Winger (Seattle Sharks Book 3)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “What’s on your mind, Jackson?” I finally asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew where his head was at.

  He debated for a few seconds before shrugging. “Wondering how things are going.”

  I kept my lips in a line, my jaw locked.

  “From the force behind the hit and the way you were distracted, I’m guessing not so good?”

  Gage glanced between us as he shucked his bag to the floor, and sat next to Rory.

  “It’s not going bad,” I admitted. “We spend almost every day together.”

  “And you’re…over it?” Gage asked.

  “No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. She’s the most fun person, even when she’s in a hormonal rage because there is no ice cream left in the house.” I chuckled to myself, remembering her rant a couple of weeks ago as she stomped through the house grumbling about the lack of her favorite treat. I’d calmed her by showing her the deep freeze in the garage where I’d stockpiled a dozen pints.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  I raked my fingers through my hair. The pick-up game had been just what I needed—a workout for my overly tense body. Sorting out frustrations on the ice had always been my go-to when life became stressful, but the guy-talk after? Not exactly what I was looking for.

  My boys always knew how to cut to the quick with me, which was why I’d avoided them for the past month. They were my brothers, but I wasn’t ready to admit how terrified I was of what was happening between Jeanine and me.

  Or not happening.

  “It’s cool, Warren,” Gage said. “You don’t have to talk to us. We’ve just been there before. And I remember being a chaotic mess up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “And I wouldn’t have shaken it if you two hadn’t talked some sense into me.”

  Rory nodded in agreement.

  “Right,” I said. “I get that. And I was happy to be there for each of you, but this is so drastically different from falling for your best friend,” I said, glancing at Gage. “And then losing your mind over a woman who needed your help,” I continued and eyed Rory. “What happened to us is so damn backward, not that I regret it.”

  Which was the damn truth.

  I never knew I wanted this until she showed up at the rink that day spitting fire and looking incredible carrying my child.

  Even if given the choice, I wouldn’t go back in time and put a condom on.

  “I don’t think she wants more from me. Even after these last few weeks—which have been the best of my life—she hasn’t opened fully to me, yet.”

  “You can’t give up,” Rory said the words he’d said to me a hundred times before.

  “I’m not.” I glanced at both of them, watching as Bentley rounded the corner. He stopped suddenly as he surveyed the serious looks between the three of us.

  “My bad,” he said, hands raised as he hurried to his locker. “Grab my shit and be out of here.” He rushed through the process, and I flashed the rookie a smile as he waved goodbye.

  “He’s changed,” I said, nodding. “I hate to say it, but I might actually like him.”

  Gage laughed. “Told you.”

  They fell silent.

  Patient.

  Waiting.

  Fucking hell.

  “I think I’m falling for her.”

  There.

  I said it.

  Something I’d never said before in my life.

  “I think I’m in love with her,” I continued like it needed clarification.

  “You have to tell her,” Gage said on the end of a sigh. He knew how deep of a situation this was, how delicate. That was the bonus of the guys knowing Jeannine—they knew how independent she was, how she’d never wanted to have to rely on someone before.

  And I didn’t want her to just rely on me—I knew she’d be fine without me. She’d be an amazing mother regardless if I was in her life or not.

  But I wanted her to have the choice.

  The option to ask for help.

  Or for me to simply give it to her without her needing to speak it. That is what I’d been trying to do these last weeks, but I never wanted to cross a line with her. Never wanted to push her too far too soon, so terrified she’d run scared.

  “Before it gets deeper,” Rory added, all of us rising, ready to get the hell out of the locker room where all the heavy had landed.

  “Right,” I said. “If I could just figure out a way to do that without her thinking I’m only saying it because of the baby.”

  Rory arched a brow as we headed toward the doors.

  “You know it’s not just the baby,” I said, glaring at him.

  “We know,” Gage said, holding the door open for us.

  “I just like to fuck with you, man,” Rory said. “We could tell that first day you were back. You should’ve been spouting off about your Canada conquests. Instead, you didn’t say a word. You did everything you could to avoid asking us about Jeannine. We knew then.”

  “Glad you two did,” I said, following them out. “Took me a bit longer.”

  “Hard to change a lifetime of habits in a matter of seconds,” Gage said.

  “That’s true.” I nodded as we made it down the hallway. “For Nine too—”

  “Warren Kinley,” a sugary sweet, slightly familiar female voice called as we rounded the corner toward the exit to the parking lot. “You’re a hard man to find!” The tease in her voice brought her face to my mind, and I cringed as I slowly turned, finding her leaning near the glass doors.

  Shay Morgan.

  Petite, brunette, puck bunny.

  A line I’d never crossed because she was too invested—farther than wearing my number on her back, but showing up to places no one knew I’d be. That, and I’d caught her more times than I could count being hateful to other fans. That shit didn’t fly with me.

  Didn’t matter, she constantly tried to change my mind.

  “We’ll wait for you outside,” Rory said, both guys flashing me a good luck look.

  I resisted the urge to flip them both off for leaving me hanging. Instead, I gripped my gear bag on my shoulder a little tighter.

  “How’s it going, Shay?” I asked, trying for polite but coming out a bit irritated.

  I’d been cordial, and denied her in the best way I possibly could, but she kept coming back. Rory had learned the hard way to never cross the line with puck bunnies that were stalker level, and I would not repeat his mistake. Of course, everything had worked out in the end, but Linda had nearly destroyed his and Paige’s relationship.

  “Better now that you’re back.” She practically purred as she swished her hips, spanning the distance between us in a matter of strides. Reaching toward me, she trailed her red-polished fingers over my chest. “Olympics were fun, I take it?”

  I took a step back, her hand hovering in the space where I’d been before she dropped it. She narrowed her gaze but kept that too sweet smile on her face, the one that never reached her eyes.

  Fuck, why does the rink have to be lax in the offseason?

  Usually, my driver would’ve run interference for me and warned me of anything like this before I came out of the room. But I always gave him time off when we weren’t playing.

  “You want to get a drink?” she asked, pushing her chest out, the low cut v-neck shirt showing off her cleavage.

  Not even a flicker.

  A twitch.

  Nothing.

  I hadn’t had sex in seven months and not even a flash of heat.

  Before, I knew I’d never sleep with her, but I’d at least been able to appreciate her looks, whether she looked at me like a piece of meat or not.

  Now?

  Nothing thrummed in my blood.

  Nothing urged me to rush out and find a suitable woman for the night who had the same plans as me—no strings, just fun, all good.

  “No thanks,” I said, turning toward the exit. “I’m actually meeting someone in a few. Have a good one!” I called over my shoulder, high-tailing it
out there before she could try to sink her claws into me. I knew I was a conquest to her, nothing more, and that never bothered me. But now that everything had changed, I didn’t want to linger for one second too long. I knew from Rory’s experiences that it only took a picture to crush a heart.

  I would never let that happen to Nine.

  And we weren’t even dating.

  Holy fuck, I really am in love with her.

  Rory and Gage leaned against my car, their bags already stored in their own cars.

  “How’d that go?” Rory asked.

  “Fine.” I shrugged. “I kind of hoped being away would’ve cooled the bunny interest.”

  “Never going to happen,” Gage said, pointing at his wedding ring. “I’ve been wearing this since we got engaged. They still come around.”

  “It’s true,” Rory said. “Some of them, more so.”

  “How did you deal with it?” I asked him. “You’ve had it worst.”

  “Yeah,” Gage cut in. “Why do you think that is?”

  “That I’ve had more puck bunny stalker drama than you two?” Rory asked.

  We both nodded.

  He rolled his eyes. “Duh,” he said. “It’s because I’m prettier than the pair of you.”

  Gage and I dropped our jaws in mock shock.

  “You’re definitely the most high-maintenance out of all of us,” I said.

  “You do love to preen in front of the mirror for hours on end.” Gage laughed.

  He flipped us both off. “You want my advice or not?”

  I cleared my throat and waved my hand at him. “Lay it on me.”

  “Don’t let them come near you,” he said.

  “Well, thanks. That helps a ton. Especially in cases like just now where I can’t help it.”

  “I know. But take precautions. Check the place out before you go in—wherever that is. Or stay in.”

  “That sounds a lot like letting them control my life.”

  Rory shrugged. “You don’t have to live that way…if…”

  “If what?”

  He clamped his hand on my shoulder. “You tell her she’s the only one for you. Tell her you love her. Then let her know about the bunnies and the lengths they go to get a taste.”

  The notion shot ice-cold terror through my blood. “And if I’m not ready?”

  Rory patted my shoulder, releasing me. “Then you become a hermit.”

  “Brilliant.”

  Gage flashed me a sympathetic look. “Sounds easier to fess up.”

  “Yeah, and send her running the opposite direction because I’m not what she wants.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I feel it.” I fished my keys out of my pocket. “Anyway,” I said, a pathetic transition to end the discussion. “Thanks for the pick0up game.” I laughed. “And the pep-talk.”

  “Anytime,” Rory said, heading to his car.

  “You know it,” Gage added, turning the opposite direction toward his.

  As I sank behind the wheel of mine, I let out a heavy sigh. The last thing I wanted was for some picture to surface—past or future—that would paint me in a compromising position with a bunny.

  Not if it would hurt Jeannine.

  I would do anything to keep that from happening.

  Even become a hermit.

  Lucky for me, I had a seven months pregnant roommate who often grumbled when I suggested an outing.

  The image of her pout set my blood on fire, shooting straight to my dick.

  Fuck, the woman was fully pregnant with my child, and she was the sexist person I’d ever laid eyes on.

  And I’m in love with her.

  And she doesn’t have a clue.

  Maybe it was time to tell her.

  If I can’t?

  Then maybe I could show her.

  Chapter 9

  Jeannine

  “You two are the best,” I said as Paige pulled into Warren’s driveway.

  “I’m just shocked the man let you out of the house,” Bailey teased from the backseat.

  “Truth,” Paige said, parking in front of our house…his house.

  Shit, when did I start thinking of it as ours?

  “Y’all are one to talk! You two rarely leave your houses besides for work.” I teased.

  “A ten-month-old and a fourteen-month-old are kind of a handful,” Paige said, laughing.

  “Excuses.” I dramatically rolled my eyes. I’d gotten some good Ethan and Daphne time before Gage’s mom showed up to watch them during our shopping trip—Lettie was busy with kindergarten.

  “Warren is taking the list and the pregnancy seriously,” Paige continued like I hadn’t made the joke.

  I shifted in the passenger seat so I could see them both. “I know.”

  Bailey’s eyes lit up, and Paige flashed me a told-you-so look.

  “I know,” I said again, and this time I couldn’t help but smile.

  “And we know you’ve been having fun on these dates he’s taken you on every week,” Bailey said, fishing again.

  They’d been after me throughout our girl’s day, digging for intel on what happened between Warren and myself when the lights went out.

  The truth was…nothing.

  And it was getting harder.

  It was like I could practically feel the incredibly strong, sex-god-of-a-Shark sleeping in the room across the hall. He was so close, yet so far, and I hated that I wanted him as close to me as humanly possible.

  “We’ve been on six dates,” I said. “And, yes, I’m just as shocked as you two that I’ve enjoyed them.”

  That much was true. I’d never been the overly-romantic-date girl. Never had the time to fall heart first into a relationship in order for there to be dates like the ones Warren had crossed off the list. But, with him literally anything was fun—even the brunch and antique mall had been a blast.

  “See,” Paige said. “With the right person—”

  “He makes me laugh.” I cut her off before she could launch into another Warren-might-be-the-one speech. She and Bailey totally agreed on it after they’d seen me. They said I was glowing—happier than I’d ever been. I told them it was baby-ball, not Warren, but even I wasn’t sure anymore. “And,” I continued. “Even if this is all just a fantasy? A few checkmarks on a list to prove he is dependable enough to be in the baby-ball’s life?” I sighed, leaning my head back against the headrest, not wanting to admit the warmth in my heart. “It’s the best time I’ve had in…” I let the sentence hang there as I shook my head. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d been happier.

  “That’s great!” Bailey squeezed my shoulder, and Paige nodded enthusiastically.

  “Is it?” I asked. “What if the last item gets crossed off the list and I agree to let him be in our lives and he bolts? Or he wants to go back to being the playboy Shark while checking in on baby-ball on the weekends? What if we’ll always be second to his career—”

  “What if it’s not for the sake of the list at all?” Paige cut me off. “What if he’s actually trying? What if he wants this? With you?”

  I swallowed hard. I’d never allowed myself to believe it could be real, no matter how much my heart whispered for it to be true.

  “What if it doesn’t work out?” My voice was hushed. Even with my two best friends, I was terrified of admitting how much I’d fallen for the man.

  “What if it does?” Bailey challenged. “Think about it. What if it did work out? Would it be worth it?”

  “The risk of getting hurt? The risk of hurting the baby-ball because its mom went all damsel without thinking?”

  “Falling in love doesn’t make you a damsel,” Paige chided. “Loving someone takes a strength I’d never known.”

  “Truth,” Bailey said.

  “I never said I was in love with him.” The statement was clear but the sting in my chest sharp.

  Why did that feel like a lie?

  “And that’s okay,” Bailey said. �
��We just don’t want you to not explore something because you’re scared or because you think it makes you weak.”

  Paige’s eyes went from serious to sincere and back again. “You’re never going to be your mother.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes glittering.

  One of my biggest fears—beyond that of falling for Warren and him bolting the second he went back on Shark mode—was turning out like my mother.

  Which was absent.

  Abusive.

  Same with my dad.

  They’d divorced when I was three, and I never saw him again.

  And mom? Well, she blamed me for so many years, punished me for something out of my control. So, once I could, I’d left and never looked back.

  Thank God for Paige and her family taking me in.

  I wouldn’t be where I was today without her, and a shit-ton of hard work.

  “You two don’t know me,” I finally said, wiping under my eyes.

  They laughed, both of them leaning in to give me a big hug. I shifted in the seat, opening the door.

  “Just let yourself be open, Nine,” Paige called as I hefted myself out of her car.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, waddling around toward the back of it. “Open myself up to rainbows and puppies. Got it. Pop the trunk.”

  They chuckled as I grabbed the four shopping bags that were mine out of her trunk. I bent slightly as I passed her opened passenger window. “I love you both,” I said.

  “See?” Bailey grinned. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  I flipped her off and waddled to the front door. I struggled with my key for a minute as Paige drove away. Finally, I managed to get the door open and shut without dropping a single bag.

  The smell of burnt chocolate instantly hit my nose, and I hurried into the kitchen. “Whoa,” I blurted as I dropped my bags on the island.

  “Whoa,” Warren said, eyeing the bags. A once-white apron strained at the seams over his massive chest. The fabric now covered in streaks of glistening chocolate, puffs of white flour, and well…it looked like just about every baking ingredient he had in his kitchen.

  The countertops were worse than his apron, the beautiful range more-so. A stand mixer was still rotating too fast, splashing the egg-yolk-covered countertops with more chocolate batter.