Placing his forefinger over my lips, Nick shushes me with a gentle smile. “Hey. Stop being so hard on yourself. I know what I’m getting myself into. Pete did a number on you. But I’m not him, and you need to remember that.”
“No, you’re not like him at all.” On this I’m adamant. Nick’s everything Pete never was. “I’m better. I promise.”
Yeah. I’m bolstered by the fact that Nick is nothing like Pete. There’s nothing to worry about.
Nick kisses my palm, then places it against his beard. “Just remember that when I head to San Diego tomorrow. Okay?”
San Diego…“Oh God. You’re playing the Storm?”
“Yep.” Nick nods. “Timing sucks, right?”
That’s an understatement.
“He will take advantage of your weaknesses. You know that.” My eyes dart to his. “Tell me you know that.”
Laughing, Nick cups his hand over mine. “He hasn’t been able to find my weaknesses. There’s nothing for him to exploit.”
“That was before you took me to the NHL equivalent of a royal wedding. Pete will know I was your guest. He does reconnaissance, too. He will use me to get to you. Don’t underestimate the asshole, and don’t fall for his bullshit. He’ll try to provoke you. He’ll try to get you ejected from the game. Don’t let him.” I’m like a drill sergeant, schooling Nick on Pete Harper Douchebaggery 101.
Nick nips my neck, then exhales. Causing goosebumps to prickle, then repeating the process. “I like it when you’re bossing me around and talking game. You can be my coach anytime you want.”
“Seriously, Nick, I know Pete. He will use me against you.” I try not to get caught up in his mouth—and his tongue, which traces a fiery path down to my shoulder, then back up my neck. I try to resist his nibbles to no avail. My body vibrates for him, and soon I’m lost in his act of seduction.
“Don’t worry. I can handle Pete.” Famous last words, which get lost somewhere between our hot and heavy make-out session and the trip to Nick’s bedroom, where we spend the rest of the night exploring each other in ways I never could have imagined. By the time Nick leaves for the stadium, he gives me his key to lock up.
“This ensures I’ll see you when I get back. I need my key.” He kisses me, a sensual kiss that leaves me breathless. “Only you, Camille.”
It’s his promise. To me. Only I’m no longer worried about freaking puck bunnies. No, I’m in full-on panic mode that Nick will beat the shit out of Pete and get himself ejected from the game.
“Don’t be a hero,” I call to him as he tosses his duffel bag onto his passenger seat.
He shrugs, doing his best who-me impression before adding, “I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“I’ve seen at least one of your brawls.” I can’t help but shake my head. “Don’t do anything stupid. It’s what Pete wants you to do.”
Nick runs back up the steps. “Camille. I promise you that Pete will get what he deserves.”
“Why doesn’t that make me worry less?”
Laughing, Nick kisses me one more time. “For luck. Now, trust your man. I’m not going to fall for Pete’s shit.”
I watch Nick get into his truck and drive away until he’s out of sight. “Holy Mary Mother of God, what have I done?”
Entering the house, I shut the heavy wooden front door and lean against it. I’ve given Pete what he needs to taunt Nick, to keep him off his game. If Nick lets him, that is. Have faith in your man, Cami. Nick’s smarter than that.
Yeah, Nick is smarter, but Pete is an asshole who is nothing if not persistently annoying. Shit. I need to trust that Nick can outwit Pete. Nick’s got this. There’s nothing to worry about.
Then why do I feel so anxious?
Because the stakes have never been higher. The cup, the playoffs are in reach. And my boyfriend is about to square off with my ex-husband.
The crowd is in for quite a game. So am I.
Chapter 16
Nick
It’s pre-game and I’m in the Storm’s visiting team’s locker room listening to Chris jabber on about Mighty Mike Gallagher.
“This is the first time we’ve faced off against him and I want to beat him.” Chris punches his fist into his palm. “He still infuriates me.”
Granted Gallagher, or as I like to call him Mouse, did try to split Chris and Serena up by releasing a photo of them kissing to the tabloids, then tried to sabotage our team before getting traded by the Nighthawks, so I get Chris’s urge to pound the guy. But right now, I’ve got my own problems.
“All that is great and all, but Pete Harper is Cami’s ex-husband, and he’s been messaging me through Twitter trying to push my buttons.” I hand my cell to Chris, with a picture from his reception featuring Camille and I. She’s laughing at something I said. It’s blown up, and the asshole has drawn devil horns, a moustache, and a tail on me. Next to Camille, he’s written BEEN THERE, TAPPED THAT in all caps. “I promised Camille I wouldn’t let Pete get under my skin, but right now I want to beat the crap out of that motherfucker.”
“Holy shit. He’s out-Dominatoring the Dominator.” Chris jerks his head and stares at me, his mouth agape.
“Dude, I don’t do shit like that to other team players’ significant others. Pictures are sacred. Pete’s a douchebag who cheated on my girlfriend, broke her heart, and made her frightened to fall for the guy that’s right for her—namely me. Now it’s up to me to keep my cool when I want to knock him out or slam him against the boards. But I’m better than that. I’m the better guy. That’s what I need to show Cami. Besides, I’m not losing sight of that fucking cup.”
“Okay. Good thinking.” Chris claps me on the back. “What’s your plan? Once we’re in the thick of it and he says something about Cami. You know he will. He wants to goad you into a fight and get you ejected.”
Camille said the same thing. I realized it long before, though. The moment she admitted that Peter Harper is her ex-husband, I knew that Pete and I were going to ignite. We have a major rivalry on a good day, even with no complications. Add Camille to the mix and we’re gasoline and matches. He’s also got a grenade, ready to launch it at me by using Camille against me.
“He underestimates how smart I am.” Yes, I’m an intelligent jock. Camille isn’t the only one who studied reverse psychology. “It’s time to channel my inner Zen and get him to make the first move. If I ignore him, he’ll get frustrated.”
“What about if he gets too personal, if he gets under your skin?” Chris asks a valid question.
“You pull me out of my downward spiral with a codeword: ocean.”
Chris does a double take. “ ‘Ocean?’ What the fuck does that mean?”
“Don’t worry about it, just say it.” I refuse to tell my best friend that the ocean represents Camille. My first night with her and our first sunrise when we made love on the dunes. That ocean represents the moments she gave in to me, the significant moments when she let down the walls she built to protect herself, and let me in. It was gradual, but over the course of one night, and one sunrise, I felt them crumble. For me. I’ve got to prove that I deserve her trust.
She’s the reason I can’t beat the shit out of Pete. That and the fact that winning the Nighthawks the cup is my job. I can’t and won’t sabotage that. Both are major reasons. Make no mistake, the first and foremost reason I can’t get into the weeds with Pete tonight is Camille. I’m the best man for her. I must show her that Pete can’t bring me down to his level. She’ll be watching. In her hotel room, in Philadelphia, where she interviewed late this afternoon her time, she’s going to watch this game. I need to prove that I’m different from Pete.
Just as I expected, Pete taunts me throughout the game, making snide comments about sex and Camille. He even stoops to shouting that she loved to role-play with him, all of which I hope the sound guys didn’t pick up. He’s
spewing lots of bullshit and I want him quiet so I motion to the crowd, acting like I can’t hear them by placing my gloved hand to my ear. They shout louder, drowning Pete out. It’s good. Until Pete starts physically going after me, behind the refs’ backs. Sneaky bastard that he is, he throws in a cross-check here, a slash there. He’s not trying to hurt me but to provoke me, and he hasn’t gotten one fine or penalty so far.
My lack of acknowledgement is pissing him off, and he grows even more aggressive. He’s craving a fight and throws the first punch, then the second. My teammates rush to my aid, but I don’t punch back.
“It’s between us!” I shout, shaking off the punch to my helmet.
Pete continues to taunt me. “Pretty boy. You’re not so tough. She’ll want to fuck me again after seeing this. You’re a fucking wimp.”
“Ocean!” Chris shouts, though I don’t need the reminder. I’ve been thinking of Camille all night.
She’s why I let Pete rant, my blood boiling hotter, then hotter still. No matter how much I’m itching to throw a punch, I refuse to. Instead, I use my head and hatch a plan.
I’ll get him to board me. I’ll get him ejected. That’s my goal as I wound the asshole’s pride. “She said I’m the best she’s had. And the largest.”
I look down, referencing his cock. “You may be a dick, but you don’t have a large one. Poor puny Petie.”
Pete slams me into the boards and starts pounding me down to the ice. Gloves are off, and my helmet flies off as my teammates rush to my defense. Before the refs break up the mound of players all getting their punches in, I lunge at Pete. “I’m the better man, asshole, and that’s why Camille wants me. Boarding’s for kids. I’m gonna beat your ass on the ice and you’re going to lose that fucking trophy to me. Televised. In front of my girl. See you in the playoffs, motherfucker.”
Pete’s enraged, screaming. He’s definitely got some anger management issues. Mighty Mouse Mike Gallagher yanks me out from under Pete and Chris skates in, shoving Mike aside. “Not on my watch.”
The fight breaks up. In the end, Pete is ejected and none of the Nighthawks players are fined. Fighting is part of the game, it’s in the unwritten rule book. It’s something I use to my advantage, though never like this. Tonight was a first for me. I wonder what Cami thought.
Back in the locker room, we celebrate our win. Thor wields his hockey stick like an Asgardian hammer and sings “We Are the Champions” with the Vamp while Damon claps me on the back.
“Dude! I thought you were going to lose your shit! How did you keep it together? Harper was on you the entire game.”
“Until his ejection,” Chris reminds us.
Yeah, Pete’s premature ejection. Makes me laugh. “Pete got what he deserved.” He actually deserves more, much more, but I keep that to myself.
Once I settle into my hotel room, I ring Cami.
“That was some game tonight,” Her voice is hoarse from sleep.
“Did I wake you? Go back to sleep.”
“Not a chance. Hang on.” There’s some rustling in the background and she sighs. “Sorry, just adjusting my pillows. I waited for your call and fell asleep. If you think I’m hanging up, you’re dead wrong. Especially when you defended my honor on the ice tonight.”
“Defended—shit. The mics picked it up?”
Camille yawns again. “Yep. All of Pete’s trash talking. I never role-played with him.”
“Thank God for that.” I sit in my hotel bed, wishing Camille was beside me. She sounds far away. “I wouldn’t mind some role-play with you.”
“I can arrange that.”
My blood flows straight to my cock at the thought. “I’d like that very much.”
“So would I,” Cami teases, her tone low and seductive.
“Listen, I’m sorry that you heard everything. What Pete said, what I said—”
“You owe me nothing, especially not an apology. Besides, you were right.” Camille pauses, a breathy sigh lingering before she adds, “I do choose you. I didn’t catch the rest of it during the fight, but I got the gist of it. For the record, you were spot-on about the size of his anatomy. You were also sexy as hell when you told him ‘See you in the playoffs motherfucker.’ ”
“You heard that last part?” I laugh. “That’s just another day at the office for me.”
Camille chuckles. “I like this side of you. You are in control and analytical. You played him, set him up, made him skate right into your trap. Your brain turns me on, hockey stud.”
“Thanks, babe. So, how was your day?” Although I want Camille to succeed, and be happy, the thought of her getting a job out of state scares the shit out of me. What would long distance look like for us? It’s not my ideal scenario.
“The interview went surprisingly well. I mean it’s a great company, just not the right fit for me. I could feel it.”
“I’m sorry.” I try my best to sound sincere.
“No you’re not—”
“I’m not. You’re right. I’m actually relieved.” Ain’t that the God’s honest truth.
“That’s okay. I have another interview, this one in Manhattan, next week.”
Manhattan is doable. Manhattan is a commute. I’m all for Manhattan.
“Hey, what are you doing Friday? You don’t have a game, are you up to play some baseball?”
“It’s not my sport of choice, but for you, anything.” I mean every word. Shit is getting more real by the hour.
“Don’t panic.” Camille’s tone is dire. “My brothers, sister, and cousins get together each week for a game. You’d be meeting my family. Not my dad, though. He never shows.”
Holy shit. “You want me to meet your family? That’s a big step.”
“Don’t get all cocky, or I’ll rescind my invitation. Are you in?” Her sarcasm is heavy with humor.
“I’m in.”
“Good, so what documentary is in store for you tonight?” She yawns again.
I swipe through the options on my iPad. “I’m still deciding.”
“Maybe we can watch one when you get home. I still have your key, remember?” She’s right! I get to see her—I get to go home to Camille. God, I like the sound of that. I also like Camille using the word home…though it means nothing, I see it as a possibility. For a future with her.
We discuss my itinerary and say good night. Right before the phone disconnects, I add, “I love you.”
“Me, too.”
I blink. She admitted that she loves me. I didn’t expect a response, yet I got one. It’s an admission, one that’s monumental. I know it and, based upon the heady silence at the other end of our call, so does Camille.
“Damn it. I do. I’ve fallen for you.” She sighs. “I love you.”
“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” My tone is cloying. “Say it again.”
Camille chuckles.
“Come on. One more time.” Though my tone is teasing, my gut is in knots. I need to hear it again and hope she doesn’t deny me.
“I love you, Nick.” Her words are heady with emotion. “Good night.”
The line disconnects, and I’m stuck with a shit-eating grin on my face. She loves me. Camille said it.
Jumping out of bed, I put my sneakers on. Thor is probably awake, along with Damon. There’s no way in hell I can sleep now, so I grab my room key and head down the hall. Glancing at my cell I note the time. 11:11. The time that superstition calls for a wish. Mine already came true.
I’m not usually this lucky, so I wonder what else fate has in store for me. Suddenly suspicious, I walk faster, burning off negative energy. Isn’t this the part in the chick flicks where the couple usually breaks…when they’re most happy?
Suddenly my joy has become some harbinger of doom. Never have I wanted more to be wrong in my entire life.
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Chapter 17
Camille
Nick texts that he’s ten minutes away, and I start the music. It’s Britney. “I’m a Slave 4 U.” I’ve got an outfit similar to the one she wore for her performance on the VMAs minus the snake. My hair is done in wet curls, and while my boy shorts are exposing some ass cheek, my bra is smaller, has some bondage thing going on with straps, and pushes my assets to high heaven. I’m also wearing what my cousin calls FMBs—Fuck Me Boots. I didn’t know that was a thing, but apparently it is, and since I’m role-playing, I went with it.
I’ve left the door unlocked for Nick and plan to make a grand entrance. The song is on repeat. I hooked my cell up to Nick’s Bluetooth speakers for maximum volume.
“Honey, I’m home,” Nick bellows above the music.
That’s when I strut down the stairs singing at the top of my lungs. “ ‘I’m a slave for you’—oh shit!”
I hide my boobs, but it’s too late. Thor is standing front and center, eyes wide and mouth agape. Nick stares at me like he’s in shock, then covers Thor’s eyes.
“Hi.” Nick tries to sound cool, as if this—me half naked in front of his teammate—is perfectly normal, while he’s studying me like I’m some exotic main course that he’s starving for. At least he’s not disappointed.
Thor winces, his eyes still covered. “Um. Hi, Cami.”
“Hi, Thor. I wasn’t expecting you.” I’m yelling, heading toward the coffee table. There’s storage in it. I lift the lid and yank out a blanket, wrapping it over my shoulders.
Nick laughs. “I texted you.”
Texted? Damn it. “My phone is down here.” I reach for it and turn the music off. Nick’s expression is one of pure unadulterated lust, with some amusement mixed in for good measure. His fierce gaze locks with mine and all my embarrassment dissipates.
“Hi,” he repeats, his smooth baritone rich and decadent. “How was your day?”
I can’t help but smile as I shrug. “Oh, you know. The usual.”
Pride is etched in his rugged features. “It’s safe, Thor.” He jerks his hands from Thor’s eyes.
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