“Don’t they have, I don’t know, top secret shit and everything hidden there?”
“No, of course not. It’s just stuff for the security business. And all that would be locked up anyway.”
“You don’t think they’d mind?”
Sammie shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Okay then, now we’re getting somewhere.” Taylor held her hand out, palm down, then looked at each of them, waiting. Shannon rolled her eyes, watching as Dani placed her hand on top of Taylor’s, followed by Sammie’s.
Taylor turned to her, an expectant look on her face. “You know you want to. We can do this. I know we can.”
Shannon laughed and rolled her eyes. “You’re all crazy but fine, I’m in.” She placed her hand on top of Sammie’s. “Here’s to fighting like a girl.”
Chapter Fourteen
Caleb frowned at the phone, surprised to see a blank screen staring back at him. It wasn’t completely blank, of course—the icons for the dozens of different apps were still there, along with the phone icon and the message icon. It was that last one that had him frowning: it was empty. Zero messages. None. Nada. Zilch.
He opened the app and checked his last incoming message from a few hours ago. More than a few, actually—it was right before the game, when he had been texting Shannon.
I’ll hold you to that next weekend.
A flare of heat tightened his groin at the underlying meaning in that message. At least, he hoped there was an underlying meaning to it. And how big of an idiot was he, to send his lame ass response? That popping champagne bottle followed by a stupid, casual text.
Gotta run, time to get ready for game. I’ll text later.
Nothing since then. Fuck.
“Something wrong with your phone?”
Caleb glanced over at Logan Simms, relief pushing away his worry. That had to be it: something was wrong with his phone. That was why he wasn’t seeing any messages from Shannon.
“Yeah, must be. Can you send me a quick text?”
Logan pulled the phone from his pocket, his fingers flying over the screen. A few seconds later, Caleb’s phone beeped and he looked down at the notification signaling the incoming message, frowned when it popped up on his screen.
Asshole
“Nice. Real nice.”
“Whatever.” Logan pocketed his phone then reached up and undid his tie, pulling it off and tossing it onto his bed. “Your phone works. Now come on, let’s go. The guys are waiting.”
“Yeah, okay. Coming.” Caleb pushed off the bed, still staring at the phone, still wondering why he didn’t see any messages from Shannon. Maybe they got jammed somewhere along the line and just hadn’t come through yet.
He paused in the middle of the room and dashed a quick reply, then muttered a curse when Logan’s phone beeped in response. Well shit. He didn’t have any problems getting a text from Logan or sending one to him. So where were all the other texts?
Unless Shannon hadn’t sent him one.
No, that couldn’t be right. Of course, she’d send him at least one. Wouldn’t she? The bus ride from New York to Baltimore didn’t take that long, she had to be home by now. Actually, she should have been home to catch at least the last ten minutes of his game. Wouldn’t she have texted him to at least congratulate him on that game-winning goal?
Yeah, of course she would have. Which meant his phone had to be acting up or something. That was the only thing that made sense.
“For shit’s sake, Johnson. Are you going to be glued to that thing all fucking night?”
“Hm? Hey! What the hell?” Caleb jerked back in surprise as Logan snagged the phone from his hand. “What do you think you’re doing? Give that back to me.”
“Not happening.” Logan jammed the phone into his pants pocket then yanked open the door. “You can have it back later. Right now, the guys are waiting. And babes. Lots of babes, all ready to do their part in congratulating us on kicking Florida’s ass. Now let’s go.”
Caleb hesitated, no longer in the mood to head down to the lobby bar. Hell, he hadn’t really been in the mood earlier, either. No way in hell he could tell Logan that, though—he’d never hear the end of it. And he couldn’t exactly make a grab for his phone, not without Logan laughing his ass off after pummeling him.
Okay, fine. He’d go down for one beer, get his phone back, then come back up to the room and—
And he didn’t know what. Try texting Shannon, maybe. It wasn’t that late, not really, and it was a Saturday night so she should be awake. Unless she was out somewhere—
“Johnson! Let’s go.”
“Yeah, fine. I’m coming.” Caleb reached behind him, making sure he had his wallet, then stepped out into the hallway. Logan pulled the door closed with a loud bang then led the way down the hall to the elevators. And shit. Just his luck, because Christian Harper and Jacob Riley and Hunter Billings were standing there, holding the elevator doors open for them.
Caleb bit back a sigh of frustration and piled into the elevator with everyone else. One beer, he told himself. One beer, and then he’d call it a night.
Hunter leaned his shoulder against the back wall of the elevator and pinned Caleb with his dark, penetrating gaze. “Why the hell do you look so grumpy? I figured you’d be downstairs already, celebrating with a hook-up.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
A chorus of rough laughter echoed around him. Caleb bit his tongue, refusing to take the bait. If he showed any annoyance at all, they’d pounce on him and give him shit.
“He’s pissed because I took his phone away.”
“Not even close, Simms.”
One of Logan’s dark brows shot up in clear disbelief. “Oh, that’s right. You’re pouting because your woman hasn’t texted you. What’s the matter, Johnson? Not used to being on the other end, are you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Christian nudged him out of the way with a hand to the chest. “Details, Simms. Now. What woman? And if she’s ignoring Loverboy over here, I need to meet her.”
“You already did. It’s the goalie from the Blades. What’s her name? Shelly. Sharon. Something like that.”
“It’s Shannon. And she’s not my woman.” Caleb’s voice was low and tight, filled with a warning he didn’t understand. He realized his mistake almost immediately, knew he should have kept his fucking mouth shut as soon as he saw the expressions on the faces of teammates. Surprise. Disbelief. Amazement.
Laughter.
He leveled a scowl at Christian, the expression feral enough that the man should have been backing away in fear. Instead, he laughed even harder, nearly bent over as he tried to catch his breath. He finally straightened and ran the back of his hand across his eyes.
“No. Fucking. Way. Are you seriously dating her?”
Caleb opened his mouth to say yes, then just as quickly snapped it shut. Yeah, he had used some creative spinning when he’d told Shannon they had technically been out on four dates but that’s all it was—creative spin. They’d been out, yeah, but they weren’t dates. Not even close. It was like she had told him: a date was when you got dressed up to go out to dinner and the movies or dancing or clubbing or something. What they’d done hadn’t even come close.
But damn if he didn’t feel like they were dating, especially with some of those kisses they had shared. Kisses that left him reeling and panting for more.
Panting? Christ, what was he, some kind of fucking dog?
He thought back to the other night at his place, remembered the feel of Shannon’s body as she straddled his lap and rocked her hips against him.
Yeah, definitely panting like some damn dog. He’d be damned if he’d admit that to any of these guys.
“Well, are you?”
Caleb gave himself a mental shake then slowly focused on Christian. He cleared his throat, nodded, shook his head. “We’re still working out the details.”
Hunter nudged him in the side. “Well hell. If you’re not, let
me know, because she is smoking hot. Like, I’d gladly get burned by her.”
“Don’t even think about it, asshole. She’s off-limits so don’t even try.” He ignored the surprise on everyone’s face, breathing in a sigh of relief when the elevator finally reached the lobby level. The doors opened and Caleb pushed his way out, wondering again if he should just go back to his room.
“Well shit.” Hunter nudged him forward, away from the escape the elevators offered. “I thought that whole thing was just a publicity stunt for that stupid fucking game we’re being forced to play.”
“Yeah, seriously.” Jacob moved in front of them then started walking backward, a frown on his face. “How the fuck did that thing even get approved? The last thing I want to do is play against a bunch of women. We’re going to have to tone down our play so much, we might as well just go out on the ice blindfolded.”
“Um, yeah. I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“What are you talking about?”
Caleb shook his head as they walked into the hotel bar. The noise level was a little higher here, music and conversation mingling to create a low din. He glanced around, noticed the crowd already gathered around the bar, the lack of open tables. And fuck, this was the last place he wanted to be right now, especially since the puck bunnies were already moving toward them.
Caleb backed up a step then stopped, his gaze landing on a set of tables in the back corner. And thank God, some of the guys were already sitting there—Shane Masters and Jaxon Miller and Marc Sanford, guarding the empty chairs around them.
He headed straight toward the table, blatantly ignoring the come-hither looks on the faces of a few women. He didn’t bother to look their way, or even acknowledge them when they called his name. The only time he paused was to grab Christian by the back of his collar and jerk him away from the two bunnies who had latched onto him.
“Hey. I was talking—”
“Talk later.” He released Christian’s collar then grabbed a chair and dropped it into it. Then he turned to Logan and held out his hand. “I need my phone.”
“Nope. No way. Not if you’re just going to sit there, pouting, while you keep checking it all night.”
“I’m not checking it. There’s something I need to show you guys.”
Logan watched him for a few long seconds, then finally heaved a sigh and dug Caleb’s phone from his pocket. “Fine. But the first time I see you checking it, I’m taking it away.”
Shane Masters leaned across the table, his bruised hand wrapped around a dark glass bottle. “Check what? Why’s he pouting?”
“Nothing. Not important.” Caleb waved the question off, staring at the screen on his phone as he scrolled through several social media apps. What the hell? Why wasn’t he finding it anywhere? That save should have gone viral by now. His little show for the kiss cam last week had gone viral in a matter of minutes, not to mention the clips from his botched interview.
So why the hell couldn’t he find a replay of Shannon’s save?
He shook his head in frustration then gave up and went to the Blades’ social media page. Sure enough, there it was. He frowned, wondering again why the hell nobody else had picked it up, then tapped the short video. He gave it a quick share from his profile then nudged Jacob.
“Hey, Riley. Check this out. Still think we need to tone-down our play for that exhibition game?” Caleb turned the phone so everyone could see then tapped the play button. You couldn’t hear anything, not with the noise in the bar, but you didn’t need to—the video didn’t need any narration.
“What. The. Fuck.” Shane sagged against the table, nearly spilling his beer. Identical expressions of amazement filled the faces staring back at him.
“No fucking way.”
“Holy shit.”
“Wait. Play it again. There’s no way—” Hunter leaned forward, frowning as he stared at the video. He sat back in his chair, his dark eyes wide with the same surprise Caleb had felt when he’d first seen it live.
“Hey. Do you think she does that move in bed? Because damn, can you imagine how—”
Caleb’s hand shot out and clipped Shane on the shoulder before he could stop himself. The reaction was entirely hypocritical because Caleb had that same exact thought hours earlier. That didn’t mean he was going to put up with listening to any of his teammates voice the same question. “You’re a fucking ass. Don’t talk about her that way.”
“Whoa. Seriously? What the hell is your problem?”
“That’s Caleb’s woman, leave her alone.” Logan reached for the phone, replaying the video again as half-a-dozen faces turned to study Caleb. He ignored the questioning glances, tried to hide the spurt of possessiveness shooting through him.
Caleb’s woman. Why did he like the sound of that?
Logan slid the phone across the table then sat back in his chair. “Damn. She’s good.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“Does the rest of the team play as well as her?”
Caleb shrugged, almost embarrassed to admit he didn’t know. “I’m not sure, but probably. Hell, Taylor LeBlanc is the team’s captain and she’s good enough to play for us.”
“Isn’t Sonny LeBlanc her dad?”
“Yup. And JP Larocque is her uncle.”
“Well shit.” Jacob’s eloquent words echoed around the silent table. The silence lengthened, finally broken when Shane smothered a small belch then uttered a curse.
“Maybe we can get your woman to give Connelly a few pointers because his game has been sucking wind.”
“You can say that again.” Caleb pocketed his phone then glanced around the table. “Speaking of Connelly, where is he?”
“No idea. He dropped his shit as soon as we got here then headed out.”
“He didn’t say where he was going?”
“Not a word. He’s still pissed he got pulled in the second.”
“What the hell did he think was going to happen? He’s been playing like shit lately. I’m surprised Coach even started him tonight.”
“Yeah, well—I heard a rumor he might not even be with us for much longer.”
Silence greeted Jaxon’s announcement. He glanced around the table, a furious blush coloring his face at being the center of attention. He slid down in the seat then offered a half-hearted shrug. “Hey, it’s just a rumor. No idea if it’s true or not.”
“What are they going to do, send him down to the Bombers?”
“If what I heard was true, they’re looking to completely cut their losses and trade him. I also heard they’re looking to make a deal and bring Corbin Gauthier back.”
“Gauthier? Are you fucking crazy?” Shane took a long swallow of beer then slammed the bottle on the table. “Where the fuck do you even hear these things? Gauthier’s what, thirty? Thirty-two? He’s at the end of his career. Why the hell would they want to bring him back now?”
“Hey, don’t go tarring the messenger. I’m just repeating what I heard. And Gauthier’s still pretty damn good. He’s got at least a few more years left in him.”
“And he’s definitely been playing better than Connelly has.”
Several heads nodded in agreement with Hunter’s quiet statement. Caleb brushed off the rumors, chalking them up to nonsense—even if he had heard the same thing a few weeks ago. Yeah, trades happened all the time. And yeah, Connelly was playing like shit. They’d probably just send him down to the Bombers and pull one of the goalies from there. That’s the only thing that made sense.
“They’re not going to trade Connelly. No way. We just need to talk some sense into him, get his head back in the game—especially before this exhibition game.”
“Why before the exhibition game? Wait. No fucking way.” Jacob swallowed back a bark of laughter then popped Caleb in the shoulder. “You’re not actually worried about it, are you? I mean, I don’t care how good you think they might be, there’s no way the Blades can touch us. Not happening.”
“No, probably not,” Caleb ag
reed. “But how fucking mortifying would it be if they did?”
“Yeah. Again—not happening.”
“But what if—”
“No buts.” Jacob leaned to the side and draped a heavy arm around Caleb’s shoulders. “And if you’re that worried about it, I suggest you start working on your woman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just what I said. She’s your woman, right? Maybe you need to think about working a little harder to wear her sweet ass out. Make her so tired the night before the game, she won’t be able to think about anything else except soaking her bruised muscles.”
Shane tapped him on the shoulder with a leer, one that made Caleb cringe. Christ, had he ever talked that way? Yeah, probably. And just like Shane, he hadn’t really meant it, it was nothing more than just talk—which made him feel even worse. And he couldn’t say a damn thing in response, not unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of a dozen jokes. So he kept quiet as Shane pushed away from the table.
“Now if you guys will excuse me, I have some women to enlighten.”
Laughter greeted Shane’s parting words. Several of the other guys stood up to join him, making their way over to the group of waiting bunnies. Caleb glanced around, realized it was just him and Jaxon and Hunter left.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Usually he was the first one to leave, the first one to find eager company for the night. The idea held no appeal and hadn’t for a long time.
“You’re not really thinking of taking Jacob’s advice, are you?”
“What? Hell no. And I don’t think it was really advice. I’m pretty sure he was just talking big, trying to show off.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. He’s got an ego the size of an Olympic rink.” Jaxon guzzled the last of his beer then pushed away from the table. “I’m heading up.”
Hunter looked up in surprise. “What? Already? I thought we were going to find a club or something.”
“Nah. I’m done.” He turned toward Caleb. “You going out with these guys?”
Caleb hesitated. Should he go out? It was still early, plenty of time to go find a club somewhere and have a few drinks. It was what they usually did if they got the chance.
Playing Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 3) Page 11