Kaufman: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 2)

by Nicole Edwards

  It’s what I do.

  6

  Spencer

  Monday night

  LISTENING TO MATTIAS VALERI AND Patrick Benne argue over who’s had the most chicks in the past two weeks is strangely fascinating, although a bit nauseating. The latter because I was probably doing the exact same thing fifteen years ago when I was making a name for myself in the NHL. I’m an old pro now. My name’s established and I’m lucky that I’m still going strong. Other than an elbow injury several years ago, I’ve been blessed. The only thing left for me to do is ride this wave until it crashes.

  Now, when it comes to the ladies … my game’s still going strong. I no longer need to compare notes with my teammates. The amusing part is that there are a handful of puck bunnies who absolutely do not give a shit that these two assholes are talking about the sheer volume of condoms they’ve gone through. It’s crazy, really. And it should be an eye opener for me. The girl sitting beside me is listening to them while watching me as though I hung the moon.

  She’d be sorely disappointed if she knew the truth.

  On a normal night, I would’ve pulled the girl into my lap and crooned bullshit to her until she was practically begging me to take her home. I wouldn’t even have to buy her a drink. Provided this one is even old enough to drink.

  “Hey.”

  I look up to see Noelle standing by the table. Her inquisitive blue eyes dance back and forth between me and the puck bunny. I watch her, doing my best to keep my eyes on her face and not letting them drift down to the indecent amount of exposed skin on her chest. The body-hugging black T-shirt she’s wearing has been modified in a way that suits her. The neck has been cut out of it—or maybe it’s made that way, I don’t know—and it does miraculous things for the woman’s body. Okay, maybe it isn’t an indecent amount of skin, but, Jiminy fucking Christmas, it’s enough to catch the attention of every straight guy in the room.

  Including me, although I do my best to pretend otherwise.

  “What’s up?”

  Noelle’s gaze hops over to the girl at my side again, then pins me in place.

  I shake my head, letting her know I’m not interested in what this girl is selling.

  And, holy mother…

  As though I invited her with my eyes, Noelle plops her sweet little ass right onto my lap, smiling at me as though she missed me. She smells faintly of oranges, chicken wings, and beer. The scent is not unpleasant.

  I reactively move to ensure she doesn’t slide to the floor. In doing so, I somehow plant one hand on her thigh while my dick grazes her ass. The less intelligent part of my body springs to life instantly, and in about two-point-five seconds, Noelle’s going to know exactly how I feel about her.

  What the fuck just happened?

  I mean, seriously. I’ve known this woman since she was a nerdy teenager, with her frizzy hair, braces, and glasses. Granted, she grew out of that stage a long-ass time ago. She shed the nerd phase and moved straight to smoking-hot fairyland overnight, it seemed. But she is my sister’s best friend, so I have managed to ignore her. Mostly.

  Noelle’s arms go around my neck and she leans in close to my ear. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  Oh, God yes. As long as it involves her naked beneath me and my tongue gliding over every delectable inch of her, absolutely.

  I think it’s true, the woman is a fairy and she managed to get some of that magic dust she snorts on me. I’ve quite possibly gone as crazy as her just from touching her.

  I pull back enough to look at her, swallowing hard. My dick is attempting to play grab ass. Literally. If Noelle notices, she’s pretending not to. Thank God.

  If she hasn’t, then she’s going to figure that out soon enough if she doesn’t get her little butt off my lap, because I’m going to start dry humping her from underneath. I try to shift her, but she doesn’t move.

  “What? Favor?” Shit, I can barely speak.

  “Do you have an old hockey stick you don’t want?”

  I frown. “Huh?”

  Noelle smiles, and I swear to God, the world tilts for a moment.

  I can’t deny that Noelle Dexter is hands down one of the cutest, sexiest, most incredible women I know. She’s funny, she’s smart, and she’s even a little crazy. Not sit-in-her-car-and-stare-up-at-my-bedroom-window-in-the-middle-of-the-night crazy. The cute kind of crazy. Sure, if she wasn’t Ellie’s best friend, I probably would’ve tapped her by now. Or at least I would’ve tried. I’ve seen plenty of men attempt to make their way into Noelle’s pants and get shot down one after the other. She’s not an easy woman to get, for sure.

  “It doesn’t have to be in good condition,” Noelle says, still smiling.

  I reach around her, trying to find my beer. My tongue is so fucking dry I can hardly swallow.

  It takes a second for me to remember what she asked me for. Hockey stick. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s a euphemism, either.

  “I … uh … yeah. I’ve got several.”

  Her smile widens even more, her electric-blue eyes glittering, and I think for a second that I might fall out of my chair.

  When she leans in and presses her lips to mine in a quick, sloppy kiss, I have to grab hold of the table.

  “Thanks. You’re the best.”

  With that, Noelle hops off my lap, tousles my hair, then saunters off toward the bar. I can’t look away from her; my entire body is on red alert, watching as she moves through the room. Plenty of guys are watching her, and for the first time in my life, I want to smack them upside the head.

  Shit.

  I turn back to the table and grab my beer. A cursory glance tells me no one noticed what the hell just happened. I start to wonder if it was my imagination, especially when I see the puck bunny still sitting at my side. She smiles at me, but I can’t even force myself to smile back.

  Holy fuck.

  I seriously don’t know what just happened, but I think it’s time to call it a night.

  Noelle

  BY THE TIME I GET home, I know I should drop into bed and grab a few extra hours of sleep, but I’m so worked up I can hardly blink, much less close my eyes.

  I can’t, for the life of me, stop thinking about Spencer. I don’t know what came over me tonight, but I think I might’ve actually flirted with him for the first time in my life. I’d like to think I had a good excuse for it, but I’m not known for making excuses—good or otherwise.

  Part of me wants to blame the conversation between Ellie and Spencer earlier.

  Ellie: “What’s in it for me?”

  Spencer: “What do you want?”

  Ellie: “Depends. What does this entail? I know you said going to games and blah, blah, blah, but I already do that.”

  Spencer: “We’ll have to talk to Amber.”

  Ellie: “Amber who?”

  Kingston: “The PR chick, Amber North.”

  Ellie: “Amber North? Is that the same Amber North you dated in high school?”

  Kingston: “Yep, looks as though his past popped right back up, ready to fuck his life up for the second time.”

  Ellie: “What’s she doing back here?”

  Kingston: “Yeah. Did you sit down with her yet? Chat it up over coffee?”

  Spencer: “It’s not important.”

  Kingston: “I have to disagree.”

  Spencer: “I don’t want to talk about it. What’s important is that my sister say yes to helping you.”

  Yep, even on replay in my head, I’ve got the same reaction. What in the hell is Amber North doing back here?

  See, I know Amber. She was one grade ahead of me and Ellie, and she was Spencer’s long-time girlfriend in high school. She is also the chick who broke up with him as soon as he went off to college.

  She wasn’t a friend of mine, but I talked to her from time to time. Usually on
ly when she came over to Ellie’s to visit Spencer. She was a nice girl. Very pretty.

  Right up until she broke up with him by leaving him a voice mail and then disappearing altogether. Well, she didn’t really go anywhere, but from the time she dumped him, Amber never spoke to me or Ellie again. Not that I blame her. I did try to glare her to death, but I don’t have superpowers—yet (I’m working on that)—so it never worked. She wasn’t reduced to ash because of my wicked awesome ability to will her into dust.

  Heading to my bedroom, I start stripping off my clothes, piece by piece. I toss them into the laundry hamper and head for the shower. Like most days, the eau de chicken wings is more than I can stand.

  While the water heats in the shower, I brush my teeth and stare at myself in the mirror. I’m instantly reminded of the way I blatantly flirted with Spencer earlier tonight. In my defense, I didn’t do it on purpose. My reasons were innocent. Or they had been when I came up with the idea. Then, when I brazenly perched on Spencer’s lap and I felt his discernible reaction to me, all innocence disappeared entirely.

  And okay, fine. Maybe it was a natural response to a woman sitting on his lap, I don’t honestly know. But I did feel his obvious hard-on, and the way Spencer stammered when I asked him if he had an extra hockey stick… I think something snapped inside me.

  I want that man with a ferocity that can’t be sane. For crissakes, there was a puck bunny sitting beside him. I won’t deny that it had pleased me when she narrowed her overdone eyes and tried to incinerate me right there in the restaurant. Good news … she doesn’t have superpowers, either.

  Dropping my toothbrush back in the holder, I can’t help but notice the other toothbrush there. It’s never been used, but I keep it there just in case. You know, the whole positive thinking thing. Maybe I don’t have the man of my dreams (yet), but there’s something to be said about always smiling. It works for me.

  I snort as I pull back the curtain and step into the shower.

  While I soap up, I close my eyes and think about Spencer. What it would feel like if his hands were on me. Probably a whole lot different than my own hands.

  “Crazy, crazy, crazy,” I singsong, reaching for the shampoo.

  No way can I give in to this fantasy. It would be stupid.

  So what if Amber North is back. So what if Spencer doesn’t want to talk about her. What’s to talk about? She works for the Austin Arrows, which means she works with Spencer.

  That means nothing.

  Nothing, nothing, nothing.

  I rinse my hair and add conditioner, forcing my eyes to remain open. I am not going to pretend that Spencer is in the shower with me.

  God, I wish Spencer was in my shower.

  Naked. Water sluicing over every glorious inch of his…

  “Stupid, remember?”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  I’m not prone to bouts of insanity. Usually I’m pretty rational, albeit a little goofy. There’s no denying the fact that I enjoy life. I’m happy with the way things have worked out for me. So what if I haven’t had sex in a really, really, really… Oh, God.

  I don’t even know how long it’s been since I last had sex with a real, live boy.

  Chuckling, I rinse the conditioner from my hair and reach for the shaving cream and my razor. I don’t even know why I bother to shave. I could look like a woolly mammoth, and other than me, no one would even know.

  Noelle’s Journal

  Dear Universe,

  I think I might’ve given the wrong impression today. In fact, I somehow managed to convince myself that I’m crushing on my best friend’s brother. No way can that be real. Maybe I’m coming down with something. Either way, could you please pretend the majority of today never happened? That’d be great. Thanks.

  7

  Spencer

  Tuesday, October 11th

  “YOUR SISTER DOESN’T SEEM TOO upset that she’s being set up with Kingston.”

  I’m sitting at the conference room table going over a list of events that Amber has put together for the charities the team is supporting. I’m doing my best to ignore her, but every now and then she says something, and though I’m tempted to be rude and shrug her off, I can’t seem to do it.

  What I really want is to be out on the ice right now. The rest of the team is practicing, while I’m stuck in this room, trying to appease Phoenix by having the first of who fucking knows how many meetings I’m going to have with Amber.

  I’ve already had the displeasure of sitting in on a conversation between Ellie and Amber, the two women trying to come to an understanding on how this thing with Kingston is supposed to play out. Honestly, I don’t want to know. I’ve done my part and asked my sister for the favor. She’s obviously going to do it. I shouldn’t have to be involved when it comes to what she’s supposed to wear, how she’s supposed to act, how many practices and games she’s supposed to attend, or any of that other bullshit.

  Then again, it is fun to mess with Ellie. I made a dig at her wardrobe, and that nearly set her off, which had great entertainment value. No one in the world would ask me for fashion advice. But in the same instance, I never in my life thought I’d use the words “walk of shame” when it came to Ellie, either, but I did tell her that it would probably be a good thing if a nosy reporter could catch her doing just that. Although, I’d be happier knowing she was simply walking, not shaming.

  But whatever.

  “They’re friends,” I explain without bothering to look up at her. “She’s just doing him a favor.”

  “That’s some friend.”

  I hear a bit of censure in Amber’s tone, which bothers me. I lift my head and meet her gaze. “If I recall correctly, you were going to set him up with one of your friends, right?”

  Amber shrugs. “Do you know for a fact that he didn’t do what that woman claims he did?”

  That gets my attention and I sit up straight. “Yeah. I know for a fact that he didn’t.”

  “Were you with him that night?”

  “No. But I know Kingston.”

  “Then you don’t know that he didn’t do it.”

  I resist the urge to blast her, instead saying, “And you don’t know that he did, so why don’t we trust Kingston on this one.”

  I can tell she’s not too happy about sitting in this room with me, and I have to admit, I feel the same way. I’m still processing the fact that she’s back in my life, and I have yet to come up with a way to keep things civil and forget about our past. I have questions that I want answers to, but I keep reminding myself that this is work and what happened between us occurred a lifetime ago. It’s ancient history and has no bearing on my life anymore.

  “How old is your niece?”

  Clearly she’s changing the subject. I frown. The woman is throwing me for a curve with every question. “Twelve.”

  “So I take it Ellie’s divorced?”

  I lean back in my chair and regard Amber curiously. “Never married.”

  “Oh. Does her daughter see her father?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I could tell Amber that it’s because Ellie got knocked up during a birthday-celebration trip to Vegas and that she’s never seen the man since. I could tell her that my sister’s the strongest woman I know because she took sole responsibility for her actions and excitedly welcomed her daughter into the world. I could tell Amber that Bianca is the most important person in the world to Ellie.

  But I don’t say any of that. I go with, “Why’d you break up with me over voice mail?”

  That one seems to stump her a bit, and her mouth snaps shut, pops open again, then shut. She’s shaking her head when she says, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

  “Neither is my sister’s personal life.”

  Amber’s emerald gaze drops to the papers in front of m
e. “I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right. I’m just nervous.”

  Suddenly, I’m thinking of turquoise eyes.

  Curly blond hair, a sweet heart-shaped face, and those big, wide blue eyes staring back at me while I...

  I shake that thought right out of my head.

  Truth is, I’ve been thinking about Noelle since she sat her cute little ass on my lap last night. It’s a good thing I have a tremendous amount of self-control, because otherwise, I would’ve gone over to Noelle’s apartment last night and asked her if she’d like to play the starring role in my most recent fantasy. That would’ve been stupid.

  I have no right to be thinking about Noelle. Hell, I should be shame-faced over the fact that I jacked off to thoughts of her before I managed to fall asleep last night. I already have enough shit to think about; I damn sure don’t need some woman plaguing my every thought. As it is, I’m trying to get away from one already.

  I lean forward, planting my forearms on the table as I stare at the woman from my past. “I can always work with Mark instead.”

  Amber shakes her head. “No. No way. I’m not going to let him think I’m incompetent.”

  “No one’s saying that.”

  “Maybe not aloud, but that’s how it’ll look. I can do this. And I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be asking personal questions. Your personal life is none of my business.”

  I nod as I glance back down at the paper. “Okay, then. I think we need to figure out what part we’ll play in the upcoming charity dinner for mental health awareness. It’s the first event on the list, and I’d like to tackle these one at a time if that’s all right with you.”

  The mention of business seems to shake Amber out of her funk. She sits up straight and brushes her hair back from her face. “Agreed. Mia’s running point on this one, and Phoenix shared with me the information about the teammate you lost to suicide years ago.”