Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance

by Jami Davenport

  My heart was trying to tell me something and I should listen.

  18

  Rescue

  Paxton

  I seethed with jealousy as I walked aimlessly down the sidewalk. I turned up my coat collar to ward off the bitterly cold wind. I didn’t care. I kept going until I was far from my apartment and the hockey house.

  Patrick and Naomi had been fucking adorable in their costumes, and seeing how cozy they were pissed me off. Envy threatened to consume me, and I fought like hell to prevent it. I loved my brother and hated this growing chasm between us but seemed powerless to stop it.

  It wasn’t just how he flirted with Naomi, it was hockey, too. Patrick had been the star last night, and I’d sucked. Things were way more harmonious when my brother was the star of the night, and I fed him the puck. My dad didn’t rail at me in person or on the phone. Patrick didn’t yell at me. My teammates didn’t give me the side-eye like they did when I kept the puck, shot, and missed the net. All in all, I felt better about myself when I was the old me.

  Improvement doesn’t come without risk and discomfort. The words of Coach Garf echoed in my ears.

  Coach insisted everything would click eventually. Meanwhile, I wasn’t convinced I was impressing anyone, especially myself.

  I fully intended to go back home and wallow in my misery once I’d given Patrick and Naomi ample time to be gone. And what would that solve? How would hiding fix anything? My absence would throw up a red flag after I’d insisted I was fine with Naomi and Patrick dating. The last thing I wanted was to look like a sore loser.

  Turning, I trudged several blocks back to the hockey house. The place was lit up like a Christmas tree in Times Square. Raucous music blasted from inside. As I approached, a few of the freshmen staggered up the sidewalk. They’d been partying pretty hard already, or so it appeared.

  “Hey, handsome. I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” called a sultry voice as I stepped onto the large front porch. I glanced at the buxom brunette wearing a Wonder Woman costume. She slid up to me and pressed her spandex-clad body against my side. I didn’t know her, but I was guessing my brother did. “I’m Paxton. Not Patrick.”

  For a split second, her face fell, then she gave me a thousand-watt smile. “One twin is as good as the other.”

  “Yeah, we’re interchangeable.”

  My sarcasm flew right over her heard. She beamed even wider, leaning closer and running her long red nails down my chest. “I wouldn’t mind having a go with both of you at once if you’re into such a thing.”

  “Sorry, no thanks.” I firmly set her aside and skirted past, slipping through the partially open front door. Annoyance crept through my veins at her, at my brother, at Naomi. Especially at Naomi. As unfair as my feelings might be.

  Once inside, I threaded my way through the dense crowd to a table of shots and threw back a couple. Then I grabbed a beer. The alcohol warmed the pit of my stomach and gave me a nice instant buzz, taking the edge off my bad mood. I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes, and exhaled, then tried few relaxation exercises Coach had taught me along with uttering some affirmations.

  I will have a good time.

  I will have a good time.

  I will have a good time.

  I leaned against the wall and observed the crowd. Captain Jack and the wench were dancing a slow dance. Patrick’s hand crept to her ass, and Naomi pulled it back to her waist. Her expression was as annoyed as mine. I perked up. Things weren’t going so well for my brother. She was fending off his advances instead of welcoming them.

  They stopped dancing, and Naomi stepped away from him, evading his attempt to put an arm around her. Patrick scowled, and they engaged in a brief conversation. After which, my brother shrugged and walked away. I smirked, enjoying this side show.

  “Your smugness is showing,” Lex said as he stopped beside me.

  “You think?”

  “Oh, fuck yeah. She rejected him, and you enjoyed it.”

  “I did. Every fucking moment,” I admitted.

  “Your sibling rivalry is showing.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I stared at his costume. “What are you supposed to be?”

  “Coach Keller.”

  “Oh, good one. You do resemble him somewhat.”

  Lex blew on the whistle around his neck, drawing scowls from those nearby.

  Once the ringing in my ears stopped, I shook my head and laughed, more relaxed than when I’d walked in the door. Of course, seeing my brother exit the dance floor while wondering what the fuck just happened helped immensely.

  “Who are you supposed to be?” Lex asked.

  I thought for a moment before answering. “I’m Patrick. What do you think?”

  “Funny. Really funny. You didn’t wear a costume?”

  “I’m not into dressing up for Halloween. Never did as a kid.”

  “Patrick seems to go all out.”

  “That’s because Naomi’s dad sent them those costumes. Besides, being the center of attention is Patrick’s jam, not mine.”

  “Naomi’s dad? Does he know what that costume looks like on his daughter?”

  “I doubt he paid attention. Probably had his girlfriend buy them.”

  “Yeah, I can’t see him picking out costumes and shipping them. It’d be beneath him.”

  “Hey, Pax.” Michael, our alternate captain, squinted at me, as if trying to figure out what my costume was. I let him fret.

  Jonah and Maggie joined the group, along with Kaitlyn.

  “Pax, who are you dressed as, your brother?” Kaitlyn joked.

  “Wow, good guess,” I said.

  “You should have a couple Barbie dolls stuck to your sides then.” Tate snorted and fist-bumped with my teammates.

  “Good idea,” I said dryly, but actually, it was a good idea. Funny as hell.

  Speaking of the devil.

  I frowned as my brother staggered toward us. He hadn’t wasted any time after being snubbed by Naomi. A woman on each arm held him up. The guys parted to make room as he pushed his way into our circle.

  Patrick gestured toward me with a beer bottle. Sensing a confrontation, I stiffened. Beside me, Lex cast a quick glance between the two of us and stood up straighter, making it clear he supported me over our team captain. The other guys in the group observed us warily.

  “You played like shit last night. Good thing I was on fire.” My pirate brother was wasted drunk. Usually, he was a happy drunk, but he’d been doing shots. Sometimes hard liquor made him intolerable to be around. Unfortunately, he chose to focus his foul mood on me tonight.

  “Fuck you.” I wasn’t dealing with his bullshit. I glanced around, grateful to see that only a few people outside of my group paid attention. Hopefully, they’d chalk it up to a brotherly spat and ignore us.

  “Let me give you some tips, little bro, to help your game along.”

  “I don’t need your tips.” I hated it when he called me little bro, and he knew it. I was younger by five minutes. Leave it to Patrick to beat me to the birth canal.

  He threw back his head and laughed. Naomi squeezed her way into the group, alarm on her face. Her alarmed gaze slid from me to Patrick and back.

  My brother leaned forward, swaying to and fro. He shook his finger a few inches from my face. “Tip one—pass the fucking puck to me. Quit trying to hog the limelight, because you’re failing epically.”

  I wanted to clock him. “Fuck you. You aren’t the only guy capable of scoring a goal.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Patrick snorted and beer actually came out his nose. He wiped his face on his sleeve.

  “Hey, Trick.” Tate wedged himself between Patrick and me. “We need you in the kitchen for something.” A drunk Patrick was easily distracted.

  “What?” He blinked a few times as if to get his bearings.

  “Come on, come with me.” Tate motioned for him to follow.

  Patrick half sauntered, half staggered away with the two blondes hurrying after him. He glanced over hi
s shoulder for a parting shot. “I’m not done with you yet, bro. We have shit to discuss.”

  “Whatever.” I turned my back on the now gathering crowd and slipped outside, needing some air and not wanting any further conversation with any of them. Lex dogged my heels, probably worried about me. Lex was a good guy, and I was grateful to have a friend like him, even if I’d rather be left alone right now.

  We wandered over to a group of guys hanging out under the stars and chilled with them for over an hour. I needed to chill. My bro put me on edge. I itched to put my fist into his smug face. Over the years, we’d had our brotherly spats but always gotten over them fast. Not like what was going on now. This wall between us sucked.

  Lex shot me a sideways glance. “You’re way too serious for being at a party.”

  “Huh? Oh, sorry.”

  “Loosen up, Pax. Have some fun. Forget about your shit for one night.”

  I nodded and did some deep breathing while rubbing my crystal. “Good advice from a good friend,” I admitted.

  “Naomi’s wandering around alone. You might want to stake a claim since she dissed your bro.” Lex winked at me. “That reminds me, gotta find my girl.” He wandered off to look for Kaitlyn, leaving me bored and freezing my ass off. I headed inside for a little heat and another beer and maybe another glimpse of Naomi in her peasant blouse.

  I stopped to talk to Tate, Michael, and Jonah hovering over a table loaded with food. When I realized they were discussing last night’s game, I dumped that convo and moved on. A couple sophomore girls eyed me, giggling as I walked by. Probably trying to decide if I was Patrick or not, I thought bitterly.

  I had to get over this bullshit with my brother. Our problems were as much my fault as his. We were all we had when it came down to it, and I hated the wedge between us.

  I scanned the crowd, disappointed in not seeing Naomi. For that matter, I didn’t see Patrick either. My mind churned with the possibilities, making me a little crazy. She’d turned him down. She wouldn’t change her mind. Right?

  Hell if I knew.

  I grabbed another beer, not wanting to ruin my good buzz, and ducked around the corner. I sat down on one of the couches and watched the action, attempting to amuse myself with who was hooking up with whom.

  “Hey.”

  At the sound of that heavenly voice that lived in my dreams, my head snapped around. Naomi the serving wench, in that delectable low-cut top, smiled down at me.

  “Hi,” I answered with a slow smile. My gaze slipped to her cleavage, and I forced myself to look up. One glance at those breasts begging to be set free while knowing what was underneath, and I was hard as a puck.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” Naomi dropped onto the couch next to me, sitting way too close for comfort.

  “I’m Paxton,” I teased, even though I was half-serious.

  “I know.”

  “Just checking.”

  “Don’t blame you.” She sounded close to sober for someone I’d seen throwing back shots earlier. “I thought you looked lonely.”

  “I’m not.” My voice was harsh, and she flinched, making me feel like the ass I was.

  “Well, I am.”

  “In this room crammed with people?”

  “Yeah, because none of them are you.” She turned to capture my gaze, and I lost myself in her beautiful eyes.

  Had she really just said that?

  I stiffened and looked away. I didn’t want her to say shit she didn’t mean, because it gave me hope, and hope would eventually break my heart. My brother was AWOL, and I was second-best. I wasn’t settling for being second-best again, not even where she was concerned.

  “Dance with me.” Naomi grabbed fistfuls of my sweatshirt and leaned into me. My nostrils flared as I breathed in the heady scent of her. Her touch made me forget my vow not to be her second choice—almost. I mounted a resistance, as futile as it might be.

  “You’re drunk,” I hedged.

  “Tipsy.”

  “Aren’t you here with my brother?”

  “I was, but I lost him.”

  “On purpose?”

  She shot me a secretive smile. “Maybe.”

  “He’s probably passed out. Last I saw him, he was feeling no pain.”

  “He’s in no shape to dance. Dance with me.” She didn’t wait for a response but grabbed my hand and tugged. Her stubborn expression didn’t bode well for refusing. Short of making a scene, I’d have to appease her. I stood and let her drag me to the packed makeshift dance floor.

  She stumbled over the feet of someone next to us, but I caught her to my chest. She gazed up at me like hapless females do in romantic movies. Not that I watched many romantic movies, but there’d been times I’d been forced to do so. Personally, I didn’t see myself as much of a romantic.

  Naomi draped herself over my body, and I held her as we shuffled around the dance floor. There wasn’t room for much else. She felt so right in my arms, like skating off the ice after a hard-fought game to find the person who grounds you. Memories that flooded me of our night of bliss followed by extreme humiliation should have poured water on my flames but didn’t. Her closeness rendered me powerless to resist.

  She nuzzled my neck, sliding her lips across my skin. I turned my head to nuzzle her jaw. Purely a reaction without thought. I just did it. Didn’t think. Just did. She tilted her head until our mouths were inches apart. Inches from heaven. Inches from what I’d wanted long before I’d first tasted her lips. And once I’d had that first taste, I craved more, like a junkie craved his next fix. She was my fix, and I needed her and fuck the long-term repercussions.

  Our lips met. Mine were reluctant. Hers were determined. Our eyes locked, and my world turned upside down and inside out. I existed in a bubble with her and only her. Her body melded to mine, and we swayed, locked together in body, mind, and soul.

  “Naomi,” I whispered huskily.

  “Pax,” she sighed into my mouth, making me groan. I wanted her. All of her. My dick ached to be inside her. My body ached to be naked with her. I ached just to have her as mine.

  “Pax, take me home with you.” She kissed me again, plenty of tongue and a lot of promise.

  My alcohol-laden heart soared. My convictions to make my life about nothing but hockey flew out the window without a second thought. I deepened my kiss, pushing my thigh between her legs. She whimpered and gripped my shoulders, kissing with the same hunger I felt.

  I don’t know how long we made out on the dance floor. People jostled us, and my teammates teased. I ignored everyone but her. She was my everything, and I wanted to be her everything. Our mouths mated with an intensity only equaled by how our bodies craved each other.

  “Naomi, oh, fuck, Naomi. I need you.”

  “I need you, too,” she responded in that breathless voice that turned my lust up a notch.

  “Pax. Pax! Sorry to interrupt.”

  I ignored this persistent buzz in my ear until it became too loud to ignore.

  “What?” I reluctantly dragged my mouth from hers. Naomi wasn’t so willing to let go, she held on to me. She tattooed my cheeks with hot kisses.

  “Pax, I need help with your brother,” Lex implored me. The alarm in his voice penetrated the lust-filled fog surrounding me. Even Naomi stopped and turned to look at him with concern on her face.

  “What’s going on?” I asked with annoyance. This better be good.

  “He’s wasted drunk, and he’s picking fights with some frat guys. He’s going to get himself in real trouble, maybe be kicked off the team. We can’t control him.”

  “Ah, fuck.” I turned apologetically to Naomi.

  She smiled and nodded. “Go to your brother. He needs you.”

  I wouldn’t be making any difficult choices tonight. Patrick needed rescuing from himself, and perhaps so did I.

  19

  The Douche

  Naomi

  I had a big decision to make. No more putting it off. The moment of truth had come.
>
  The week following the Halloween party, Pax and I were back to the we’re-just-friends game. He greeted me cheerfully when he ran into me on campus and was friendly and even chatty at times. But it was all superficial BS. I caught the hunger in his gaze on several occasions, and he caught me doing the same. I was growing tired of this dance we were doing. The day of reckoning was coming. We both knew it.

  The team played out of town that weekend, a doubleheader with the same college. We won the first game. Patrick was the star, but Paxton’s struggles appeared to be behind him. He played a very good game and scored one goal to his brother’s two.

  My dad invited Patrick to dinner after Friday’s game in what was becoming a post-game ritual. Tonight, Mr. Graham would also be in attendance as he’d come to town for the games.

  Paxton walked out of the locker room right behind Patrick, glanced at our little group, and looked away, but not before I caught the hurt on his face. Neither his father nor his brother had thought to invite him.

  In a moment of rebellion, I tugged on Pax’s coat as he walked by, making it impossible for him not to stop.

  “Hey, Omi,” he said with a too bright smile. His gaze slid to his dad, but Mr. Graham didn’t acknowledge him.

  Fine, I would.

  “Great game tonight, Pax. You were on fire,” I stated a little too loudly.

  Pax frowned, his gaze going to his father and back. “I did okay.” He shrugged, blowing off his best performance of the season so far.

  “We’re going to dinner. Why don’t you join us?” I continued, because I really did want him there. I waited expectantly for his answer.

  Before Paxton opened his mouth to respond, his father rushed forward, suddenly aware of his other son. “This is a private meeting to discuss Patrick’s future. Sorry, Pax, but I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  “Yeah, sure, I do,” Paxton mumbled. He shrugged and met my gaze. I wasn’t certain what I saw in his eyes at that moment. He did an admirable job of covering up his emotions, but I had no such problem. I was mad. Actually livid at his asshole father. Paxton was his son, too. I embraced my fury in preparation for the ass-chewing that man deserved. Pax touched my arm and shook his head.