Team Player: A Sports Romance Anthology

by Adriana Locke

  “Of course I do.” She rolled her eyes and huffed. “But I spent thirty-one hours traveling due to delays and didn’t make it into town last night like I’d planned. I don’t have the energy to do a big shopping trip and cook dinner. Or to deal with you.”

  “Could you find the energy if it meant I was going to feed you a hot, nutritious meal in fifteen minutes flat?” I pointed at the package of sliced, deli turkey. “Dealing with me has to at least be worth not eating that for dinner, right?”

  “Hmmm.” She tilted her head to the side and tapped her finger against her cheek like my question required deep thought.

  “C’mon, I owe you after I was such an ass earlier. Let me pay you back in food.” But only because we weren’t in a place where I could do so in orgasms. I’d forgo dinner to feast on her pussy without a second thought, even if I was starving. That’s how badly I wanted another taste of her.

  “I guess I could eat a real meal if I didn’t have to cook it myself.”

  She didn’t sound too sure about her answer, so I didn’t give her time to think about it. I scooped up the deli meat, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and mustard and tossed them into the fridge. Then I tugged on her hand and led her out the door and down the hall to my apartment. As I flipped the light switch on the wall, I sighed in relief when I remembered that the cleaners had come today while I was at the rink. Maybe my luck had shifted from shitty to good when it came to Tamara.

  “Grab a seat and get comfortable while I wow you with my cooking skills.” I waved towards the two bar stools at the kitchen counter while I walked past them to grab ingredients from the fridge.

  “I’m not too sure about the wow-ing part, but comfortable sounds good to me.”

  I turned and quirked a brow at her. “Is that doubt I hear in your voice?”

  “It could be.” She propped an elbow on the counter and rested her cheek on her palm. “Or it might just be sheer exhaustion.”

  “This is where my secret weapon comes into play.” I pulled my George Foreman grill from the cabinet, set it down, and plugged it in. “Dinner will be ready in less than ten minutes.”

  “You’re a cheat. That’s not cooking. It’s not even grilling. Did you have to turn in your man card when you bought that thing?” she laughed.

  “Hey! I can grill with the best of ‘em. Charcoal or gas,” I grumbled. “But I don’t always have the time. At least this way, I can eat right during season without having to order out all the time.”

  “You might have a point there,” she conceded as she aimed a smile my way. Finally. I didn’t even mind that it’d come at the expense of her making fun of me. “I’d say that I should get one except my mom would spot it in an instant, and then I’d never hear the end of her lectures on cooking things the right way.”

  I oiled down the grill and placed boneless, skinless chicken breasts on it after sprinkling them with seasoned salt and garlic. “Your mom sounds like a handful. The apple didn’t fall too far from that tree, did it?”

  “Since she’s awesome, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  I measured equal amounts of instant brown rice and water into a dish, covered it, and placed it in the microwave. Then I pulled out my cutting board and sliced a zucchini and squash to put into the steamer. “You mentioned that you were two when you started to skate. Is she the one who got you on the ice?”

  “Yeah.” Her tired eyes light up. “If it was possible to learn how to skate before walking, she would have tried it with me.”

  “She’s that into skating?” My parents were supportive, but they hadn’t cared which sport I played growing up as long as I was doing something. They’d just wanted me busy enough to stay out of trouble. It’d been a stroke of luck when I stumbled across hockey and fell in love with it.

  “She has the Olympic gold medals to prove it, too.”

  I hadn’t been expecting that answer. “For speed skating?”

  “Yup. It’s kind of a crazy story because she grew up in Russia, well it was part of the Soviet Union back then. She earned some of her medals playing for them, but when she was at her third Olympics in Calgary in 1988, she defected to the States with the help of one of the coaches from the US team.”

  “Like Sergei Fedorov?” I asked, thinking of the hockey star who’d defected a couple of years later during the Goodwill Games. “He ended up returning to Russia and playing for a team there after his career with the NHL was over. Has your mom been able to go back, too?”

  “No, but it’s not that she couldn’t have. It’s more because there isn’t anything left for her there,” she answered with a shake of her head. “My grandparents died before she left, and she was an only child. She wasn’t close to anyone in her extended family since she spent most of her time training from a young age.”

  “It sounds like you have that in common with her as well if she had you on skates when you were two.”

  “Yeah, but it was more than worth it since I went to my first Olympics when I was only seventeen.”

  I did a quick tally in my head and figured her to be twenty-four, a year younger than me. What she’d accomplished was damn impressive, and I wanted to slap myself upside the head for not putting the time in to get to know her back when we first met. But I damn well wasn’t going to waste the second chance I’d been given. “Did you get your work ethic from her, too?” I asked while I piled food onto our plates.

  “Yup. I had the best damn coach money didn’t have to buy—my mom.”

  I went to set the plates on the higher part of the counter where she was seated, but then I rethought that decision. “Let’s eat in the living room.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Hell yeah, I was. It meant I’d be on the couch next to her instead of on separate stools at the counter, and getting closer to her was my goal.

  Chapter 6

  Tamara

  My eyes snapped open when a loud banging noise filtered into my dream. I traveled often enough that I was used to waking up in strange beds, but they weren’t normally decorated in masculine colors. And they definitely didn’t smell like the specific cologne a certain sexy hockey player wore. A scent that’d invaded my dreams more times than I wanted to admit over the past few months. “Shit! What the hell did I do?”

  I jackknifed off the mattress, and the thick, navy blue comforter that had been covering me fell to the floor. I was relieved to see I was still wearing my clothes from the night before since I didn’t have any memory of how I’d ended up in Ryan’s bed this time around...and because I heard male voices coming from the living room. I would have preferred to wait out whoever it was out there with Ryan instead of having a witness to my walk of shame, but a quick glance at my phone confirmed that I couldn’t afford the delay.

  “Here goes nothing,” I sighed, pushing open the bedroom door and walking down the short hallway to the living room. I inwardly cringed when I recognized Ryan’s guest as one of his teammates, Alec Rourke. When his blue eyes landed on me and lit up with humor, any hope I had of avoiding gossip at the rink flew out the window.

  “Well, hello there,” he drawled. “It’s suddenly clear why Ryan’s spent the last couple of minutes trying to shove me out his door with promises of a ride to the rink if I’d just give him a little time to get ready first. Since he’s never had a problem with me hanging around, I should have known he was trying to hide something from me.”

  “Shut it, Alec,” Ryan growled.

  “C’mon now, you can’t expect me not to react when Tamara was the last person I expected to see in your place this morning. How in the hell did the two of you manage to hook up last night?”

  “We didn’t hook up!” I yelped. And it was the truth...this time around.

  “Nothing happened,” Ryan backed me up, waving towards the couch. A pillow was at one end, and a blanket was bunched up opposite of it. “Coach set her up in the apartment a couple of doors down, and we bumped into each other in the parking lot. I made her dinner, and then her j
et lag caught up with her and she passed out on the couch about two seconds after she finished eating.”

  “If that’s the case, how’d she end up in your bed?”

  As frustrated as I was with Alec’s nosiness, at least it saved me from having to ask questions to which I should already have the answers. Especially ones that caused a super cute blush to stain Ryan’s cheeks.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “But—”

  “The only way you’re getting a ride to the rink from me is if you disappear for at least fifteen minutes. Now.”

  Alec’s eyes, gleaming with humor, darted between the two of us. “Do speed skaters like it fast in—”

  Ryan slapped a hand over his mouth and pushed him towards the door.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready to go,” he told Alec, right before he shoved him through the door and slammed it in his face.

  “Shit, I’m sorry about that. His ankle is bothering him, and since it’s his right he didn’t want to drive to the rink in case it hurts more after practice,” he explained.

  “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who should be apologizing since I passed out on you like that.” But there was still part of the story that I definitely wanted to understand. “You didn’t say; how did I end up in your bed?”

  His cheeks went ruddy again. “I tried to wake you up, but you were out cold. So I carried you in there and set myself up on the couch.”

  “You carried my stuff to my apartment, made me dinner, and let me sleep in your bed while you took the couch?”

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “I made double my normal amount of coffee, too. Just in case you wanted some.”

  I walked over to him and held my hand out. “Hello, I’m Tamara Antonov. Olympic speed skater and power skating coach. It’s nice to meet you.”

  His low chuckle rang in my ears, and humor filled his gorgeous eyes as he slid his palm against mine. “I take it this means I’m forgiven for being a jackass yesterday.”

  “Absolutely. You more than earned a clean slate as far as I’m concerned. Let’s start over?”

  His hand tightened around mine and he tugged me closer. “Fuck no. There’s no way in hell I’m ever going to agree to a deal that requires me to pretend that the night we spent together didn’t happen." I gulped as he acknowledged the elephant in the room; one I’d managed to avoid the night before. “If you want to avoid talking about it for now, I’ll agree to that but only because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  Putting off that conversation as long as I could worked for me. “If you give me that cup of coffee you mentioned, then you’ve got a deal.”

  “You could get me to agree to almost anything if it meant you’d give me another shot.” My breath caught in my throat when he lowered his head and briefly brushed his lips across my cheek. I’d thought for sure he was going to aim for my mouth, and if I was being honest with myself I’d admit that I was a little disappointed he hadn’t. But also damn impressed—even more so when he went into the kitchen, poured a mug of coffee, and handed it to me without asking if I take anything in it. “How’d you know I take it black?”

  “It seemed like it was a safe assumption since there wasn’t any milk or sugar in with your groceries,” he answered.

  “Aren’t you an observant one?” I snickered.

  “When it comes to you, count on it.” His hazel eyes burned into mine with an intensity that had the laughter drying up in my throat.

  I wasn’t sure how I wanted to respond, so I avoided it by lifting my mug and taking a sip of coffee. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Anytime you want a cup, you know where to find me,” he offered.

  “What brand do you use?”

  He flashed me a sly smile. “I’d tell you my secret, but then I’d have to find a new excuse to get you to come over and see me.”

  I gulped down most of the coffee and set my mug on the counter. Then I sidled closer to him. “I’m not going to turn down meals or coffee that’s a thousand times better than what I could make for myself, but I have a feeling you’re not going to need any tricks to make that happen.” I rose up on my toes and brushed a kiss against his cheek the same way he’d done mine earlier. “But right now, we’ve both got somewhere else to be. You’d better get ready since Alec is waiting for you, and I’ve got to run so I’m not late for my morning training session.”

  “It can’t be easy to train for the Olympics while working.”

  I shrugged as I headed towards his door. “It’s pretty standard for Olympic athletes to have jobs. Well, except for the pros like the hockey players. If only speed skating paid as well.”

  “Hey! I work damn hard for my paycheck.” I looked over my shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at him, smiling when he had the good sense to grimace. “Shit. That made it sound like you don’t when I know damn well that you work hard, too. I’m lucky to make good money doing something I love.”

  “And I’m lucky your team is willing to pay me to turn you guys into the fastest skaters you can be.”

  It wasn’t until the door was shutting behind me that he responded, “I’m lucky for that, too, and it has nothing to do with my skating.”

  Hearing that, I would have walked right back inside if we both didn’t have other places where we had to be. Instead, I forced myself to head down the hallway and slumped against my door in the privacy of my apartment. “I might be lucky, but I have a feeling I’m also in trouble.”

  Chapter 7

  Ryan

  “Where’s your new girlfriend?” Alec asked as we laced up our skates in the locker room. We’d been at the arena for a couple of hours already, but we’d spent most of that time with the trainers. It’s how most of the players usually started their day since we all dealt with injuries throughout the season. They’d treated Alec’s ankle and determined he was okay to skate on it today, but they wanted him to go a little easy on it so he’d be okay for our home game tomorrow night.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, asshat.” Not that it wasn’t what I was aiming for with her, which was a completely new experience for me.

  “Hey, wait. What’d we miss? Yesterday she could barely stand to be on the same ice with you, and now Rourke is calling her your girlfriend?” one of the rookies asked.

  “It’s none of your damn business,” I growled.

  “Ooohhh...he sounds super sensitive about the whole thing. Something definitely happened,” our starting goalie laughed. “It’s a good thing your slap shot’s on point since that’s the only scoring you’re going to do around here.”

  “I don’t know; when I stopped by this morning, they looked awfully—”

  I grabbed one of my elbow pads and tossed it at his face to shut him up. “Like I said; it’s nobody’s business but mine and Tamara’s.”

  I tuned the guys out and focused on getting ready. If I let them get to me, the razzing would only get worse. It’s just how things were.

  Jason waited until we were walking through the tunnel out to the ice to ask, “Something happened, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He tapped my stick with his. “That’s all you’re going to give me? You know I’m not going to give you shit. Hell, I’m the one who told you to go after her in the first place!”

  “Coach set her up with a place in my apartment complex; two doors down from me.” I flashed him a satisfied smirk as I yanked the rink door open.

  “Nice. Although I’m guessing there’s more to the story based on your shit-eating grin,” he drawled, skating past me onto the ice.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “That’s a definite yes.” He shook his head and glided towards the bench to set his water bottle on the wall.

  I scanned the rink, looking for any sign of Tamara and frowning when I didn’t spot her anywhere. “Hey, Coach!” I called out. “Is Tamara sticking around after her training to watch our practice before she does her session with us?”

  “I have no idea what
you’re talking about, Forrester. She isn’t scheduled to be here until Noon, for her power skating drills with the team.”

  I skated over to where he stood. “What about her training? The Olympics are only eleven months away. She can’t take the months she’s coaching us off from her training; not if she wants to make the US team again.”

  “When we were negotiating the contract with her, she was specific about not being able to do morning sessions because it’s when she prefers to train.” He shrugged. “But she didn’t say anything about what rink she was going to be using.”

  I looked around the ice like Tamara would magically appear before me. “She’s not skating here in the mornings?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where’s she skating then?”

  “Like I said. She didn’t say. Is there a specific reason you’re hell-bent on finding her?” His eyes narrowed as he considered me, and he held up a hand when I opened my mouth to answer him. “Forget I asked. Just don’t fuck things up to the extent that we lose our power skating coach.”

  “I can’t fuck things up if I don’t know where she is.”

  “She’ll be here in a couple of hours,” he reminded me. This time, it was me who narrowed their eyes, making him sigh. “I think there are a couple of local rinks that have speed skating clubs who set up short tracks. Maybe she reached out to one of them and asked if she could use their ice. It’d be a great opportunity for them to see her in action and learn how to improve their own skating. If they’re smart, it could even increase awareness and help build their numbers.”

  “We have a whole sheet of ice right here that nobody uses in the mornings while we’re all with the trainers,” I reminded him.

  “And your point is what exactly?”

  “Some of those advantages you described for the local speed skating club apply to us too,” I explained. “I bet the public relations team would love the opportunity to get some reporters in here and talk about how we’re using an Olympic speed skater from the women’s team to help improve our speed while gearing up for the playoffs.”