He stepped back into her personal space and leaned closer. "The only reason I do this is because I like playing with you," he said in a low voice.
"Well, you won't be playing with me later if we don't eat soon."
"True," he conceded.
"So we're going to Ryan's and then food?"
"Exactly."
She grabbed her keys, put her phone in her back pocket and they were off. As per the usual routine, Andy watched from a spot in the hallway while smiling at Sydney as she loudly unlocked Ryan's door with the spare key.
"Hey, babe," she said as she closed the door. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I—"
Sydney stopped and stared. Usually, this was the part where she pulled out the whole "Who are you?" routine, but she knew exactly who the woman was sitting on Ryan's sofa wearing only a Pirates jersey.
"Lucy?"
"Morning," she said.
Sydney watched in shock as her best friend took a sip of coffee from one of Ryan's mugs.
"What… what is going on? Why are you here?"
Ryan walked out of his bedroom wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. "Oh, hey, Sydney! I didn't hear you walk in."
"Don't you dare 'Oh, hey' me! What is going on?"
Ryan just gave her a huge smile. "Well, Sydney, the thing is that when a man and woman like each other—" There was a knock at the door. "Huh. I wonder who that could be," Ryan said in a mocking tone as he walked to the door.
Sydney ducked her head. "Please don't answer that," she muttered.
Ryan threw open the door, his smile disappearing. "Andy?" he said in mock surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, man!" he replied as he walked in the door. "I thought we could get a run in before training and… Sydney?"
Sydney just shook her head, hoping Andy would get the hint that he should stop. He didn't.
"What are you doing here?" he asked in mock anger.
"Please don't," she replied quietly.
"Don't what? Don't ask why my girlfriend is here in Ryan McCloud's apartment?"
"Hey, Andy!"
"Hey, Lucy," he said, waving to the woman on the couch.
He turned back to Sydney, about to say something else, when he froze. His eyes went wide, and he turned back to the living room to confirm what he thought he had seen the first time. Sydney could see the realization setting in as he stared at the half-naked woman in Ryan's apartment.
"Lucy?" he whispered apprehensively.
"What's up?" she replied. "Hey, Ryan just made a fresh pot of coffee if you guys want some. It's actually really good."
She stood up with Ryan's jersey barely covering her ass as she wandered over to the kitchen. Andy immediately responded by covering his eyes with his hands.
"For the love of all things, please put some pants on," he told her.
"Why? Do my legs not look toned enough for the trainer?"
"No, they're just legs… and a jersey."
"And they look good in a jersey," Ryan added.
"Gross," Sydney said. Lucy stopped and gave her a mocking stare. "I mean, yeah, your legs do look good in a jersey, but… it's Ryan's jersey."
"Damn right it is," he said proudly.
Lucy walked over and kissed Ryan before heading back to his bedroom to get her pants. It gave Sydney and Andy plenty of time to stand there quietly in the apartment, trying to wrap their minds around what was going on.
"So you and Lucy?" Andy finally asked.
Ryan smiled proudly. "Me and Lucy."
"And how long has this been going on?" Sydney asked.
"Since June," he replied casually.
"June?" Sydney yelled.
"June."
Lucy walked back in with her jeans on from the night before. She had apparently decided to keep Ryan's jersey instead of changing into a different shirt. Putting her arm around Ryan's waist, she was rewarded with a quick peck on her forehead from her… boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Sydney wasn't sure what to label them as she stared at the admittedly cute couple in front of her.
"Why didn't you say something?" she asked.
"First, we didn't know what this was, and then there was the plea agreement with John and your engagement." Lucy gave a warm smile to her friend. "We just wanted to find the right time to tell you."
Ryan nodded. "So we talked last night and decided maybe it was time."
"But we went to dinner last night," she said.
"Yeah, we did," Lucy said. "And then I went down to get my car from the parking lot."
A piece of this puzzle finally fell into place. "You didn't get your car," Sydney said.
Lucy shook her head.
"You took the elevator from the parking garage up here instead of driving home."
Her friend nodded. "Although I did wait a few minutes before I came up so I wouldn't run into you."
Wow. It had been months and Sydney never knew. She couldn't decide if it was because she was a bad friend for not catching any clues or because Ryan and Lucy were just that good at hiding their relationship. She also wasn't sure how she felt about all of this. But as she looked at the pair across from her, she could tell they were happy. If they were happy, it was just going to be something she would have to get used to. Maybe Sydney could start with breakfast.
"So Andy and I were about to go get some food."
Andy nodded, picking up on Sydney's plan. "You should come with us. You know, if you want to," he added hesitantly.
"Um, yeah, that sounds good," Lucy said.
She looked up at Ryan who simply smiled affirmatively down at her.
Sydney smiled and took Andy's hand. "We would love that," she said. "We'll wait outside in the hall for you?"
"Yeah," Lucy replied.
Andy pulled her hand as they shut the door behind them. And that's when they both went wide eyed, staring in amazement at each other.
"Did you know?" he asked in an exaggerated whisper.
"I didn't know!"
"Wow."
"Wow," she replied.
Andy gave her a determined look. "Just to be clear though. We're only having a quick breakfast with them."
"You seem very intense about breakfast."
His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer. "I'm intense about what I'm going to do to you after breakfast," he said in a husky voice. "You know, if I can get the thought of those two together out of my head."
Sydney sighed. "They did look happy though, didn't they?"
"They did," he replied.
"I guess Lucy must think she's pretty lucky to date a hockey player."
"Lucky, huh?"
Sydney gave him a big smile. "Well, not everyone can call the team trainer their fiancé."
"I love when you call me your fiancé."
"And I love you, fiancé."
Acknowledgements
Thank you so much for reading this book!
A huge thanks to my biggest fan, my husband, who is always encouraging me and asking questions about self-published romance writers.
Thank you to all of you for not only giving this book a chance but my other as well. It's amazing to have your awesome support.
And thank you to my beta Kaitlyn for her feedback, especially that little "Opa!" in her notes when I mentioned flaming cheese.
When Jenny Redford isn't working on her next story, she has a pair of knitting needles in her hands while cheering on her favorite hockey team (even though they're going through a rebuilding year).
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More from Jenny Redford
The Detroit Pirates series
<
br /> For the Captain
Excerpt: Yo Ho Ho
The cursor on her computer screen was taunting her. On and off. On and off. It knew she had no ideas and no plans. It knew she was stuck.
It was taking pleasure in her writer's block.
Maxine Quinn wasn't much for bragging when it came to her work. She knew she was part an elite group of reporters who had to scrape and fight to finally get a coveted job covering the Detroit Pirates as a reporter. She knew it took quite a bit of talent and tough work to get there. But she also knew she was good. She could write a post-game story in record time with the perfect quotes from players, the most accurate stats to fill in the story, and the cleanest copy on deadline. She could break news about a player's injury or a coaching change before anyone else.
She also hated writing her columns for the Sunday paper. They had to be fun or interesting feature pieces about the players' lives — something fans don't see on the ice. But she had been covering the team long enough to know that she wasn't a feature writer.
So that cursor blinked and blinked, and the only words on her screen were, "The intro goes here."
Enough of this, Max thought as she forcefully shoved her chair aside and stomped over to the hotel's mini bar. She knew it was a stereotype for a reporter to drink a little liquor to get the fingers flying over a keyboard, but there was a reason it was a stereotype. Sometimes, it was actually true.
Max grabbed a small bottle of whiskey and searched for a glass while she blindly plunged her hand into the ice bucket. The frozen water sent shivers up her spine as her hand sunk up to the wrist in the bucket. Of course most the ice she got two hours earlier when she started this writing charade had already melted. She let out an audible groan, slipped on the fluffy bunny slippers she always had on the road with her, and headed out the door towards the hotel's vending machine.
The halls were quiet as she wandered past the players' rooms. She could hear hockey games through the doors of a few rooms as players tried to assess how the competition was doing. Others were quiet. It was late after all, and these were athletes who pushed their bodies to the limits. Even they needed a little sleep.
Max finally found what she was looking for, heading into the room with the ice machine. But she froze in the doorway, staring at the tall athletic man standing in front of the machine.
Logan Moore.
Without a shirt.
She watched as his gaze fell on her slippers, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Well, well, well. I wonder who's wandering the halls in bunny slippers at this hour."
His eyes casually wandered from her feet as they took in her body. She wouldn't deny that she noticed their slight pause when they reached her chest before finally looking at her face. (She would totally deny the fact that it sent heat down her spine, even though it did.)
"Hello."
She took a step forward, trying to act cool. This was just two people — a player and a reporter — running into each other at the ice machine. No big deal. But as she got closer, Logan took a step back and winced slightly in pain. Her heart squeezed a bit with emotion, then her head snapped her back to reality. She was a reporter, and his reaction has awakened the journalistic instincts in her.
"You OK?" she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
His smile returned, still teasing. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"
"You're in pain, and you left a bucket overflowing with ice on the machine."
He shrugged his shoulders, causing him to wince again. "Let's just say I'm officially fine."
"What about unofficially?"
Logan put one hand on his hip, while he kept his other arm held close to his body. "I bruised my shoulder again. You know nothing."
"My lips are sealed."
Max acted as if she was turning an imaginary lock on his lips, something she just did without thinking. But she also didn't think Logan's eyes would immediately snap to her mouth and linger there. She felt like her hand was suddenly on fire and she quickly moved it away from her mouth.
She needed ice. Cold ice. Probably a cold shower after this too. But Logan's bucket was still sitting on the machine.
"Need a hand with this?"
He reached his arm out, trying to wordlessly tell her that yes, he needed some help, and he wasn't going to make a big deal out of asking for it so just give him the damn bucket.
Max grabbed it and turned, doing as he had only sort of asked. "That's a lot of ice for a bruised shoulder."
He gave her a mocking smile in return. "It's not just for me. Birdie is getting nervous about tomorrow's game and is doing that thing where he chews on ice to calm himself down."
"That is so damn annoying."
"I know!" He threw his hand up in exasperation, sending some cubes to floor. "Anyways, be thankful he isn't your roommate."
Max just gave him a smirk. She was one of the few women who traveled on the road with the team. She had no roommate, which was convenient considering last year's incident.
The Incident. Max could feel her cheeks flush with heat as the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. She knew she wasn't the only one who noticed judging by the way Logan's smile disappeared from his face.
She quickly turned and started filling her bucket up, hoping the move would distract both of them from saying things that shouldn't be said.
Max could hear the ice in Logan's bucket shift as he cleared his throat. "So, uh, what brings you here so late?"
"Bruised shoulder."
The small laugh from Logan eased the tension again, letting her know that it was OK to move on from that awkward moment.
"Yeah, I bet lugging a typewriter around can do that to you," he said.
See? Things didn't have to be awkward.
"This is the 21st century. It's a laptop, and it's taunting me."
His eyebrow quirked up. "Taunting you?"
"I'm trying to write a column for Sunday, and it won't let me."
"Yeah, I'm sure it's the laptop's fault," he teased. "So what's the ice for?"
"Whiskey."
He walked up to her — so close she could feel his breath on her neck and make her toes curl in her bunny slippers. Max was going to need more than one whiskey to calm down tonight.
"Sounds like you're going to have a better night than I am."
Logan Moore gave her a wink and wandered out, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her bucket of ice.
Damn that man.
She was going to need the ice, the whiskey and a cold shower. Definitely a cold shower. She'd just have to write that stupid column tomorrow.
Logan trudged back to his hotel room with the ice bucket tucked under his good arm. Of all the women in the world, why did he have to run into the one he couldn't have? Wearing tight black leggings and those adorable pink fluffy bunny slippers she insisted on bringing with her on road trips. Oh yeah, he knew about the slippers. Hell, the whole damn team knew about her slippers.
But there were things the whole damn team didn't know about her. Things only Logan knew.
He gently kicked the door to his hotel room since his hands were full with an ice bucket and hi shoulder injury. He could hear his lug of a roommate lumbering over before swinging the door open.
Alex Orlov scowled at him from the doorway. "Don't you have a key?"
"Nice to see you, too, Birdie," he replied sarcastically.
"Took you long enough."
Alex took a handful of ice from the bucket and started chewing. Then he finally moved out of the way to let his teammate back in before closing the door behind him.
"It's not easy to fulfill the ice needs of a huge defenseman."
Logan dropped the bucket on the dresser and headed for the bathroom to get a towel. But Alex just stood there, blocking his way.
"I'm going to get punched tomorrow, aren't I?"
Hockey players were known to be tough guys, but Alex sounded a little dejected and demoralized. Loga
n used his good arm to put a hand on Alex's shoulder with the Russian eagle tattooed on it.
"We'll do our best as a team to stay out of trouble so that doesn't happen," he tried to say reassuringly.
"So in other words, I'm going to get punched tomorrow."
Logan shrugged his good shoulder. "Probably."
Alex sighed and threw more ice chips from his hand into his mouth. "Don't worry," he said between bites. "I'll make sure none of them get to your bad arm."
"Not that reassuring, but I'll take it."
Logan pushed past and grabbed a towel from the bathroom rack, letting it unfold as he walked back into the room. He started to grab the liner of the ice bucket before a hand came swooping around him.
"One more bite!" Alex popped the ice cubes in his mouth and turned back to the bathroom. "I'm taking a hot shower. Don't bug me," he said before slamming the bathroom door shut behind him.
Logan just shook his head and grabbed the plastic bag out of the bucket, tying a quick knot in it with one hand — a trick he had learned after plenty of injuries in the past. He gathered up his cold prize and his towel, dragging both back to his bed where he was able to position the whole thing over his sore shoulder.
And then he sat. Damn, he needed that coolness on his shoulder, calming the ache that had been lingering from a hit two days ago. It would be fine if he had a week off after that game in Alberta, but he wasn't a football player. He was a hockey player in the middle of the regular season. He couldn't just sit and heal for six days. But he could sit now and have some quiet time to let his mind find some peace.
Instead, it found Maxine Quinn.
There were two memories that always stuck out in Logan's mind when it came to Max. The first was the day he met her almost three years ago when he got sent to the Detroit Pirates right at the trade deadline. That was fine by him. His Toronto team had been at its worst while the Pirates were in playoff contention. So he packed up some clothes and his hockey gear in his Land Rover and drove the four hours to Detroit with barely a passing thought of the team he was leaving behind.
He was unpacking his gear in his new locker room when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Buried Treasure (The Detroit Pirates Book 2) Page 16