Blocker (Seattle Sharks Book 5)

by Samantha Whiskey

  “Yeah, I was just calling—”

  Pepper laughed at something Mason said, the sound bright and open.

  “Who is that?” Mom asked, her interest piqued.

  Shit. “No one to worry about, Mom.” She’d be a dog with a bone if she got the slightest hint that I was interested in someone here.

  “It’s a girl!” She covered the receiver with her hand, or something, given how muffled she sounded. “Ed! Get in here! Eric has a girl!”

  “I do not have a girl,” I rebutted low and soft.

  Pepper turned at that moment, an eyebrow quirking. Great, she’d heard me.

  “At practice, too, if my calendar is correct! She must be someone really special!”

  Fuck, if I didn’t stop her now, she’d have Pepper and I married off with two kids by dinner. Not that I’d mind practicing for kids with Pepper because damn did that woman have—

  “You have to bring her home for Thanksgiving!”

  “Mom!” I snapped, gaining the attention of Pepper, Mason, and every other player walking by us on the way to the locker room. “You have the completely wrong idea.” I dropped my voice and turned away, to deflect attention. “How is Dad feeling?” Maybe the subject change would shake her.

  “Oh, he’s out in the machine shed, trying to fix that Combine. You know him.”

  My stomach twisted.

  “Yeah, I do, and the docs just cleared him last week. What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

  “Eric Gentry, don’t you dare use that tone with me.”

  And boom, I was ten again.

  “Sorry, mom. Just let me send a check. Get the combine fixed or buy him a new one, I don’t care. But he’s had four spinal surgeries in the past two years. He doesn’t need to be out there like that.”

  “Oh honey, I know you want to take care of us, but I just can’t. If your daddy knew that it was your money that had kept us afloat for the last couple of years, he’d be so embarrassed.”

  “He never has to know, Mom. As far as he knows, I’m the Blue Line Financial Mortgage Co.”

  She sighed in relief as the last of the team filed past me.

  “Good, and I promise we’ll pay it back.”

  “I don’t care if you pay it back. I honestly wish you wouldn’t—”

  “...so I pop the hood,” I hear Pepper say as she and Mason get closer, “And a family of squirrels has moved into my engine and chewed up every hose!”

  My eyebrows hit the ceiling when I looked at her.

  “It’s true,” she whispered.

  “No problem, I’ll take you home,” Mason said, putting his arm around her shoulder.

  Uh. The fuck he would.

  “Of course we’re going to,” Mom said in my ear.

  “I’ll take you home,” I said to Pepper.

  She stopped, clutching her tablet to her chest and looking up at me like I had four heads. “You will?”

  “Sure. It’s on the way to my place.” Where we would not be going. Her place was safe. Ivy was there, so my hands would mind themselves. At my house? All bets were off the second she said yes.

  “Oh, I really don’t mind,” Mason argued. “We could hang out? Get some dinner?”

  Pepper’s gaze swung from Mason back to me.

  “I thought you had to talk to Coach Harris?” I prompted Mason. “No biggie, of course, Pepper. We can absolutely watch another one of those comic movies another time. I’ll just—”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh! That would be awesome!” She patted Mason on the shoulder. “Mase, you know the way to Dad’s office, right? Eric, I’ll just run to my office and input these numbers while you shower. You are going to shower, right? Because…” she motioned to my body again, but it wasn’t so flattering this time. “I mean, we’re going to be in the same car and everything—”

  “Relax, Pepper. I’m going to shower. Right now. I’ll come to your office after. Mason, it was nice to meet you.” Asshole.

  Pepper nodded, and I heard a sigh in my ear.

  Oh, fuck my life.

  “Mom. You’re still there.”

  “Yep.” I could practically hear the smile in her voice.

  “And you heard everything.”

  “Yep!”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I’d better see that girl at my Thanksgiving table. Love you! Bye!” She hung up, never having told me the original reason she called.

  Shaking my head, I made my way into the locker room. My thoughts jumbled into a tangle as I got my gear off and showered.

  They were still spinning after I got out of the shower and dressed in the now-empty locker room.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never gotten possessive of a girl. Ever. Sure, maybe Faith, but she was my sister and that was a whole different set of instincts. Maybe it was that Coach had asked me to keep an eye out for her. Or maybe that Mason was a complete and total douchebag.

  Whatever it was, I needed to get a grip on it before I got a grip on her.

  “So, Mason Hall, huh?” Gage asked, sitting next to me on the bench as I tied my shoes.

  I was so distracted I hadn’t heard him come in.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  “I saw you out in the hallway with him and Pepper.” His eyes narrowed slightly, just enough to send a warning, but his tone was soft. “Between that and your lunge for Crosby earlier, I thought maybe you might be getting into something that you shouldn’t be.”

  “Coach asked me to look out for her when it came to the guys, especially that Mason guy. That’s all. Said he was going to try to get close to her for the wrong reasons.”

  Gage nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You know the history there?”

  “Besides the fact that he’s Bobby Hall’s son, and they dated in high school?” I stood and slid my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans.

  “Yeah, those are important parts. Everyone figured that she’d go with him, but he broke up with her, went to the Ducks, too early, too green, made an ass out of himself thinking his daddy’s name would let him skate by, and then got sent to the minors. Coach maneuvered a couple trades so Hall could move to our farm team.”

  “In Tacoma.” Thirty minutes away.

  “That’s the one. Now, everyone looking from the outside has always pretty much assumed she’d come home and they’d get back together—”

  Now he had my attention. “Who is everyone?”

  “Friends. Some family. Tabloids. Hall was still playing for the Ducks back then, so they were always a story.”

  “You telling me to get out of the way? Like they’re fated or some bullshit?” I leaned against my locker, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

  “Hell no.” He stood. “I’m telling you to get in the way. That kid is going to try and do exactly what he did to her last time.”

  “Which is?”

  “Use her name to get himself on an NHL roster and leave her in the dust. Or worse, get signed to the Sharks, and then play the dedicated boyfriend while he fucks everything that moves behind her back.”

  Just thinking that he’d cheat on her like that had red flashing in front of my eyes.

  “Did he?”

  Gage nodded once and then turned for the door. “You heard what Coach said. Keep your hands to yourself. But do Pepper a favor and keep him the fuck away from her. She always sees the good in people, too sweet to see what he was up to then, and what he’s definitely up to now.”

  “You really think she doesn’t see through it?”

  He cocked his head to the side in thought. “First loves die hard.”

  Then, like that had answered anything, he left.

  I grabbed my keys and headed for Pepper’s office, where I found her leaned close to a dual monitor computer system, entering data from her tablet while videos were paused on the extra screen.

  She had a pencil between her teeth, her look of concentration so intense that I probably could have shot a puck through
the wall and she wouldn’t have noticed. She was as focused on her work—as dedicated as I was, and damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

  I watched her quietly, leaned against her door frame until she put the pencil down and stretched.

  I tried to ignore the way the move pushed her breasts against her V neck shirt, highlighting the curves better than a spotlight.

  I failed.

  “Eric!” She bounced to her feet. “You ready for some more Marvel magic, Iron Man?”

  “Still with Iron Man, huh?” I arched a brow at her. “I’m not being a hero anymore.”

  “It’s the red hair,” she said with an impish hip check. “And maybe the pads, too.”

  Yeah, Iron Man. I was okay with that. Because from what I saw in that movie we’d watched the other night, he was going to be the one who ended up with his smokin’ hot co-worker, who was aptly named Pepper.

  I held the door open for her, and she brushed against me as she slid through the small space.

  Electricity hummed through my veins, all concentrating in the one area I knew I couldn’t use when it came to this woman.

  Fuck Mason and all that first love bullshit.

  This wasn’t high school, and I wasn’t a kid.

  I could keep my hands to myself, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting his on her.

  Chapter 4

  Pepper

  “Wait,” I said as we entered my apartment. I’d texted Ivy on the way over about the movie night, and she was already in the kitchen on the hunt for junk-food.

  I set my bag down on the kitchen island, spinning to face Eric. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “My father basically ordered you to hang out with me?”

  Eric had spilled his confession in the truck on the way over like he couldn’t stand having a secret between us despite us barely knowing each other. After I got over the shock, I’m sure I would find that endearing as hell.

  “Not exactly,” he said, motioning toward the couch with a questioning glance.

  I chuckled. “Of course,” I said. “I’m not going to throw you out.”

  He actually looked relieved as he sat down.

  “Coach just wants to keep certain players from you.”

  “You said all players in the truck.”

  He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. He wants you protected. Focused. You are employed by the Sharks after all, it’s not that…crazy.”

  I snorted. “Sure, not being an overprotective dad at all. Or an insane boss. Brilliant.”

  “Ugh,” Ivy grunted from our kitchen. “That is so Dad.” She opened and shut the cabinets a little harder than necessary, plopping down bags of chips, gummy bears, popcorn, and chocolate covered pretzels as she went.

  “True,” I said, sinking onto the couch—the same one Eric’s cut body took up more than half of as he sat patiently next to me. Captain America was already queued up on the TV. “He should know better. Well, in my case, at least.” I shot Ivy a teasing look, and she flipped me off.

  “Yeah, we all know your rule on hockey players,” Ivy said, grabbing three cans of soda from the fridge and setting it next to the goods on the counter. Eric shifted slightly on the couch next to me but didn’t dare interrupt Ivy. “But, this is ridiculous,” she continued, pointing at him. “Dad’s made him your official cockblocker.” She laughed, reaching for her haul. “Get it? Cause you’re a blocker?” She giggled, and I bit down my lip to stop a laugh.

  Eric’s strong jaw was smooth, free of any tension, and his smile was genuine as he hopped up and stopped Ivy from picking up the junk-food-loot. “Let’s leave it at blocker,” he said, gathering up everything Ivy had set out and carried it to the small coffee table in front of the couch. “And maybe, when you feel like it, friend.”

  He’d spoken to Ivy, but his green eyes were on me. The intensity in the look was somewhere between flirty-funny and sincere. It sent a chill straight through my center, which was only amplified when he reclaimed the seat next to me, the warmth from his body heating up my right side.

  God, he smelled better than the sweet-haven of junk food before us. Something like crisp clean soap and fresh cut cedar. My mouth watered so I quickly shoved a handful of popcorn in it.

  “We’ll see if you earn the friend title after we finish the movie marathon,” I teased after swallowing.

  “How many are there again?” He asked, stretching out his long, muscled legs, settling in for the long haul. The slight action alone made my stomach flip.

  Friends. Coworkers. Nothing else.

  Funny, I’d never had to repeat this mantra so much before.

  “Twenty,” Ivy said, sinking onto the couch on my other side.

  Eric whistled, shaking his head. “That’s a long time to decide if we’re friends or not,” he teased.

  I couldn’t stop the stupid grin on my face. “Maybe I’ll decide before it’s over,” I said, reaching for the remote. “If you react the right way.”

  “What’s the right way?” he looked genuinely concerned which made my belly all kinds of warm.

  I smirked and pressed play.

  “Ivy?” He asked, glancing around me to look at her. “What’s the right way?”

  Ivy chuckled and grabbed the bag of chips closest to her. “Let’s just say the only reason I watch these is to look at the hot guys. I’m not into all the comic crap like Pepper.”

  I hissed at her.

  “See? That’s the wrong way,” Ivy said, crunching down on a chip.

  “Noted,” Eric said, “Thank—”

  “Shh,” I cut him off. “It’s starting.”

  Lucky for me, I’d seen Captain America over a dozen times because watching it with Eric? So damn distracting. I couldn’t stop myself from stealing peeks, checking to see if he was genuinely enjoying it or if he thought it was lame, like Ivy.

  I think it would’ve been easier for me if he did.

  Because, damn him, he laughed at the correct parts. He tensed during the action scenes and he did the whole guy-fist-bump-the-air-thing when Cap kicked some serious ass.

  Watching him watch it for the first time was almost better than the movie itself.

  “Wait, what?” Eric’s brow pinched together. “He dies? What the hell? He can’t die.”

  He looked genuinely upset.

  Oh, I’m so screwed. This guy is perfect.

  “Just wait,” I patted his leg, the gesture meant to be an innocent comfort, but the way he stilled under my touch and planted me with those green eyes…it was anything but.

  “For what?” He asked, his voice lower, more hushed.

  “After credits BS.” Ivy bolted off the couch, groaning as she stretched her arms over her head. “They do it every time. Stringing you along.”

  “Ivy,” I practically growled. “I’ve never forced you to watch these.”

  She gave me a knowing look.

  I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Once. I made you watch them, once. And it was clear you weren’t into them so I’ve never asked again.”

  “And?”

  “And, don’t harp on my happiness just because you’re not artistically inclined to understand the complexity of writing that occurs between these films.”

  Ivy rolled her eyes and laughed. “Whatever. Not everyone can be as big a nerd as you.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, standing to gather the wrappers and empty bags from the table. Eric’s hands were there, helping with the destroyed haul.

  “It is what it is,” she said, prancing to her room. “I have to get ready now. Thanks for the Chris Evans pick-me-up!”

  “You’re welcome!” I snapped as she shut her bedroom door behind her. I laughed, tossing the garbage in the bin, Eric following seconds after me.

  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” he said as we finished cleaning up—an act way too comfortable for this only being his second time in my apartment. Maybe we were on the road to being friends. So far, being around him was easy and fun. If I co
uld just lock down those uncontrollable swooning moments…

  “What?” I finally asked, snapping out of it. I had to crane my head to meet his eyes. He was so damn tall.

  “Being a nerd,” he said and shrugged. “I think it’s a compliment.”

  I grinned. “Do you now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Goalie star, celebrity athlete. What would you know about being a nerd?”

  He chuckled and raised his hands. “I didn’t realize you were president of the nerd club. What does it take to get in?” He took a step closer to me, his hip leaning against the counter.

  “Um…” I fumbled for words. “For starters, knowing and loving the MCU is a must.”

  He smirked. “Thanks to you I’m already on my way there. Anything else?”

  “Loads,” I said. “You’re definitely not a nerd until someone makes fun of you for doing something you’re amazing at. And I seriously doubt anyone has ever given you crap for blocking a shot.”

  He pressed his lips together, nodding. “Give me your keys.”

  “What?”

  He held out his hand, palm up. I hated that I wanted to slip mine into his, just to see what his skin felt like.

  “Your car is parked in the garage, right?”

  “Broken, remember? Ferocious squirrels? I haven’t had time to get it into the shop since we moved back.”

  “Exactly. Keys please.”

  I arched a brow at him but spun around and grabbed my keys from my bag that rested on the counter. “Now what?” I asked, dropping them into his hand.

  “Follow me.”

  And I did.

  He jogged to his truck first, parked in the visitor spaces just outside our garage unit, and brought back a small toolbox.

  “You always carry tools in your truck?” I asked, opening the garage when he prompted me to.

  “Yes?” He said it like a question. “I grew up on a farm, Pepper,” he said, setting the tools in front of my dormant car in the garage.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. And it taught me—well, it taught me a lot of things—but one is to always be prepared.”

  I bit back my smile as he popped the hood of my car, the garage light flooding over the destroyed interior. “There is that hero thing again.”