by Amber Lynn
Amber Lynn
Copyright © 2015 Amber Lynn
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication
I’ve come across many people who have been helpful when it comes to getting my stories published. If possible, I try to acknowledge everyone I know by name. Because of that, I have to dedicate this book to Diane, who has become a voice of reason when I start to ramble or get too far away from the plot.
My only regret when it comes to the help Diane has given me is that I didn’t find her sooner. She has taught me many things when it comes to writing and trying to get a book published, most important to me is patience. She assisted in making this book better and along the way has helped me advance my skills as a writer.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Chapter One
“Do you need glasses, Jones? I know the puck isn’t that big, but I can see it from fifty yards away just fine.”
Temptation to look for the owner of the voice almost got the better of Dylan Jones. A sweaty guy breathing down his neck as he moved up the ice kept him focused on the game, instead of searching for her. The woman had already caused him a few extra bruises over the season as he tried to find her.
At least her last comment revealed a distance from the ice. It gave him a little more to go on, other than just the general direction her voice came from, and Dylan hoped his quest was close to an end.
From the first game of the season, he’d heard her up there, yelling about any mistake he made. If anyone on the ice had said the things coming out of her mouth, they would’ve been considered for unsportsmanlike conduct penalties. Even when he played well, her praise was formatted in a way that made it seem like Dylan had stood by and let the other team score.
When you were the most eligible bachelor on a hockey team, the women in the crowd tended to throw themselves at you. Finding someone who didn’t was as difficult as finding the Fountain of Youth, and Dylan was determined to find his treasure.
“You still haven’t won her over.” As Dylan got off the ice for his shift, his best friend, and favorite defenseman, teased him.
“I take it you weren’t able to pinpoint her for me like you’re supposed to, Nels. You’d think she’d eventually run out of insults.”
Dylan sat down on the bench next to Nelson. The game had less than thirty seconds left, and the chances of him being needed back on the ice were slim. Their team was up by two, so running out the clock was all the players on the ice had to do.
“I’m sure you already know this, but trying to find a single person in a full arena is a little difficult.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Dylan shook his head as the horn sounded for the end of the game.
He jumped over the boards to celebrate the win with the team, his eyes scanning the general section he thought he’d pinpointed the voice. Fifty yards should’ve been about halfway up the first level of seats. Everyone was busy cheering, and he didn’t make out the voice in any of the screams – not that he had enough information to know how the woman screamed.
Dylan imagined her screams would be throaty, like her voice. He’d had a few dreams about ways he could test his theories, but it was difficult to enjoy the dreams when he didn’t have a visual body to imagine.
He went back and forth with the woman of his dreams’ features. Most of the time he settled with her being a brunette with long hair and blue eyes. Dylan was convinced he’d instantly fall in love with her no matter what she looked like, so he tried not to come up with a full picture, just in case he was way off base, and for some reason was disappointed when he met the real person.
“So are you going out with us tonight, or are you going to run off to try to find her?”
Dylan was busy completing his scan of the stands while he saluted the crowd with the rest of the team at center ice. Nelson had to clear his throat and ask the question again to get his friend’s attention.
“There’s no way I’m going to find her in a sea of eighteen thousand people.” Dylan wished his words weren’t fact, but there was little he could do to change things.
“That hasn’t stopped you from trying. Steph was hoping to see you tonight. She’s been on me again to talk you into a date. Evidently, she believes that being your best friend’s sister elevates her right to the top of the dating pool.”
Dylan looked over to Nelson to try to get a handle on whether the other man was joking. It was difficult to tell when Nelson’s brown eyes held laughter. Choosing not to respond, Dylan skated back over to the bench. He was covered in sweat, and a shower was the only thing on his mind. Well, the only thing he thought he could do something about.
When he got to the tunnel, he was given the signal that he needed to wait. For playing terrible, according to his mysterious number one fan, he was getting first star of the night. It was the fifth time during the month that he’d been given the honor.
After they called his name, he skated back out on the ice and headed towards the section he was fairly certain his biggest fan called home. Most of the fans had cleared out, but a few hundred were still there, hoping to get the puck he planned on throwing into the crowd. If he could find her, the puck would find its way to her, but since he was sure she took off right after the game, he tossed it to a little boy.
Seeing the joy in the bright blue eyes as the kid jumped up and down and showed off his prize almost made the need to go ice down Dylan’s knee worth it. As he got older, the ice had become a regular routine. At twenty-seven he wasn’t an old man, but the level of hockey he played at wasn’t an occupation with an abundance of thirty-year-olds actively involved in the daily grind. Sure, there were a few dozen who still played into their mid-thirties, but younger, faster players kept coming in and pushing the older players out.
“Great game, Dylan.”
A woman was practically hanging over the tunnel to the locker room, and she wanted to make sure Dylan noticed. Her three simple words were slurred, leaving no doubt that she’d had a little too much to drink.
“Thanks. The team as a whole played great tonight.”
Dylan wasn’t a hot dog for attention. Whenever someone praised him, he always tried to make it about the team. A fact his biggest critic probably wouldn’t believe.
“I couldn’t pay attention to anyone else out there when you were on the ice. You’re so hot.”
Laughing at her comment would’ve been rude, so Dylan kept his thoughts about it being impossible to really see him underneath his helmet and pads to himself. He hadn’t taken a close look at the woman, other than noticing her mousy brown hair, because he knew how thing
s would play out. She was looking for a story she could brag to all her friends about.
When he was younger, Dylan had gotten wrapped up in the attention and had spent most of his first year reveling in the fact that a different woman every night in his bed was something he could easily accomplish. The novelty had worn off, even though the ladies hadn’t gotten the memo. The only reason he’d stopped to respond was that he wasn’t impolite, and fans helped pay his salary.
“Are you going over to Blue Diamond after the game? I hear that’s where the team likes to hang out.”
“Sorry, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow, so I’m probably going to just head home.”
Dylan’s attention had remained watching the crowd as they exited, so the woman didn’t have good observation skills, or maybe she did and just didn’t care that he wasn’t into the conversation. He was surprised she was alone, because women usually showed up with a wingman when they approached.
“Well, if you need someone to massage out the aches and pains from the game, my schedule is free for the night.”
“Jonesy, get back here. We need some of your motivational words before we call it a night.”
Dylan turned to see Nelson standing at the end of the tunnel, out of the view of the woman. He owed him a case of beer for making the awkward exit a little easier.
“Duty calls. Thanks for the offer and for your support of the Tigers. Next home game is in two days.”
He added a smile before jogging towards Nelson. Most of the guys were probably already in the showers, so Dylan wasn’t worried about having to say anything. As the captain of the team, he often tried to rally the troops after losses, but when they won, all anyone wanted to do was race to the bars. Dylan didn’t miss the days when he joined the group.
“Thanks for the exit strategy. I need to hurry up and meet my dream girl, so I can tell them I’m already in a relationship.”
“There’s nothing saying you can’t do that already. As far as I can see, you wouldn’t be lying. So what if the female part of the relationship doesn’t know you’re involved?”
Dylan took off his helmet and tossed it over to his designated area in the locker room. Nelson had already put his helmet in the space next to Dylan’s, and his wet blond hair looked almost the same color as Dylan’s light brown locks. Nelson had shoulder-length hair that curled into tight ringlets, a feature Dylan was always surprised didn’t send the girls flocking to his friend. Nelson got his fair share of attention, but it didn’t seem to contend with the constant flow Dylan had to deal with.
“I don’t know her name or what she looks like, so it’s probably not a good idea for me to start spreading around that I’m seeing someone. With my luck, she’d read it in a tabloid the day before I finally found her.”
“Judging by how much hate she sends your way, I’d say she writes those tabloid stories about you.” Nelson sat down and started taking off his pads. “So, I wasn’t joking about my sister trying to get me to hook you two up. She literally texts me daily asking when you guys are going on a date. Since she’s living at my place, I’m thinking about moving without telling her, just so I don’t have to hear it anymore. ”
Dylan was in the process of taking his jersey off when he heard the words. The groan that rumbled from him was all Nelson really needed for a response. There was something off about Nelson’s sister, but it wasn’t Dylan’s place to suggest she get professional help.
“Not to say anything bad about Steph, but was she dropped on her head a lot as a child? Who in their right mind would want to date someone who was friends with you?”
Nelson tossed a glove in Dylan’s general direction. Dylan caught it and threw it back, before working to get his skates off.
“I wouldn’t doubt it, since she’s interested in you. If you aren’t going to do more to find a real girlfriend, I’m going to give Steph your phone number, so you can deal with her.”
“You can give her my number.”
Dylan looked over to where the starting goaltender was putting his gear away. The kid was still young, and was lucky Nelson wasn’t as protective of his sister as some guys were.
“She’d chew you up and spit you out, Doug. Steph’s looking for a husband, and she’s had her eyes on Jonesy for years now.”
“You don’t think I can handle your little sister, Nels? One of these times she’ll get tired of watching the door for Jonesy and I’ll be there waiting to show her a good time.”
“Good luck with that. Don’t come crying to me when she leaves you curled up in a ball weeping.”
Nelson had managed to get out of his gear and clothes, and headed off to the showers. He made it out of the room just as the door to the outside world opened up and the owner of the team strutted in. The man running things hadn’t been to the locker room since the beginning of the season, so Dylan was surprised to see him.
When Gary Holcomb started in Dylan’s direction, a little trepidation took hold. It was late in the season, after trade deadline, so the threat of being traded was minimal, but there weren’t a lot of other reasons for the owner to be looking for him.
“Dylan Jones, that was some game you just played. I heard your name on everyone’s lips as I made my way down here.”
Holcomb was an imposing force, even for someone as big as Dylan. The man had been in the Army for most of his life, more than likely as a drill sergeant. He stood over six-foot tall and hadn’t let civilian life interrupt his daily regime.
Something about his shiny dome, which had multiple scars from his time in the service, scared Dylan. Most people would grow hair to cover the half dozen various pale lines, but Holcomb shaved his head, probably daily. It was difficult not to stare at a particular scar that traced along the top of his forehead.
“Thanks, Mr. Holcomb. I couldn’t do the things I do without the rest of the team, so if you’re looking to offer atta-boys, make sure you have plenty to go around.”
Holcomb’s brown eyes studied the man in front of him for a second before he burst out laughing. The odd reaction startled Dylan.
“Let’s drop the mister, just call me Holcomb. I heard you aren’t one to take credit when credit is due. I just didn’t expect you to play things off with me. Most guys want to make sure I understand what an asset they are to the team.”
Holcomb took a seat in Nelson’s space and turned to face Dylan. There were five other guys in the room, but he hadn’t bothered even acknowledging them, which rankled Dylan a bit.
“So listen, Dylan, I’ve got a few things we need to talk about, and I was hoping I could get you to swing by my office tomorrow. Usually, I’d just have my people call your people, but I wanted to formally extend the invitation.”
Telling the boss that you weren’t available wasn’t an option in Dylan’s case. Even if he couldn’t be traded, there were ways an owner could make a player’s life hell.
“Did you have a particular time in mind?”
It was a little awkward discussing a business meeting when one person was wearing a suit and the other was in nothing more than a pair of shorts. If Holcomb had wandered in two minutes later, the conversation would’ve taken place in the shower, and Dylan was sure the location wouldn’t have deterred Holcomb.
“I don’t have a lot of openings tomorrow, so I’m hoping two-thirty works for you. I don’t think it will take more than ten minutes.”
If ten minutes was all it would take, Dylan didn’t know why they couldn’t just discuss it right then. There were rooms in the catacombs of the arena where they wouldn’t be bothered.
“As far as I know, there’s nothing in my schedule that would stop me from coming. I haven’t been up to your office before, is there anyway your people can send my people a map?”
Dylan had only met with Holcomb a few times, and those meetings were over lunch or dinner with the team or Dylan’s agent around to do the talking. His current contract was good for another three years, and at his age, he doubted conversation would turn to a co
ntract extension, so what Holcomb wanted to talk about was a complete mystery.
As far as asking for a map, Dylan knew where Holcomb’s office was, he just wanted to remind the man that he’d never been there before. Chances were none of the players on the team had been given a tour.
“I’ll make sure to put out a trail of breadcrumbs for you. Well, since we have that all set, I’ll be on my way. Keep up the good work, guys. There’s only a handful of games left, and I want to finish the season at the top of the standings.”
Holcomb didn’t bother looking at the other guys as he made his way out of the locker room. Two of the guys were in nothing but towels, so Dylan let it slide. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do to make the boss acknowledge the team.
“What in the world do you think he wants?” Doug’s big mouth was moving before Holcomb had even let the door close behind him.
Dylan’s eyes remained on the door, waiting to make sure Holcomb had moved on with his evening. Chances were they couldn’t say anything that would irritate the man, but Dylan wanted to protect his teammates just in case.
“I know about as much as anyone else. If it’s anything interesting, I’ll fill you guys in. Right now, I’m assuming he just wants my opinion about paint colors.”
“He must have heard you weren’t color blind,” Nelson hollered from the showers.
The fact that all the water had stopped running when Holcomb showed up was a good indicator that everyone had decided to listen in. With how loud Holcomb’s voice boomed, it wasn’t surprising it could be heard through the walls.
“Do you guys have the room mic’d? There’s no way you should’ve been able to hear me.”
“I’m pleading the fifth on that one. Why don’t you hurry up and get in the shower, so I don’t have to yell?”
Dylan looked at the rest of the guys in the room, wondering if they knew anything about Nelson’s bionic hearing. Some head shakes and finger pointing towards the shower was all he got back. He knew the acoustics of the locker room were more than likely the culprit.