by Grey , S. R.
My life really was missing something. I felt lonely all the time. I was ready, really ready to share my life with someone.
Ha, like that’ll ever happen.
Since we were in the locker room now that the game was over, Blake threw a towel over at me.
“What are you mumbling about over there, Sandlund?” he asked, laughing.
“Ah, it’s nothing.” I shrugged. “Just reviewing some plays in my head and talking out loud.”
Yeah, I wasn’t about to share my mushy, woe-is-me thoughts with the whole freaking team. The mood in the room was celebratory, as it should have been, what with our big win and all.
Smoothing back his jet-black hair, wet from showering, Blake said, “That sure was one hell of a game, right? Your battle behind the net was fucking stellar. You were strong on your skates, and it paid off for us.”
Not one to revel in my own success, I waved off the praise. “Nah, I was just doing my job as a defenseman.”
“Well,” Blake replied, “you just keep on doing that, okay?”
I gave him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”
More guys joined in the conversation then, and we chatted for a bit about our win There was also some good-natured ribbing on how I wasn’t one for hitting up the clubs and bars after the games.
“Let me guess, Sandlund,” someone yelled from the back of the locker room. “You’re heading straight over to the hotel, like usual.”
I ignored whoever the smartass was, but when Blake asked the same thing, I confirmed, “Yeah, I think I will just head back.”
“Aw, come on, Noel.” Blake shot me a pleading look. “Break from your usual routine just this once and come out with us.”
I ran my hand through my messy dark blond hair.
It made me think of how people in Sweden often mistook me for a native Swede. It wasn’t just the hair, though. I was also tall and had blue eyes. My grandparents hailed from Sweden, so it made sense.
And that’s when a little voice in my head chimed in about how my grandparents would want me to go out and enjoy the city, especially to celebrate my win.
Ah, what the hell.
Blowing out a breath, I said to Blake, “Where are you guys going?”
He looked pleased that I’d asked. “We’re just heading out to dinner, man. Nothing crazy.”
Hmm…
Most nights the boys went out clubbing after games. I wasn’t opposed to partying and having a good time, but at twenty-five, I was beginning to feel as if I’d been there, done that. I also really wanted to stay focused on hockey.
But since it was just dinner, I nodded and said, “Okay, count me in.”
A Necessary Plan
After spending the day holed up in my hotel room, I finally broke down and ordered room service for a late dinner.
Not only was I famished—I hadn’t eaten since the day before—but I felt like I should gather some intel so I could formulate a plan to get back to the US.
Nothing had changed; I wasn’t about to rely on my mom.
Lucky for me, the teenage kid who delivered the food was not immune to my feminine wiles.
One bat of my long dark lashes and a strategic flip of my shiny black hair, and the kid was putty in my hands.
When I asked him if there was anyone interesting staying in the hotel, he immediately replied, “Team USA has the whole second floor.”
“Team USA?” I cocked my head. “Do you mean the hockey team?”
There’d been a lot of coverage lately about some sort of a hockey championship being played in town.
“I sure do,” the kid confirmed.
Hmm, I could possibly work with this.
An all-male hockey team on the premises meant there’d be many guys to choose from—all young and around my age, most of them from NHL teams. I knew they’d all had lots and lots of money.
It was perfect.
Plus, bonus, every single one of them was from the good ole US of A.
Well, there were Canadians in the mix too. But that was close enough. At least we’d be talking the same continent.
All of those players would have to go home at some point after the championship games ended. Maybe I’d have a chance to get to know at least one of them well enough to convince him to buy me a ticket back to the States.
That’s it!
I absolutely had to do this—I had to make my own chance and get one of these hockey guys interested in me.
It shouldn’t be that hard. I was my mother’s daughter, after all. And I had my ways.
Coyly, I asked the kid what Team USA’s schedule looked like this week.
After a moment of thought, he replied, “I’m not sure. But I do know they played a game earlier today.”
“Oh, they did, did they?”
The wheels were a-turning.
“Yes, miss,” he said.
“Do you know if the players usually come straight back to the hotel after the games?”
If that were the case, I’d probably have to skip dinner. It would’ve been a shame, as I’d ordered a big juicy steak, salad, and boiled potatoes, putting it all on Gary’s handy tab, of course.
Thanks, Juice King.
Ugh, but the thought of the man who had caused my predicament made me feel ill. So much so that I felt compelled to give the side of lingonberries that had come with my dinner a dirty look.
The kid didn’t notice, thank God. He was too busy explaining how the Team USA guys usually went out after the games and arrived to the hotel much later.
“Like what time?” I asked.
“Around eleven or midnight,” he said.
Excellent.
I turned to check the clock by the bedside table. It was only a little after eight. I’d have plenty of time to eat and get ready.
I definitely wanted to spend more time on the “getting ready” part. I’d need to look my best to land a hot hockey dude.
Before the kid left, I gave him a huge tip on the receipt I had to sign.
He thanked me, and I told him, “Not a problem.”
I chuckled.
Hey, the Juice King could afford it.
Once I was all alone, I pulled the cart over to my king-sized bed and sat down on the edge so I could eat my dinner. There was a side room with a dining table and chairs, but eating in that room felt too formal.
“Maybe if I had someone to dine with,” I lamented.
But I didn’t, so this was it.
It wasn’t so bad. Everything was delicious, leading me to conclude that I’d have to treat myself more often.
On the Juice King’s dime, of course.
Prior to that evening, I’d been grabbing the free breakfast down at the hotel’s morning buffet, and then purchasing open-faced sandwiches from street vendors for lunch or dinner. I’d been using the little bit of cash I had converted to Swedish Krona.
Shrimp and cucumbers on dark rye bread were super yummy, I’d discovered. But they couldn’t compare to a real meal like the one I was devouring.
Once I was done, I felt satiated and ready to play my role.
I rolled the room service cart out into the hall and headed off to the bathroom, where I slipped out of my sweats and tee and settled into a luxurious bubble bath.
One thing for sure, the suite certainly was decadent.
In the big claw-footed tub, I began to formulate my plan, my necessary plan.
I’d head down to the hotel bar in about an hour. Once I was there, I’d secure a spot where any incoming players could clearly see me. Hopefully, a few of them would show up. It seemed likely, seeing as they all went out drinking after the games, or so the kid had said.
Someone always wanted the party to continue, right?
I sure as hell hoped so.
My next consideration was what to wear.
I had to garner the attention of a young, hot hockey player, so I’d need to look pretty damn good myself.
That meant something sexy was in order.
 
; How fortuitous that I’d packed a slinky black dress.
Ah, men were so easy.
I smiled as I popped a bubble in the tub.
Yep, if all went according to plan, I’d have that ticket home in no time.
Who’s That Girl?
Dinner with the guys turned out to be a lot more fun than I expected. I was glad I had tagged along. Still, when they announced that they were headed to some hip club, I opted to return to the hotel.
It was weird.
I’d just been in a real funk lately.
It wasn’t simply about getting older and not wanting to party. I just felt like something was missing in my life.
As I walked back to the hotel along the streets of Stockholm, I glanced around.
It was summertime and still daylight out, so the streets were full.
As I took an assessing glance this way and that, the people who stood out to me the most were the couples.
There were a lot of them, probably because it was Friday, a customary date night.
When an elderly pair holding hands strolled by me, something tugged in my chest.
It was my heart, longing for something more. I was done denying the truth. What that older couple had was what I wanted.
Once upon a time, I hadn’t cared one way or the other about relationships. Sure, I’d dated my share of women, many of whom were smart and beautiful, but I was always too busy with hockey to take things to the next level.
Truthfully, I hadn’t had the will or inclination to work on building a real relationship.
But I freaking wanted one now.
That was probably why, when I walked into the hotel lobby and saw the most stunningly beautiful girl heading into the bar, I followed her.
Who’s that girl?
Fuck, I had to find out.
I didn’t want to come off like a creeper, though. So when she sat down on one side of the long L-shaped oak bar, crossing her long, lithe legs in the process, I smoothly detoured to the short end.
It was perfect; I still had a great view of her.
And fuck, what a sight she was.
The captivating girl had the shiniest long raven hair I’d ever seen, flowing enticingly down her back. She had a really pretty face too. And her body, fuck, I wanted to do sinful things to every inch of it.
She was slender but curvy in all the right places, and rocking a dress made of some sort of clingy black crepe material. The dress had long sleeves and a high neck, but was super short.
Suffice it to say, it was sexy.
And so was she.
I ordered a vodka tonic when the bartender came around, thinking to hell with abstaining.
I needed a drink to settle my ass.
This woman excited me, and my male hormones were firing on all cylinders, urging me to get up and go over and talk with her.
I wanted to play it cool, though.
At least, initially.
There was always a chance she was meeting someone.
Yeah, that’d be real fucking smooth, Noel. Making a move on her just as her date walks in.
Talk about awkward.
So, yeah, no, there was no rush. I could bide my time.
I was glad I still had on the dark suit I’d worn to dinner. I wouldn’t have wanted to look like a bum.
I nursed my drink after it arrived, chuckling when I noticed how the bartender was taking every opportunity to talk to the stunning girl. Even when she had a full glass of wine in front of her, he checked in on her every other minute. The guy was clearly captivated by the gorgeous woman.
Who could blame him?
So was I.
I was sneaking in glances every chance I could.
Although I was pretty sly about it, so it didn’t matter. It helped that the bartender was keeping her preoccupied with his oh-so-blatant flirting.
The girl was smiling and engaging in conversation with him, but it seemed hollow. I sensed she wasn’t really into him.
Good.
Suddenly, my phone dinged.
I checked and saw it was Blake.
He wanted to know if I was interested in rejoining the boys. They were at a bar just down the road.
Was he kidding? I had better things to do.
Another time, I texted back.
Dude, you are so boring.
I laughed.
I didn’t feel “boring” at the moment. I knew any one of those fools would’ve loved to have been hanging at this bar, seated close to an absolutely stunning woman. It had to beat whatever the hell it was they were doing.
When I looked up from my phone, I noticed the girl was eyeing me curiously.
Interesting…
I’d been so worried about her busting me.
Maybe she wouldn’t have minded?
Hell, she was not only peering over at me, but was that a smile I detected?
Yes, yes it was.
The beautiful girl I’d followed in, in the hopes of having a chance to talk to, was definitely smiling over at me.
If that isn’t an invitation, I don’t know what is.
I Find My Mark
Oh, crap, the guy I was smiling at is getting up and coming over to me. Eek!
The gorgeous blond dude who was seated at the short end of the bar, sneaking in surreptitious glances my way, was definitely heading my way.
Help!
I wanted to get his attention, but now that I had it, I kind of panicked.
I had a plan, but implementing it wouldn’t be easy. I hated the idea of purposely misleading someone. I wasn’t that kind of sneaky bitch.
Maisie, get it together. You can’t mess this up.
This guy was my ticket home. And now he was my “mark.”
I decided as much after the friendly bartender informed me that my admirer from down the bar was one of the hockey players from Team USA. He also mentioned that the guy played for an NHL team, but he wasn’t sure which one.
When I pressed him, he said he thought it might be the Wolves. Since I wasn’t a big hockey fan, I had no idea which city that team was from.
Looked like I was about to find out.
I couldn’t believe things were set into motion so soon. It was like fate was on my side.
As the hockey dude approached, cool as could be, I rolled back my shoulders.
Yes, I could do this.
Not that I had much of a choice.
Money wasn’t going to up and appear out of nowhere. And I needed that damn plane ticket home. Mom was unreliable, and I had no desire to stick around in Stockholm all summer.
Ha, that was the best-case scenario.
If the accountant who monitored Juice King’s hotel activity discovered he wasn’t really staying in his suite, I’d be thrown out on my ass. Then I’d be homeless on the streets of a country where I didn’t even speak a lick of their language.
Shit, I have to get out of here.
Hockey dude was my best chance.
How bad could it be, anyway?
The guy was beyond hot, sexy too.
I saw that when he sauntered up and murmured a low and husky, “Hey.”
Ooh, his voice was smokin’. And those sparkling blue eyes were nothing short of captivating.
I could peer into them all day.
I was about to too.
But no!
I had to get my shit together, reclaim the upper hand.
Flipping back my wavy tresses, I threw out a nonchalant, “Hey back at you.”
His cool façade faltered.
Good, I wanted to disarm him. It would make him more pliable.
He cleared his throat, no doubt pulling his shit together like I’d been doing, and then said, “I noticed you were over here all alone.”
Okay, so he wasn’t exactly Mr. Smooth. It was cute, though. I knew I could work that to my advantage.
“Yes,” I replied coolly, “you noticed correctly.”
Gesturing to the empty bar stool next to me, he asked, “Is it okay if
I join you?”
I shrugged, maintaining my devil-may-care attitude. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”
Smiling a pearly white grin, he sat down and remarked, “You sound American.”
“I am,” I confirmed, adding a bit more friendliness to my tone.
Couldn’t be too much of a bitch and scare him off. I wanted this man to like me, right?
“So,” he said, relaxing as I hoped he would. “Where are you from in the States?”
“Arizona,” I replied. “And since you’re obviously American too, where are you from?”
“Nevada. Las Vegas, to be exact.”
“No way!” Caught off guard, I blurted out, “We’re practically neighbors.”
This was great. If I returned to the US with him, we’d surely fly into Las Vegas. And my town was just over the state line.
It couldn’t get much better than this.
“So,” I began, turning my own dazzling smile hockey dude’s way. “Do you have a name, guy from Nevada?”
He laughed. “Yes, girl from Arizona, I do. My name is Noel, Noel Sandlund.” He reached out to shake my hand. “And you are?”
I took his hand, and, whoa, fireworks!
His hand was so freaking warm, his grasp firm and manly. I wondered what he could do to me with those fingers I was touching.
Oh, my.
Not thinking straight at all, I blathered, “Nice to meet you, Noel. I’m Maisie. Maisie Troy.”
Oops.
Yanking my hand away, I swallowed hard.
Fuck.
I had just divulged my last name to my mark.
How stupid was that?
I’d been planning to make up a fake one.
Okay, so I clearly sucked at this covert game. My only hope now was that he’d forget it.
“Maisie?” Noel looked at me with concern, his brow creasing. “You look super upset all of a sudden. Is everything okay?”
I waved my hand in the air, quickly schooling my features to calm and happy.
“No, everything is fine. It’s just, I, uh…”—think of something, fast!—“…my stomach felt a little weird there for a minute. I ordered room service earlier, and I don’t know, maybe Swedish food just doesn’t agree with me.”
What a lame excuse, Maisie. You didn’t have anything Swedish to eat. Not to mention, you actually love their cuisine.