“Ah, there she is, my Ivy-girl. Now they’re both here. Time for some introductions. If you’ll excuse me, Gentry?”
“Absolutely, Coach.”
He headed off into the party crowd, calling for a meeting, and I was still blinking when Lukas and Connor came to stand beside me.
“What was that about?” Connor asked as we stared up at where Coach stood on the deck, waiting for us to assemble below him.
“Coach wants me to keep the players away from his daughters.”
“Ha!” Lukas laughed. “You’re a blocker, yes?”
“Yes, that’s what they call me. It’s a nickname from the pads,” I explained to him. One day he’d get the American slang right, and I wouldn’t have to translate.
“No,” he shook his head. “You’re supposed to shield the girls. You’re a cockblocker.”
Okay, that was one American phrase he nailed on the head.
“Fuck off, Lukas.”
Connor was still laughing when Coach called us to be quiet.
“Welcome, Sharks! Huge thanks to Gage and Bailey for hosting us today. Sure is a hell of a lot prettier than having a potluck in the locker room!”
A murmur of laughter rolled through the crowd.
“I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you how proud I am of how you’re already playing this season. To help us reach even higher...more cup-like goals, I hired us a statistician straight out of MIT.”
Clapping erupted in our little crowd.
“I figured you’d like that.”
Two figures appeared behind Coach, but from this angle, I couldn't see much.
“I’d also like to welcome home my daughters. Some of you remember them from before they went to college, and to everyone else, hands-off.”
Laughter rolled through the team, and Coach smiled good-naturedly, but his eyes told me he was pretty damn serious.
“So, I’d like you to meet Ivy,” a blonde stepped forward, and she looked just like—
“And Pepper, your new statistician.”
My blonde took his other side, smiling over the banister.
Mother-fucking shitastic son-of-a-bitch, damn. Damn. Damn.
“Twins?” Connor asked, his mouth dropping.
“Identical,” Lukas commented before trying to stifle his laughter.
My eyes locked with Pepper’s, and it was there again, even across the thirty feet that separated us—that sizzling crack of energy.
Maybe they were twins, but they looked different enough that I immediately knew which was mine.
“You’re so fucked,” Lukas said with a shake of his head as the team clapped.
“You mean, you’d like to get fucked?” Connor questioned.
“Nope. That one he got absolutely right,” I answered. Pepper. Her name was Pepper.
The girl I’d just fantasized about fucking against the wall was the one girl I couldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Hell, I was supposed to keep all the guys away from her...while working with her on my stats.
Yeah. “I’m absolutely fucked.”
Chapter 2
Pepper
“Holy hot damn!” Ivy’s tongue was thick as she yelled like we were ten feet away instead of standing with her arm looped through mine. “Would you look at this?” She waved her free arm at the packed pool room before us. “It’s like one giant gorgeous man buffet!”
I darted my eyes around, thankful no one noticed my twin sister’s total lack of filter.
“Come on,” she said, tugging me toward the crowded custom bar Gage had in the corner. “I need another drink.”
“Opposed to the three you had at home?” I teased, but she ignored it. I was shocked she’d managed to keep a straight face during Dad’s mortifying introduction a little bit ago on the deck.
Oblivious to her level of drunk, Ivy hip-bumped her way to a secure spot in front of the bartender Gage hired for this house-party.
“I’m still recovering from Europe,” I said, leaning next to her. Seriously, I couldn’t understand how we could be identical and yet completely different. We’d just moved back home after a whirlwind six-month Europe visit. I only remembered a few months thanks to Ivy’s uncanny ability to get free drinks wherever she went.
“Pepper,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We’ve been home for a week. You should totally be ready to party now.” She tapped the wooden bar with her perfectly polished pink fingernails, flashing the guy behind it her best smile. “Can I have two seven and seven’s please?”
“Sure thing,” he said, turning to grab the goods to make the drinks.
“One!” I blurted so loud the dude jolted, nearly dropping the glasses he’d grabbed. I chuckled awkwardly. “She meant one.”
“Come on, Pepper!” Ivy was straight up whining now like I had denied her a turn at the Barbie dream house. Which I’d only ever done once just to irk her. She’d broken my Captain America action figure earlier the same morning.
“Someone has to be the DD,” I said.
“We took an Uber.”
Damn. Thought she was drunk enough to forget.
“What is your problem?” She asked, wrapping her fingers around the glass the guy set before her. “Are you scared of all Dad’s fine-as-hell Sharks?”
I huffed, taking a second to glance around the room.
Wall-to-wall hockey players.
Our dad’s guys.
The Seattle Sharks.
It’s not that they weren’t equally gorgeous and alluring in their own way, but I knew all too well that nine times out of ten, these guys chose hockey over everything else. Ivy and I had played second to hockey in Dad’s life for as long as I could remember. Though, if I was being fair, we wouldn’t have graduated from MIT without all his hard work.
Great. There’s that Pepper Guilt.
“You so need a drink,” Ivy said, then stood a bit taller. “Or a man.” She arched an eyebrow, scanning the room. “Yes! A good romp will do loads better than a drink. How long has it been? A year? Two?”
I lightly smacked her on her shoulder. “Shut up!” I shook my head. I may have been dying for a good kiss—the kind that shot sparks down my spine—or more, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to find that here.
Except from maybe that gorgeous red.
No. I wouldn’t think about his hands on my hips or how my skin had flushed the second he’d touched me.
I had a code—no hockey players.
Ever.
Especially ones who I’d be working with on a day-to-day basis.
For now, I was content to daydream about Thor busting down my bedroom door with his hammer.
“One drink,” I said and waved the guy down. “And you drop the man business.”
“Deal.” Ivy smirked that winning smile that surfaced any time she talked me into doing something I had no interest in. Like the time we went skinny dipping in the ocean when we were sixteen. Or when we’d stolen Dad’s car to catch a U2 concert two cities over. Or a six-month trek across Europe before we accepted adult jobs.
I thanked the guy when he handed me the drink, spinning to lean my back against the bar.
Dad was across the room, several muscled men hovering around him. Music blared but not blasted, allowing for a good background beat to the various conversations happening all at once and successfully covered up the kids screaming delights from the backyard.
If Dad hadn’t personally asked us both to be here, I wouldn’t have even considered crashing a party hosted at one of the Shark’s house. Though, I couldn’t deny that Gage McPherson had taste, and was one I considered a friend, despite it being years since I’d seen him. His house may be the size of a mansion, but it was obviously a home. Somehow, he was one of the rare ones that juggled a family and his super-star career.
Nine out of ten. There is always one.
And there he was.
“Thanks for having us,” I said as Gage walked by with a wiggling toddler on his hip that could’ve been his mini-me.
Gage smiled, his blue eyes bright as he shifted the toddler to reach out his free arm. He tucked me into a side hug, then jerked Ivy against his chest. “So glad you two came!” He released her. “It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you two. I swear you were both going through a pigtail phase.” He teased.
I snorted, smacking his chest. “One,” I said, holding up a finger. “You may be old, but you’re not ancient. Yet.” He laughed. “And two,” I continued. “I never went through a pigtail phase. That was all Ivy.”
He flinched, an apologetic smile on his face. He focused harder on our long blonde hair, finally noting the soft pink color that dusted the tips of mine. “Sorry,” he said, then glanced at Ivy. “I can never tell the difference. Especially if your hair isn’t a different color, Pepper.”
Ivy laughed. “I swear that’s the only reason she dyes it!” She took another long sip of her drink. “Because legit no one can figure it out.”
“Sorry,” Gage said again, chuckling.
“No worries,” I said, and reached up to finger a small strand. “Pink,” I pointed it out. Maybe I’d gone too soft on the color. Starker shades flipped through my head as I considered switching it up for the season.
“Nice!” He shifted the boy on his hip. “Shouldn’t it be green though?”
My eyes popped. “Why the hell would it be green?”
“Because you’re a Shark now, right?”
“Shark! Shark!” The little boy squealed.
I laughed. “I keep forgetting.”
Gage arched a brow at me. “First official day is tomorrow. Better start remembering.”
Right. I was the newly hired Shark’s Statistician. Adulthood and all that.
Thanks for the reminder.
“Who is that?” Ivy finally set down her drink to point at a fully muscled dude in a tight black shirt across the room. “He’s not married, is he?” She asked before Gage could answer.
Not with all those Bunnies around.
“That’s Crosby,” Gage said, his gaze protective as he tried to grab Ivy’s attention. “And no, he’s not. But—”
“Oh chill,” Ivy cut him off. “I’m just curious. You don’t have to go all big brother on me.”
He chuckled. “You have quite a few of those big brothers here, Ivy. Be cautious. For the younger players sake.”
Even though it had been a few years since we’d seen him, he still remembered Ivy was the wild card.
“Yes, Dad.” Ivy rolled her eyes.
Gage shuddered. “Never again, Ivy.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve got to feed this thing.” He nuzzled his son. “See you two around. Have fun,” he eyed Ivy. “Not too much, though.”
“Good to see you, Gage,” I said as he flashed me a wink and disappeared with the wiggling boy into the crowd.
“I need an intro,” Ivy said, her eyes locked and loaded on Crosby where he still chatted with a few of the other guys and the bunnies around him.
“Good luck,” I said, sipping the way too strong drink. “Gage didn’t make the offer. That means Warren and Rory sure as hell won’t either.”
“Who said I needed them?” Ivy wetted her lips and rolled her shoulders back. “How do I look?”
“You look gorgeous, as always.”
And it was funny because despite being identical, I always thought Ivy looked prettier than me. Not in a jealous, spiteful way, but in a factual way. She exuded confidence, charm, sex appeal—all the things I didn’t. It’s like we were split into identical opposites in the womb—she got the extrovert genes, and I got the introvert ones. She’d rather be the center of attention even in her sleep where I’d much rather be left alone unless absolutely necessary.
Ivy had hundreds of friends.
I had few.
She loved widely and trusted quickly.
It took much more work to earn my trust.
Maybe I was the skeptic because I was born four seconds earlier than her.
“Wingwoman me?” She asked, drawing me back to the party.
“What?” I blinked. “No! I don’t know him. I haven’t had my first day with the team yet.”
“Well,” Ivy said, pushing out her chest. “Now is good a time as any to meet all the newer players we’ve missed out on in the past few years.”
“I don’t want—”
“Love you, Pepper. You’re the best sister ever!” Ivy cut me off, dragging me across the room before I could blink.
There were times I was grateful that she yanked me out of my shell.
Now was definitely not one of those times.
Crosby was six feet of bulk with black hair and stark brown eyes. He turned the second Ivy stopped beside him as if she had some kind of magnet wrapped around her neck. He spared me a glance, then back to Ivy, and then me again. This kind of look had occurred our entire life—so many times I could see when the twin realization hit.
“Hi,” I offered, awkwardly waving even though only a few feet separated him, me, and Ivy. “I’m Pepper Harris. This is my sister Ivy.”
His eyebrows raised. “Crosby,” he said. “Some introduction earlier on the deck.” He sucked his teeth. “Coach’s daughters,” he uttered the term like a challenge.
“And you’re one of our lead defensemen,” I said. “Now that our titles are out of the way—”
Ivy elbowed me in the ribs, cutting off my sharp retort. I flashed her a subdued glare. She knew I couldn’t stand to be labeled as nothing more than the Coach’s daughter. Or Ivy’s twin sister. Someday I’d come up with my own title—a cool one—like The Peppenator or Pepper Prime.
The thought made me snort, which earned me a mortified look from Ivy. For as drunk as she was she sure could lob the guilt my way.
“I’m going to…be elsewhere,” I said, gesturing behind me and backing up without looking.
Right into something very hard and very big.
“Sorry!” I spun around, met face to face with the big hard thing. A chest, chiseled, broad, and covered in a soft black cotton T. I looked up. And up. Until I locked eyes with the most intense pair of green eyes I’d ever seen in my life.
Oh holy hell.
I hadn’t noticed how green Eric Gentry’s eyes were in the hallway earlier.
Damn. Damn.
Two steps out of one awkward situation and I’d smacked right into another.
A totally, stupidly hot piece of awkward.
He’s a Shark!
Right.
“All good,” he said, grinning down at me with no move to leave. “So, Pepper,” he said my name like a victory.
My lips parted, the words tying on my tongue. No one ever guessed my name first. It was always Ivy, and after that introduction on the deck, from a far distance, he shouldn’t have been able to tell us apart that easily.
He tilted his head, his long red hair tied back in a man bun. “I like it better than Statistician.”
No coach’s daughter jokes? Fuck, this guy was damn near perfect.
“Yes,” I said and cleared my throat when it cracked. “Enjoying the party, Goalie?” I teased to try and shake off the sparks making my heart race.
“You say that like you have something against them,” He said.
I chuckled. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not at all. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the upcoming weeks. Just surprised to see you again so soon. Was there something you wanted in particular?”
That damn smile. It was somewhere between a sexy smirk and a good-ole’-boy grin.
Goalie. Shark. Hockey player.
Right. Oh well. No harm no foul.
“I wanted…” his voice trailed off and his eyes widened slightly like he was rummaging his brain for an excuse. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s about time I made a new friend. Why not with my new Statistician.”
I laughed, the tension in my shoulders loosening from the joke. “A whole roster of guys isn’t enough friends?” I teased.
“And the other half?”
“They’re old and washed up,” he said, jerking a punch into Warren Kinley’s shoulder as he walked past. “Way to be late, Kinley.”
“Who you calling old?” Warren growled, but there was as much of a smile on his lips as Warren ever had. “At least I can buy a drink, youngen.” Warren laughed and then his eyes bulged when they fell on me.
One second I stood on my own two feet, the next I was crushed against the huge beast’s chest. “When the hell did you get back in town?” He set me down.
“Last week,” I said, smiling. I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could wave Ivy over, but she was incredibly busy putting on the flirt game with Crosby. Lost cause. “How have you been?”
“Fantastic,” he said. And that was that. Warren never was one to overly share.
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
“I’m so glad to see you…” his voice trailed off as he leaned down, eyes scanning the small pieces of pink hair that fell over my shoulders. “Pepper,” he sighed. “Fuck, why do you have to make it so hard to figure out?”
I chuckled. “Wouldn’t be fun any other way.”
Though Eric hadn’t struggled…
“So glad you’re an official Shark now,” Warren said, effectively cutting off my ridiculous thoughts. He gave me another bone crushing hug. “I’ve got to go check on the wife. She’s up to her elbows in food.”
I furrowed my brow, totally not following that line but shrugging anyway.
“It’s not that hard,” Eric said, reminding me of the gorgeous goalie’s presence.
“What?”
“Telling you two apart.” His eyes were focused over my head, and I turned to follow his gaze.
Ivy. Laughing and practically falling all over herself in front of Crosby.
“You don’t think so?” I asked, never taking my eyes off the scene.
The heat increased behind me as Eric shifted to lean closer to my ear. “Nope.”
“Why is that?” I asked, ignoring the chills erupting across my skin.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asked.
“Obviously not,” I chided.
Blocker (Seattle Sharks Book 5) Page 2