Centered (Gold Hockey Book 9)

by Elise Faber

She lifted her chin. “Probably more than you’ll ever know, old man.”

  Not the politest remark to the father of the man she loved, but she’d had more than her fair share of pain and regrets over the last decade, and she didn’t want Liam to miss out on a dad who might be pushy, but who also very clearly cared for his son.

  She waited for a cool remark, for a snapped reply.

  Instead, she got a small smile, gray eyes flicking toward Liam. “I like her, son.”

  “I knew you would.”

  His father sighed then stuck out his hand. “We’re doing this all sorts of backward, but I’m Grant. It’s nice to meet you.”

  She shook it. “Mia. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment then she stepped away from Liam. “I should let you two talk—”

  “Oh, no,” Grant said. “My ass has got to get on a plane.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m already in too much hot water with the wife to risk not following orders. Plus, I think you lovebirds could use some privacy without an old man ruining the fun.”

  Mia groaned. “I’m not going to live that down, am I?”

  “I’ve already ordered him a shirt emblazoned with the name,” Liam said dryly.

  She lifted a brow. “How? With your superpowers?”

  “Precisely. Plus, it’ll go with the one you ordered for me.” He kissed the top of her head then looked up at his dad. “I’d say that it was a nice surprise . . .”

  Grant snorted. “Reading you loud and clear, son,” he said, palms out. “No more surprise visits. No phone calls. I can promise that much.”

  “Phone calls are okay.”

  Surprise on his father’s face. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Liam chuckled. “So long as they’re not about hockey.”

  “Roger that.” Grant stepped forward, hugged his son tightly, then he surprised Mia by turning and hugging her, albeit much more gently. “Thanks for kicking my ass, L.G.”

  She leaned back, studied mischievous gray eyes. “What’s with you and your son and abbreviations?”

  Grant frowned. “What?”

  “What does L.G. stand for?”

  A grin. “Little Girl.”

  She sighed, sent her gaze toward the ceiling. “Oh, boy.”

  “What’s your abbreviation?” he asked his son.

  She glanced down, saw that Liam was smiling. “J.B.”

  Grant laughed. “Yeah. I could see it.”

  “See what?” she exclaimed, losing patience. “What the hell does it mean?”

  Another laugh, Grant clapping his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you to deal with that one.” His chest lifted and fell on a quiet breath. “And . . . I’m sorry.”

  Mia forgot about her annoyance of the phrase I’ll leave you to deal with that one, and had to blink rapidly so that no pesky tears escaped. Hell, these Williamson men were turning her into a watering pot.

  Especially when Liam hugged his dad again and said, “It’s okay.”

  She sniffed, two pairs of identical eyes coming to her, and they broke apart, Liam moving to her side, Grant heading for the door and saying, “Don’t worry, Li. I won’t take that as permission to start up again.”

  “See that you don’t, Dad.”

  Grant opened the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow!”

  Liam stiffened.

  “Kidding!” Grant stepped out, the door starting to close behind him. “Love you, son,” were the last words that came before the panel slid shut.

  She turned to the man who’d so effectively stolen her heart and cupped his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” A brush of his lips, a smile in the touch. “Also, I love you.”

  Warmth. God, this man made her feel so warm, so complete, so . . . loved. But she also wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

  “Nice try,” she muttered. “Now tell me, Sugar, what the hell does J.B. mean?”

  His father had known in an instant. How? Was it some pop culture reference she didn’t get? Or an inside joke with the Williamson clan? Or—

  Firm lips on hers, fingers sliding into her hair. “Wouldn’t you rather hear about the meeting?”

  No. Yes. Dammit. Yes.

  She made a face, knowing that stumbling onto the conversation Liam had been having with his dad, the door having slid open when she’d lifted her hand to knock, had distracted her. The contract was more important than the nickname, though she made a mental note to Google judiciously later.

  “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

  In response, he handed her a packet of papers.

  Brows drawn together, she began reading. The first sentence had her eyebrows relaxing, the next her lips curving up, the rest . . . she looked up, pulse pounding, heart squeezing. “Five years?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, J.B. Five years.”

  She hugged him, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. “Damn,” she said. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to having you around.”

  Liam snorted, wrapped his own arms tightly around her. “Got enough mats for me to clean?”

  “I’m sure I can scrounge a few up.”

  Another laugh. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And then, with the papers that ensured his future would be bright in the Golden State crunched between them, Liam scooped her up into his arms and kissed her.

  He kissed her until her head spun.

  He kissed her until his head spun, apparently.

  He kissed her until his legs gave way and he plunked down onto his ass, right there in the front hallway of the condo.

  Fitting that.

  Even more fitting was him teasing her much later, when he was carrying her naked and pleasured body into the bedroom, saying, “What’s it with you and entryways?”

  And because her mom was in her heart, because this man had made it possible for her to open that heart, it was just as fitting to tease him back, “What’s with you ending up on your ass around me all the time? I mean, it’s a really nice ass, but—ack!”

  He tossed her on the bed, followed her down, and proceeded to show her exactly how much he liked her ass.

  And her. Just her.

  Just her heart, her mind, her body.

  She was enough. For herself. For him. For her happy future.

  But she still didn’t find out what J.B. stood for.

  Epilogue

  Part One

  Mia

  They’d lost.

  It was heartbreaking. As the series had progressed, she’d just kept thinking they would turn it around, they would get that goal, come from behind, sneak out a win.

  But all of that thinking and hoping hadn’t changed anything.

  It was the second round of the playoffs, and the Gold were out.

  Former champions to the end of the season.

  “Damn,” she murmured, waiting until the crowd began clearing out of the Gold Mine before making her way to the PT Suite. She knew her way now. Mandy had even gotten her a pass, saying she had to come see her after every game before she went up to the Family Suite.

  As much as the other women had welcomed her, Mia felt more comfortable with Mandy.

  Maybe it was their shared adoration of book to movie adaptions, or maybe . . . it was just that listening to Mandy banter and order people around reminded Mia of her mother.

  Either way, she’d gotten very good at making Mandy’s special bruise cream.

  Which had definitely been in high demand this late in the season and with the various injuries the team was dealing with.

  Brit out with a dislocated shoulder.

  Blane playing with a broken foot.

  Liam had a hairline fracture in his wrist.

  Kevin had missed two games due to a concussion.

  And that didn’t even include Coop or Logan or any of the rest of the guys, who were all playing with different levels of discomfort.

  “I suppose I can
’t call karate the real sport any longer,” she said, walking into the PT Suite and hugging Mandy. “Your man kicked ass even with that foot.”

  Mandy smiled sadly. “I’m so mad at him for playing.”

  “You have all summer to doctor him up.”

  A pout, but then Mandy squeezed her again. “This is always the worst part. It’s over, and they didn’t win.” She sniffed.

  Mia didn’t point out that all the teams, but one, was in or would be in the same position. She was just as disappointed, albeit for Liam rather than for Blane and the rest of the guys.

  Most of them had won the Cup.

  Liam hadn’t.

  “There will be more opportunities.”

  Mandy nodded, pulling back, and swiped a finger under each eye. “Ignore me,” she said. “I’m hormonal.”

  Mia lifted a brow.

  To which Mandy clamped a hand over her mouth and glanced around. “Tell me no one heard that,” she hissed. “Blane doesn’t even know yet.”

  A grin turned up the corners of her mouth and earned her a swat from Mandy. But when Mia kept grinning, Mandy turned around and saw the man standing behind her. Tall, pretty, and sweaty, he tugged Mandy into his arms. He placed his hand over her belly. “Really?”

  She nodded. “I just found out before the game.”

  Mia looked away when Blane dropped his head, whispered something in Mandy’s ear that made her cheeks flush bright red, but as touched as she was by the scene, it had nothing on the man who was standing in the doorway.

  She went to him, threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Sugar.”

  A squeeze, a soft chuckle. “Digging the knife in, J.B.?”

  Pulling back, she plunked her hands on her hips. “Well, you haven’t given up the goods now, have you?” she asked pertly before softening her tone. “Are you—”

  “I hope to God he’s given up the goods by now,” Coop said, pushing by them.

  “No,” Brit said, inching by them in a suit, her arm still in a sling from the injury. “Liam’s too nice. He’s probably waiting for a diamond ring and flowers.”

  “Are you?” she asked Liam.

  “Am I—?”

  Kevin slid through the door and Liam cursed, tugged them to the side so they were out of the flow of traffic.

  “Am I what?” he asked, able to get the question out the second time.

  “Waiting for a diamond ring and flowers?” she asked, made to head back to the door, to step through it. “I can go get you some, if you need it.”

  A roll of pretty gray eyes. “Smartass.”

  “Your fault.”

  “True.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart, I am.” Then his gaze flicked to the right. “Mandy, I hate to interrupt the love fest, but do you have it?”

  Mia glanced to the side, saw Mandy jump out of Blane’s arms and retrieve a small box from a drawer. So tossed it to Liam, who caught it, and handed it to Mia. “Open it.”

  Her breath caught. It wasn’t the right size for a ring, and it was too soon for that anyway. They’d discussed a future, decided that even though they’d moved from like to love quickly, it made sense to enjoy their time together.

  Or was she wrong?

  She didn’t know jewelry. It could be a ring box.

  Had he changed his mind?

  And if he had, what would her answer be?

  Lips on her ear. “Stop thinking so hard,” he murmured, tearing off the paper, “and just open it.”

  Shaking fingers fumbled with the lid.

  And then she saw inside.

  Her gaze met his, lips curving.

  It wasn’t a ring. It was better. A delicate gold necklace with letter charms that spelled out a word. But not just any word. They spelled out his nickname for her. She ran her fingers over each letter, all ten of them. “That’s what J.B. stands for?”

  Liam grinned, bending to nuzzle at her throat. “Yup.” A nip. “I thought it was fitting.”

  Mandy snatched the box from her hands, causing them to jump apart.

  “Jawbreaker?” She smacked Liam. “What the hell? That’s not an engagement ring like you said.”

  “No, it’s not.” A beat and she turned back to see he’d shifted down to one knee, was holding up a smaller box. “But this is.”

  Mia’s heart leaped.

  She knew what her answer would be, knew it would have never been anything else. Fingers along his jaw, palm cupped his cheek. “Always have to push, don’t you?”

  “You wouldn’t want me any other way,” he said, turning his head to kiss her palm.

  A nod, her eyes filling with tears. “That’s true.”

  “So, is it a yes?” Mandy asked, impatience in every syllable.

  “It’s a yes,” Mia said.

  Liam was on his feet in a second, and she was in his arms in the next, his mouth descending, his lips on hers. And just like that, this man she loved with her whole heart had taken sad and turned it into happy.

  That was his superpower.

  And Mia knew she was so damned lucky to have saved him from becoming a San Franciscan pancake.

  Because he’d saved her right back.

  Epilogue

  Part Two

  Charlotte

  “Damn,” she muttered, sitting down at her computer and slipping off her heels.

  They’d lost.

  Her first year as GM and she hadn’t been able to get the job done.

  She made a show of checking her emails, of sending a few notes to their big sponsors and to the board, thanking them for their support of the team and for a good season, but in reality, all she could think was that she’d lost.

  Fuck, she hated losing.

  Had hated it from the first time she’d lost the Chubby Bunny contest when she’d been a Daisy at Girl Scout camp.

  She still hated it.

  Hell, she’d picked a career whose main focus was building an organization that could win as much as possible, that’s how much she hated losing.

  What she hated even more?

  Being the only female GM in the league and losing in the second round of the playoffs.

  God, was it too much to ask for the Cup, just one more time?

  Probably.

  She sighed. The Gold had won the previous season and two before that. Two out of four was still a hell of a record.

  It just . . . wasn’t her record.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, shutting down her computer and shoving her feet back into her heels. Since that was basically akin to torture after wearing them all day, she was not happy when the knock came at the door, and called, “Come in,” while continuing to pack her bag.

  If only she’d known who was on the other side.

  But unfortunately, she couldn’t see through walls.

  So when the man opened the door and pushed inside her office, Charlotte didn’t have the chance to gird her loins.

  Like she’d been doing all season.

  Because—also unfortunately—she’d made the decision early on in her tenure to bring Logan Walker to the Gold. He was ferociously talented at defense. Big and strong and fast, he’d made an excellent replacement for Stefan Barie this season.

  He was also her ex.

  And just being in the same room with him had her body remembering why he was her ex.

  Cocky smile.

  Sexy body.

  Flaming chemistry.

  But not ready to settle down.

  So, as one might expect, take a young Charlotte Harris, add in one cocky, sexy, scorching Logan Walker, and the result had been a broken heart.

  Not just broken. Shattered.

  The pieces scattered to the four corners of the earth.

  In case anyone was wondering, young intern meets rookie hockey player did not make for a happy ending.

  But that was fine. It was better. She’d gotten tougher and stronger and she’d promised herself that she would never let anyone in t
hat deeply again, never make herself as vulnerable.

  “I knew you’d be like this,” he said, and fuck if that gruff voice didn’t send a shiver down her spine.

  She ignored him, continued packing her computer bag. He’d get to the point, or he wouldn’t, and she’d keep doing what she did best. Putting her head down and charging forward.

  “Always hate losing.”

  His voice was closer now, but she still didn’t look up, even though the spicy scent of his aftershave was drifting through the air, tickling her nose, making her fingers clench on her bag.

  No.

  Ignoring him and his sexy body, his sexy voice, his sexy scent, she packed a bunch of shit she didn’t need, all so she didn’t have to look at him.

  She reached for a pad of sticky notes—

  Warm, calloused hands on hers.

  “You don’t need a sixth pad,” he said, that voice curling over her shoulders, sending heat between her thighs.

  She jerked away. “You don’t know what I need,” she snapped.

  A sigh. A hip resting on her desk. “Why did you pick me up, Char?”

  Charlotte swallowed, zipped her bag closed—with the sixth pad of sticky notes, thank her very much—and forced herself to meet his gaze. “You were the best man for the position. We needed solid D. You brought it.”

  Green eyes, such a rich emerald they almost looked black, locked on hers. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” She picked up her bag. “I’m tired, so I’m sure you’re doubly so.” She started to round the desk but stopped, knowing she needed to be professional. Not only was she the first female GM, but she’d set a standard for herself when she’d joined the organization. “You played well this season and especially during the playoffs.”

  A nod. “Thanks.”

  That confused her. Before, his cocky would have taken over. Today, he seemed modest? Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a lot of cocky this season, at least not when it came to his game play. But it had been eight years since they’d been alone in a room together, she supposed things had to have changed.

  Not that it mattered.

  Things had changed on her front, too.

  She wasn’t the naïve little girl anymore.

  She was strong and powerful and had a whole lot of people depending on her.