They’ll meet you today.” He doesn’t look completely convinced, but he has his cell phone out.

  "Right, well…I need to call Len, and then…then I guess I could take a look."

  Ned sits for a long time, hands gripping that glass of Scotch so tightly his knuckles turn white. Finally, he nods. "Fine. I'll go."

  We square things with the restaurant and load Ned into Devon's car. There is a rehabilitation facility about twenty minutes outside of Las Vegas, and we drive him there, help him check in before riding back to town.

  "Do you think I should have stayed with him?" I ask.

  "What? No." Devon shakes her head.

  "I mean, do you think I should have checked in there, as well?"

  "Hmm…" She seems to choose her words carefully before she continues, "I feel you know your own body and your own heart, Georg. And if the desire to do all of those things you talked about at lunch with Ned outweighs the desire to drink, then I would have to say no."

  "Good." I breathe a sigh of relief. "A very good answer. Thank you. And thank you for helping with Ned."

  "It's what friends are for," she answers. "You did a good thing today."

  * * *

  "Georgie," Bud says as he ambles toward me in the hallway. His beer belly stretches out the Crush polo shirt he wears. "How's it hangin' today?"

  "Good. I'm glad I ran into you, though. I'd like to sit down with you and Max and whoever else. I keep hearing trade rumors and I just put my agent into a rehab facility, so I'm on my own to manage things right now. I'd really like to talk about this with you all before a decision gets made."

  "Oh, well," Bud stammers. "You know, those decisions are complicated. Budget and distribution of talent…"

  "I helped take this team to the championship," I say. "Evan and I work well as a team. No one knows his style of play like I do."

  "Well, I hear you, I really do, but I can't stop a moving train," he answers, his face turning red.

  "So, does that mean a trade is imminent, Bud?"

  "It's on the table, yes." It's the most direct thing I've ever heard him say.

  "Well, I want to see Max," I say.

  He sighs heavily. "I'll try to set something up for you."

  I know he's just trying to placate me. Probably trying to get away from this conversation as fast as possible. "I'm serious," I say sharply. "I deserve a meeting before a decision is made."

  He nods. "Okay, yeah. I hear you, big guy."

  Big guy? I want to fucking puke right here in the hall.

  He must see murder in my eyes because his face goes an even deeper shade of red. He blinks. "I'll get something on the books."

  And then he's gone, toddling down the hallway, probably off to tell Max I'm a nut job who needs to be gone yesterday.

  I make my way to the locker rooms, ready to suit up for our third straight home game. My head is all over the place.

  "You okay there, bruv?" Evan asks.

  "Just a lot on my mind right now," I say. "I'll be fine once we hit the ice."

  "What's going on?"

  "A trade in the works, and I just put Ned into rehab."

  "Did you call Scott?"

  "I did. He was out of the country and said he'd call me back when he gets back next week. Might be too late then."

  Evan swears and then tells me it will all work out. I want to believe him. I choose to believe him, at least for now, since my team needs me to have my head in the game.

  After pre-game rituals, we skate out on the ice. The lights are crazy and the crowd is wound up and loud. They're happy to see us winning again. The sound of a full house really puts my mind in the right place, and my play reflects that.

  Coach has Viktor and I out on the ice together, now he knows we can play together without killing each other. We play well off each other, working hard to protect our goalie from another team that just comes out lobbing shots on goal like a machine. Coach chose to play three defensemen and two offensive players, so Viktor and I flank Tyler in the middle, while Evan and Mikhail play up top.

  We are stopping every single shot. Nothing is getting by us, and the crowd is crazy for it. The game is mostly defensive for us, up until the third period, when both Mikhail and Evan score two goals each. We win four to nothing, and the sound in the arena is enough to make us go deaf.

  In fact, my ears are still ringing when I walk into the post-game press conference. Evan handles most of it, as he usually does, and he gives big props to the defensive line. The questioning goes to Tyler and Viktor, who are asked how they feel about getting traded to the Crush. They're both gracious, happy to be playing with the defending champions. Then they turn to me, saying there's a lot of talk I might be traded soon. I only answer that I'm hoping to stay, that our line is really gelling, and that I think it would throw off our balance to trade now. I talk about how hard I'm working for the team, how I'm in better shape than I've been in a while, and how I'm totally committed to being a strong player, no matter what.

  Evan pats me on the back, so I know I used the right catchwords. Near the end of the conference, though, I see him check his phone. He looks at me, eyes wide, and says, "I gotta get out of here. I'm about to become a dad."

  The press folks go nuts, and Evan races out the door to head to the hospital. As Fiona closes things out, Kacey King approaches me. She's in a tight purple dress and high heels and looks like she's moving in for the kill.

  "You played really well tonight, Georg."

  "Thanks."

  "I got all dressed up hoping you might want to go out for a drink?"

  "I'm good," I say. "Not really drinking these days."

  "Oh. Well, we could grab a bite to eat. Or, cut the preamble and just head back to my place?"

  "I'm not…available right now, Kacey. I've got a lot on my plate at the moment and no time for socializing. Sorry."

  Kacey's face looks like she just sucked on a lemon. She takes a big, dramatic breath, flips her blonde hair and says, "Well, call me if you change your mind."

  I definitely won't, but I don't tell Kacey that.

  Only one person can calm the absolute fucking anxiety I have about being traded. I need to hear her voice even if it's just for a minute.

  Once I'm in my car I pull up Pam's number and press the green call button. She sounds sleepy when she answers, but the words that come out of her mouth are golden. "Yes, Georg?" I do love it when she says my name.

  "Did I wake you up?"

  "Evan did just a few minutes ago. Holly is in labor so I guess I'll just stay up now and wait for news that I'm an aunt. I'm giving them their space at the hospital right now, but as soon as that baby arrives, I'll be heading over there to meet the little master or miss."

  "He got the call in the postgame press conference. It was quite the scene. I can't believe Evan is going to be a dad. I'm sure it's on all the sports news channels as we speak. Didn't you watch the game?"

  "I fell asleep in the second period, I must confess," she says, yawning softly. "Did we win?"

  "We did." I chuckle a little. She's cute when she's half asleep. "Lightning struck in the third. The first two were boring from a scoring perspective. I might have fallen asleep, too."

  "Sorry," she says with a sexy, hoarse laugh.

  "No need to be. I worked hard. No need to have anyone cheering me on."


  "Oh, don't be a baby. I'm sure there were a hundred women out there, cheering just for you."

  "Only one I was interested in, though."

  "Oh."

  "Pamela, can I take you out again?"

  "Umm... Sure?"

  "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes. I'd love to."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Okay."

  "Perfect. Sweet dreams, lovely Pamela."

  Eighteen

  Pam

  LINQ'D & LICKED

  “I can't believe we hit that," I exclaim on a stifled yawn. I didn't get much sleep once I knew Holly was in labor at the hospital. Evan was over the moon like all new parents must be. God, I can't even imagine how I'd be as a new mom. Adulting is hard enough on a good day, but add in another human being you're now responsible for meeting their every need on top of their very existence? Off-the-charts-terrifying.

  But Holly took it all in stride like a pro she is when she delivered their baby girl in the early hours of the morning. They named her Danya, which is very Russian and also the name of Evan's grandmother. I'm predicting she'll be a great beauty and Evan and Holly will have their hands full in about thirteen years with all the boys lined up to be her special "friend."

  Tired or not, I had no intention of canceling our date. After that sweet phone call from George last night asking me out? No way. I've missed him.

  As we take our winning chips to the counter to cash out, I ask, "How much did we win?"

  "Three thousand," Georg says. "You are the roulette queen."

  "What's next? Blow this money on tattoos?"

  "I'm down." He gives me one of those mischievous grins of his that should be illegal and says, "But, I have something else to show you first."

  He looks at his phone and nods to himself. "Yes, the timing is good."

  We walk a few blocks. The night is balmy for Las Vegas. People are everywhere. There are women in wedding dresses, people in costumes, tourists with fanny packs. The Strip really hits the jackpot if you're into people-watching.