Penalty Play

by Jami Davenport

  “My cat has dragged in dead animals that look better than you,” Coop added. His shrewd gaze assessed Rod as only a captain can. Coop took his duties seriously, and the team came first. Always.

  Smooth leaned back in his chair and rubbed his whiskered chin. “Dump her ass.” He didn’t even bother to ask what Rod’s issue was. He knew. The entire team knew. Up until now, they’d stayed mostly out of it, but the woman was affecting his play, and they couldn’t tolerate his lackluster performances of late. Not for a team hell-bent on making a run for the Cup.

  “I’m sorry, guys.” Rod hung his head. Eventually, he glanced up. Every guy at the table was staring at him. “It’s over. I’m calling a divorce attorney on Monday.”

  The men nodded their approval while offering brief words of sympathy and encouragement. Like most guys, they didn’t dwell on his broken relationship, but turned their discussion back to hockey and Thursday night’s game.

  Rod forced a smile, probably glad to get the news off his chest. “She’s going to take me for every penny I have,” he said gloomily.

  “You didn’t protect yourself?” Merde. The kid was a dumbshit.

  Rod flinched and judging by his fallen expression, it was bad, really bad.

  “No, we were in love. We were going to be together forever. I didn’t have her sign anything.”

  “Ah, man. That sucks.”

  “Tell me about it. Washington is a no-fault divorce state, doesn’t matter if she’s screwing around on me with every member of the Skookums.”

  Matt bit his tongue. The skank probably was. “I know a good attorney. She’s a ruthless bitch. She’ll do the best she can for you.”

  “I’m going to need a ruthless bitch to fight a ruthless bitch,” Rod said glumly. He met Matt’s gaze. “How long did it take you to get over the pain? I never expected a breakup to hurt like this.”

  “It does, man, and I’m sorry. It takes a while, but you have hockey. Immerse yourself in the game and put all your energy there.” That was the best advice Matt could think to give. The game and his boys had gotten him through the first year of hell.

  “Yeah, I will.” Rod didn’t look convinced hockey would be enough, but it would have to be.

  Brick spoke up from the end of the table. “Hey, Lu, I heard your boys are giving Vi a run for her money.”

  Matt jerked his head in his buddy’s direction. “What? Vi said everything was fine.”

  Brick snorted. “When Amelia and Macy got there last night, I guess Vi and the cat looked like they’d been run over by a Zamboni—multiple times. The boys were watching a kids’ movie, but your living room looked like a war zone.”

  Matt didn’t know whether to laugh or phone Vi and call her out on her fibbing. He decided to leave her alone and see what she said when he returned. His boys were boys, and Vi was, well, Vi.

  “So I guess they were using Vi’s rice cakes as hockey pucks, and her dinner of kale salad and goat cheese pasta didn’t go over well, either. Amelia had to make chili dogs when she got there.”

  Matt threw back his head and laughed until tears blurred his vision. The other guys joined in. Even though they didn’t know Vi, they knew Matt’s kids.

  Vi was trying to turn the boys into vegetarians, which wouldn’t go over well with his little carnivores. His mother was a meat-and-potatoes cook, and his ex hadn’t cooked at all, leaving the cooking to him or to takeout. Perhaps not the healthiest options, and they probably could expand their palates somewhat. He considered it a win they ate veggies, at least, normal ones like corn, peas, and carrots. Kale should be restricted to rabbits and guinea pigs.

  Well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and Matt needed Vi’s help this week. He’d talked to Cindy just this morning, and she had zero luck finding someone to care for his kids during the two road trips scheduled within the next few weeks.

  Childcare wasn’t the only thing bugging the shit out of him. He had a month left with Vi, part of which would be eaten up by road trips. He should’ve checked the schedule before he’d enacted his self-imposed deadline. He felt cheated since he wouldn’t get a full month, more like a half month.

  He caught Brick watching him with an assessing gaze. Ever since he’d taken the plunge, the lovesick bastard assumed every guy’s problems could be solved by a good woman. Matt feigned interest in the who-was-better debate, Crosby or Gretzky. Brick left his seat and pushed his way between Matt and Rod, grabbing a chair from a nearby table.

  “What’s the deal with you and Vi?”

  “Nothing,” Matt said way too innocently to get past the goalie’s sharp eyes.

  “I call bullshit. If it’s nothing, why’s she taking care of your boys until you can find a nanny? Hell, I didn’t even know you two were in contact with each other. You’ve been holding back on me, buddy.”

  Matt opened his mouth to protest, but no use lying to Brick. “Yeah, we’re seeing each other.”

  “Fuck buddies?”

  “More like fuck without the buddy. You know we don’t like each other.”

  “That’s what you both keep saying.” Brick narrowed his eyes, skepticism written all over his face.

  “Okay, maybe I’ve come to appreciate our differences, but it’s never going further than getting naked, because we don’t have anything in common.”

  “She likes hockey.”

  “I guess.” He was ashamed to admit he didn’t know she liked hockey. He thought she tolerated it.

  “She’s a nature person, and you love to boat. Did you know she’s hiked Mount Rainier and the Olympics?”

  “Uh, no, I didn’t know that.”

  “You have more in common than you think. You should spend some time getting to know her with your clothes on.”

  Matt snorted. “This from the biggest man-slut the team has ever seen?”

  “Former. Not anymore. I’m whipped and proud of it.”

  Overhearing his comments, Cooper and Ice fist-bumped him. They, too, were shameless, card-carrying members of the whipped club.

  Matt’s phone buzzed, and he looked at the display. He blinked several times and squinted. The results were the same.

  His ex?

  He hadn’t heard from her in forever. He frowned, tempted to ignore her call, but curiosity compelled him to answer. He pushed away from the table and walked into the lobby.

  “What do you want?” he said, not caring if he sounded like an absolute dickhead.

  “Well, that’s rude.” Her snotty tone brought out the worst in him.

  “We have nothing to say to each other.”

  “Oh, but we do. We have children together, and I have a right to know what’s going on with them.”

  “Is that why you called? To ask about the boys? It’s been two years since you’ve bothered, and three years since you’ve graced them with your physical presence.”

  “Bitter much?”

  “Fucking yeah, I’m bitter. You missed Andy’s birthday—again.” He gripped the phone so tightly the glass screen should’ve shattered.

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “What kind of mother is so busy she can’t contact her children?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ve been selfish, but things are about to change.”

  That last statement made his gut clench. Good thing he didn’t believe her. She wanted something. She always wanted something. Most likely money. “Cut the crap and tell me why you called.”

  “I want joint custody. I miss my boys.”

  “You don’t miss the boys, or you’d be making more of an effort. We can’t have joint custody and live on opposite sides of the country.”

  “Then I’ll move to Seattle.”

  Now his suspicions were really raised. His stomach rolled, and he felt like he might be sick. “You hate Seattle.”

  “I miss my boys.” She sniffled, and her voice broke. Her crocodile tears used to work on him, but he wasn’t that stupid anymore. She’d pulled that crap one too many times.

  “Not happening.
I’d love for you to see the boys. They miss you. Even though you’re a shitty mother, you’re their mother. But joint custody is not going to happen. You’re only saying that because you’re out of money, and you want a free ride.”

  “I am not,” she spat back indignantly. “I have parental rights, you bastard.”

  “You do, and I’d love to see you use them. Have your attorney call mine. We can work out a visitation schedule, but you’ll have to come here.”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me.” She ended the call before he could, which irritated him. She’d always been good at getting the last word. Just what he needed on top of everything else. She could’ve stayed out of his life indefinitely and he’d be a happy guy, but his boys did miss her, and he didn’t want to sever their ties with their mother completely severely.

  Even so, she could make trouble for him. Big trouble.

  Chapter 12—Defensive Zone

  Matt bolted off the plane early Friday morning, grabbed his luggage, and drove over the speed limit to get home. The game in LA last night had ended about ten thirty after they won in overtime. The team landed at 4:00 a.m. following a couple frustrating delays. By the time he got home, he’d only have an hour or so to be with Vi before the boys got ready for school.

  He’d missed Valentine’s Day, so he stopped at a Safeway on the way home and paid way too much for a wilted bouquet of flowers for Vi and a box of chocolates for the boys. His gift sent Vi mixed messages, but he did it anyway for reasons he was scared shitless to examine.

  He pulled into the garage, left his luggage in the car, and slipped into the house, down the hall to the master bedroom. When he’d first purchased this house, he’d been concerned the master was on one floor and the boys’ bedroom on another. Now he was grateful for the separation. Matt paused in the bedroom doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and prayed Vi would be naked in his bed.

  She was, and sound asleep, but not for long. He’d take care of that. He put the flowers on the nightstand and stripped off his suit, folding it neatly over the back of a chair.

  His dick was already rock hard, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His entire body twitched in anticipation. He’d waited for this moment from the second the plane had gone wheels-up on the first leg of their road trip. He’d never been this anxious to get home to Brie, probably because he’d lived in fear of what or who he might find in bed with her. Funny how he instinctively trusted Vi more than he ever had the woman he’d married.

  Matt pulled back the covers and grinned. The alarm clock cast a red glow over her naked, tattooed skin. She moved slightly, and the light shone on a large rose on her shoulder, illuminating it.

  She opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. “You’re home.”

  He held out the flowers. “Happy late Valentine’s Day.”

  Vi sat up quickly, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from going straight to her breasts and those suckable nipples.

  “Oh, thank you.” She took the flowers and sniffed them, genuinely surprised. When she looked up at him again, there were tears in her eyes.

  He took the flowers from her and put them back on the nightstand, then crawled into bed. She snuggled against his chest. He felt her warm tears on his pecs.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin. “I’m glad I was the first.”

  “So am I.”

  He stroked her hair, loving how the silky strands slid between his fingers. “I missed you,” he admitted, unable to stop himself.

  “Make love to me.” Her voice was muffled, but her intent was unmistakable. One of her hands snaked downward and wrapped around his hard cock. He groaned and rolled her onto her back.

  And he did make love to her. Even in his current state of denial, he knew they weren’t just fucking. He took her slow and tender. Like nothing he’d ever felt before. Afterward, she fell asleep in his arms while he tried to sort through the emotions rioting inside him. What the hell was he doing? He’d never been good at casual. He was getting attached, but he didn’t want to end it. He was confused as hell, and all he had were questions and no answers.

  * * * *

  Vi made it through four nights of riding herd on the demon spawn and not with flying colors, but at least no one died, no one had to go to the hospital, and she wasn’t buried in a hole in the backyard.

  Matt had returned Friday morning, and he’d bought her a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day. She tried not to read too much into his gift. In fact, she was pretty sure she’d seen regret in those brown eyes of his.

  She’d asked him to make love to her. She never called it that. She called it sex, screwing, fucking, but never making love. Even scarier, he’d complied and given her the most tender, emotionally satisfying sex of her entire life. He hadn’t just fucked her. She knew the difference, and so did he.

  Vi felt so good, she’d fallen asleep in his arms. Waking an hour later, she got the hell out of there, not wanting to face him or the boys in the daylight.

  She napped restlessly for a few hours in her studio apartment and attended her two Friday classes but never heard a word of the lectures. Afterward, she walked the several blocks to her hair stylist. Flower was married to Bruno, Vi’s tattoo artist, who occupied the back of the hair salon. Seeing them was one-stop shopping. Get a haircut and a tattoo in one trip. Today she was doing something completely different—for her.

  A few hours later, she left Flower Power Salon with a gorgeous mane of dark brown hair with auburn highlights, as close to her true hair color as Flower could make it. She hadn’t had normal hair in years, and refused to admit to the reason for this sudden change, as if she didn’t know. Matt would crap his pants when he saw her.

  Now she was at Dancing Girls, Inc., getting into a hippie costume with a see-through, skintight vest with two daisies that barely covered her nipples, and short shorts that revealed most of her rounded ass and barely covered the vital parts in front. She topped the costume with a headband and heavy makeup.

  Vi usually loved sixties night at the club. She loved the music, the psychedelic lights, and the go-go boots. She loved to dance all those old dances—the Twist, the Monster Mash, the Pony. Usually she really got into her routine. But not tonight. Dread filled her, and she couldn’t let go of the fear something bad was about to happen. She’d always been intuitive, and the universe seemed off. Really off.

  The girls gabbed excitedly as they got ready for their time onstage. Steph wasn’t anywhere to be found, adding to Vi’s overall anxiety. When she asked one of the other dancers, they told her Steph called in sick. Vi’s stomach clenched at the possibilities, all of which she doubted were something as simple as a cold.

  She pushed her worry from her mind, found a quiet corner, and attempted to meditate, hoping to get into her dancing zone. Lately, shutting out the salivating men and just immersing herself in the dance had become harder and harder. She’d always promised herself when she no longer enjoyed taking her clothes off, she’d quit. She been wondering if her time had come. But she needed money, and most of her other options didn’t pay nearly as well as stripping. Just a few more months, and she’d graduate.

  One of the stagehands called her name. “Vi, you’re up.”

  Fighting back her reluctance and tamping down her apprehension, she ran onstage, greeted by the usual hoots and hollers. Grabbing her stripper pole, she faked making love to it, at first slow and sensual, then working up to fast and nasty. She climbed the pole and hung upside down, giving the men a great view of her barely covered breasts. Sliding downward, she wrapped a leg around the pole and spun around several times. Lowering herself to her feet, she turned her back to the crowd. With her ass moving in sensual circles, she slipped out of her vest and dropped it to the floor. She turned slowly, giving the patrons a nice view of her large breasts. She worked each corner of the stage, coming back to the middle. U
nzipping her short shorts, she shimmied out of them and once more danced around the stage. Lastly, she pulled off the G-string and tossed it into the sea of mostly male patrons, causing a mad scramble for the scrap of lace.

  She shimmied and gyrated her hips, working the men into a frenzy as the dollars rained down on the stage from the crowd. All the while, she felt disconnected. As if she were sitting in the balcony suite watching herself perform. Her movements were stilted and uninspired, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

  They were there for her body, not her talent.

  This was going to be a profitable night. Bending, she scooped up the money and stared unseeingly at the fistful of bills.

  She didn’t want to do this anymore. The joy was gone. She didn’t want to be objectified as a sex object. She wanted to be appreciated for the person she was. Turning on her hooker heels, she started to sprint off stage and hesitated when she swore she heard someone call out her real name above the noise of the crowd.

  Disconcerted, she squinted, trying to see past the blinding spotlights, and looked straight into the shocked eyes of the last man she wanted to see in Dancing Girls, Inc.

  * * * *

  Matt did not do strip clubs. He hated them. Not his scene. But when Brick made a desperate phone call, Matt had to go. Rod was hanging out with several of the younger guys at a strip club. He was drunk and disorderly and on the verge of getting arrested if he didn’t chill.

  He left the boys with Amelia, and he and Brick drove to Dancing Girls, Inc., hell-bent on rescuing their teammate whether he liked it or not. From what Brick had ascertained during a frantic call from an inebriated Rush, several of them had gone to the strip club to party. Rod tossed back too many shots and was challenging any fool who’d engage him to a fight. So far, most of the patrons had ignored him, but a group of frat boys were egging him on. This wasn’t going to end well unless they could get him out of there without making a scene.

  They arrived at the club about eleven. Matt paid the cover and followed Brick inside. He’d been to a few strip clubs in his younger days, but he’d never understood the allure, and they sure as hell weren’t his thing now. He’d rather have Vi than any of these women.