Besides, I’m about to have a son who’s going to look up to his Daddy and when he does, I want to see pride radiating back out of those eyes that I hope are going to look just like Sophie’s. It’s amazing what that thought does to me. The knowledge of knowing I have a beautiful little boy growing inside my wife’s stomach fills me with something I’ve never felt before, in fact, I have absolutely no fucking idea what it is.
Pride? Love? Excitement? I have no idea. Maybe it’s a mix of it all, but whatever the hell it is, it spurs me on to be the best possible version of myself.
When my son grows up, I want him to be proud of his Daddy, to brag to all his little friends that his Daddy is better than theirs and if that’s taking it too far, then I don’t give a shit.
It’s first thing in the morning and I crept out of bed earlier than normal today. Usually, I have no problem getting up and out in the morning except today, I did. Ever since Sophie got home from her Spa day with Dani, she has been off… well, maybe off is the wrong word. She has been distant.
To anyone who doesn’t know her, they would assume she is hiding something, whereas I know she only gets like this when she is deep in thought and is planning a strategy to get the next biggest story.
Don’t get me wrong. I love that she loves her job. It’s fun and exciting and she also gets to be a part of putting some slimy bastard behind bars, but she’s five months pregnant and she needs to slow down rather than start a new project.
This couldn’t be healthy for the baby, right?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me being too overprotective as she likes to remind me all the time. Maybe I should just let her do her thing.
Then again, if she was to get hurt, I would never forgive myself.
Why can’t she just be satisfied writing stories about clothes and makeup?
Damn it.
Someone pushing out onto the ice has my attention finally snapping away from the horrors of my own mind and I’m thankful that now I’ll actually be able to concentrate.
Coach Larsden skates up to me with a chin lift. “How’s it going, Tank?” he asks as he comes to a standstill beside me.
“Pretty good,” I say to the guy who’s been my Coach for the past four seasons. “It’s a bit early for you,” I comment.
“Yeah, wanted to get an early start,” he grunts. “The season’s starting soon and I have a shit load of work to get through.”
“Sounds exciting,” I scoff.
He rolls his eyes as he pulls a puck from his pocket and drops it at his skates. “How’s your training going? I’ve noticed you’ve been logging a lot of hours in the gym,” he says.
“Yep,” I say. “I’m feeling good. I’m ready for the season.”
“I know you are,” he says with pride. “That’s why you’re at the top of my list for being this season’s captain.”
I nod my head, trying not to let my ego soak that in, but it feels damn good to hear those words. No matter how much I’ve heard it over the past few months. “Thanks, Coach.”
He shrugs off my thanks, just as I knew he would. He isn’t one for accepting thanks. He’s a believer in getting what you deserve. If you’ve put the work in then why shouldn’t you be rewarded? But either way, I’m not going to accept this position without letting him know how thankful I am.
“How’s Sophie?” he asks as he pulls the goals into position.
“Great,” I smile as I head over and grab a few more pucks out of the bucket by the barrier door. “I think she’s starting to get uncomfortable, but she’s too stubborn to admit it.”
He lets out a scoff, knowing I’m right. “Just wait a few more months then she’ll be telling you all about it.”
I grin at his comment. Most guys can’t stand it when their women complain about shit, but me, I love it. It gives me a chance to fix it which makes her see me as some type of hero and that always comes with the benefits. “Can’t wait,” I smirk.
Coach Larsden shakes his head and leaves me be so I can concentrate on my training. I get to work and soon enough a few of the other boys have joined me. As the season hasn’t started, the boys don’t have to be logging as many hours, but I’m glad they’re here, pushing themselves to better the team.
This year is our year. I can feel it.
Miller cuts past me, being the smart ass he usually is and steals the puck right out from under my unexpecting feet. He smirks as he flies by, but the fucker isn’t going to live that down.
I take off like a bull after him. He looks behind him and I have to grin as his eyes widen in shock. He hadn’t expected me to come after him, but now that I’ve started… I’m not stopping.
He pushes forward and I cut across the ice, knowing his tells. After all, I’ve been skating with the guy for over eight years. Back in college, we were known as the ‘dream team’, hell, some people still call us that. Miller was the big playboy on campus, the king of the fucking ice, but right now, he’s a sleep deprived new father who just messed with the wrong guy.
He flies around the bottom of the net and I distantly notice a few of the guys move away, knowing if they get in the way, their asses are going to get laid out. I cut across the front of the net and end up right in front of him. Miller attempts some of his fancy ass footwork, but I come at him with brute force. I mean, they don’t call me Tank for nothing.
He gets closer and I see the look in his eye. He thinks he’s got this in the bag.
My eyes come down on the puck and a split moment before he passes, my stick cuts out in front of him and scoops it up. He continues past me, enjoying his win far too much to notice he no longer possess the puck. A mistake made by someone whose head clearly isn’t in the game yet.
I shoot around and fly up the other side of the rink with Miller heavy on my heels after realizing he’s got to step it up a bit. I shoot the puck forward and watch as it beautifully flies through the air before slamming into the back of the nets and dropping to the ice.
“Fuck, dude,” Miller pants, coming to a stop beside me. “You’ve picked up speed.”
“Nah, you lost it when you left your balls back there,” I laugh, pointing out the patch of ice where I took the puck from him and notice some of the younger guys applauding my efforts.
“Fuck off,” he grins. “Give me a few weeks then I want a re-match.”
“You’re on,” I smirk. “But you better be ready before the season starts.”
“You know I will be,” he states before taking off with another puck and running some drills with the guys.
I continue for another few hours before getting off the ice and heading into the locker room. I have a quick shower and get myself dressed before pulling out my phone to call Sophie, only I find an unread text message.
Crazy Jill – Tank, I love you. I can’t wait to be together.
Far out. This chick is relentless. Jillian, her name is. She’s been texting and calling for the past four years. It’s getting ridiculous. Sophie and I even make bets on how long she’ll wait between texts.
At the beginning, I would reply and tell her to stop, but that only spurred her on. I started blocking her number so she got new ones. I changed my numbers, but she kept working them out. So now, I just let it go. She messages and I ignore it. She calls and I decline it. Everything has been harmless so far, just a really enthusiastic fan, so I guess it comes with the territory.
Sophie will get a kick out of it though, she always wins these bets and as usual, today isn’t any different which means I’m on cooking nude duty, but I must admit, I really don’t mind it. All it means is that Sophie is going to walk by me a million times, groping me until I give it to her on the kitchen counter.
A smile comes to my face as I make my way out of the ice rink. I press on Sophie’s contact details and hold the phone up, listening as it rings out. I get her voicemail and leave a message. “Babe, Crazy Jill messaged, so it’s on tonight. You better be ready. Call me back when you can.”
I hang up b
efore trying her office number.
“Daily Star, this is Jen,” the receptionist greets.
“Jen. Hey, it’s Tank. Is Sophie around?”
“No, sorry,” she says with a slight cringe in her voice. “She hasn’t been in all morning.”
“Damn,” I grunt. “Do you know where she is?”
“Ahh… let me have a look,” she says as I hear the familiar sound of her fingernails tapping away on the keyboard. “It says she’s working on that story about that guy who wanted to clear his name.”
“No,” I tell her. “She wrapped that one up last week. The guy was guilty of that and more.”
“Shit, seriously?” she grunts. “I could have sworn he was innocent.” For fuck's sake. Is this chick serious? How could she not know that the story was done by now? Sophie sent it in days ago and it’s probably in the middle of being printed in their latest issue. “Look,” she continues. “This is Sophie we're talking about. If her last story is wrapped and she isn’t here, she’s probably following a new lead.”
“Hmmm…,” I sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of,” I tell her before hanging up.
I jump into my truck and write her a text.
Tank – Babe, where are you? Hope you’re being safe. Don’t get yourself in any trouble.
I hit send and shoot off to grab some lunch and am back at the ice rink an hour later.
“Dude,” Cameron, one of the guys says with a scoff. “Where’d you fuck off to?”
“Lunch,” I reply. “I was here four hours before the rest of you.”
“Shit,” he grunts, half impressed and half embarrassed for even asking.
I walk straight past him and dump my shit in the locker room before grabbing my drink bottle and music.
I head off towards the gym to find Miller right beside me. Apparently my win this morning has pulled his motivation right back where it needs to be.
Miller was pretty much in the same position as I was come the end of last season. We were both top of the list for taking the position as captain, but since Mia came along, he’s more than happy to take a backseat on this one. I know it’s always been a dream of his to be captain in the professional league, but I guess things change when you have kids. Now, he’s just happy to go along for the ride. Don’t get me wrong, he still works his ass off for his team and is one of the best players in the whole league.
But me, I want this like you’ll never believe and I’ll stop at nothing until I’ve succeeded. That doesn’t just count for the title. I want to earn the position and be the best damn captain the L.A Storm have ever had.
I’m going to lead this team to victory.
We did it for the last few years and we’ll be damn sure to do it again this season.
Chapter 5
Sophie
Shit. I feel awful. I should have told him what I was up to. Well, he knows me well enough to know I’m following a new lead, it just feels wrong that I didn’t come right out and say it.
I guess I was trying to avoid the inevitable fight that would have come with it… maybe fight is the wrong word, but he would have gone on and on about how I should be relaxing and how my job is too dangerous, blah, blah, blah. But then I would have jumped his bones and rocked his world until he forgot what we were talking about.
Though, to be honest, jumping his bones is a little harder now that there’s this bump attached to my stomach, but that just means we have to be a little more… creative.
Dani always whinged that sex during pregnancy was uncomfortable and that Miller hated the idea of invading his unborn child’s space. Like as if he would poke his baby in the eye or some shit like that. Me and Tank though, we certainly don’t have those reservations. No matter what the occasion, sex is fun… actually, it’s a hell of a lot more than fun, it’s explosive, especially with a machine like Tank.
Mind blowing doesn’t even seem to cover it.
I was up at the crack of dawn this morning, annihilating my peanut butter toast and fruit smoothie as I worked out my plan for the day.
Tank had left early for practice and I swear, even though the season hasn’t started yet, his training sessions have been getting longer and longer which leaves no doubt in my mind that he is going to make captain this year. I’m already so damn proud of him and I can’t wait to see him in action again. I’ve always found watching him dominating the ice one of the sexiest thing known to man. God, it makes me so proud… and hot.
I finish scoffing down my breakfast and get myself showered and ready for the day, making sure I look professional, yet innocent at the same time.
I go over the notes I made yesterday about the case of the dead CEO’s and get myself out the door. I pull up at the office of First Choice Constructions and I’m back out the door within the hour. There’s no way that old guy did it.
First off, he’s like a hundred years old and was going on and on about how he is retiring in a few months and secondly, he didn’t give me that weird, gut feeling that screams ‘HE DID IT’.
I get back in my car and make my way across the city to Baxter Constructions. I double check my notes and take a quick look at the photo attached to his name. The guy would be around mid-thirties and looks like an absolute sleaze ball. He built his company off the money given to him by mommy and daddy and from the news articles I could find, he’s a real loser.
I touch up my lipstick in my rear view mirror and get out of my car as I look up at the massive skyscraper before me. I head inside and over to the reception desk. “Hi, I’m Sophie from Daily Star, I’m here for my scheduled appointment with Mr. Baxter,” I lie.
The receptionist looks at her schedule and gets a nervous look on her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t have you down for an appointment,” she informs me.
“Oh?” I question. “I spoke with Mr. Baxter himself last Thursday. He ensured I had an appointment scheduled for 11 am. Shall I give him a call?” I ask, pulling out my phone.
“Oh, no, no. That won’t be necessary,” the girl says, looking deathly pale. “Go on up. He’s at level 38.”
Geez, worked like a charm. I give her a polite smile and turn on my heel. I press the button for the elevator and wait the thirty seconds for one to arrive. I step into the glass box and press number 38 before turning and watching the view as the elevator skyrockets through the beautiful skyscraper.
I step out of the elevator and instantly find a glass door with ‘Christian Baxter, CEO’ written across the front.
I push my way through and find myself faced with yet another receptionist, or maybe it’s his personal assistant. Who knows? But the one thing I do notice about her is that she looks a lot like me which makes me wonder how I can possibly use that to my advantage.
I step up to the young girl who looks at me with a bright, welcoming smile. “Hi,” she starts. “You must be Sophie. Welcome to Baxter Corporation. My name is Aimee.”
“Thank you, Aimee,” I say, pleasantly surprised that downstairs had actually communicated with upstairs.
“Forgive me for asking, but can you remind me the nature of your appointment?”
“Of course,” I smile. “As I mentioned to your reception downstairs, I’m from Daily Starr Magazine and I have an interview with Mr. Baxter.”
“Oh,” she says with her eyes widening in surprise. “What’s the interview in relation to?”
“Mr. Baxter has been nominated for this year’s sexiest bachelor award, I just need a few comments from him and I’ll be on my way,” I tell her.
“Right,” she says as her eyebrows crease together. “Wasn’t he awarded that last month?”
“No,” I say with a slight shake of my head. “That was the ‘Money Makers under forty’ award, so now all the ladies are going to know he is not only a bachelor, but he’s raking it in too,” I grin with a playful wink.
Her face flushes but she agrees to take me in. She leads me down a long hallway and through a maze of glass windowed offices then right to the end. With a swipe of he
r key card, I’m ushered straight on into Christian Baxter’s office.
The office is huge and I find Christian instantly, talking on his phone as he stands at the massive room length window. I know he heard my entrance by the sound of my heels clicking on his polished marble flooring, though, being the pompous ass that he is, he ignores me and forces me to wait until he’s good and ready.
I make myself at home as I head on over to his bar. I grab a glass tumbler, fill it up with a few ice cubes and pour myself some water. I gingerly take my time as I shuffle over towards the massive couch and make myself comfortable. I pull out my notepad and pen which has a list of ridiculous questions and tap my fingernails impatiently on the side of the glass tumbler.
I do my best to take in his office, working out where he would keep personal files and any kind of information on his competitors because let’s face it, this guy hasn’t said a word yet and I can already tell he plays dirty. Whether or not he did what I think he might have done, there will be some sort of incriminating information within these walls.
Five minutes later, he finally hangs up his call and turns to me with an annoyed scowl. The moment he takes me in his eyes widen in interest and a sleazy grin takes over his face. Ugh, what a loser. He takes a few steps towards me and I rise up off the couch. Christian holds a hand out to me and I do the same. The moment he takes in my wedding rings and protruding baby bump, his face pulls up in disgust and disinterest.
Score one for me.
“I’m Christian Baxter, how can I help you?” he asks as he drops my hand.
I give him a polite smile. “Sophie Meyers,” I say. “I’m here with Daily Star Magazine, covering your ‘Sexiest Bachelor of the year’ nomination,” I inform him.
“Huh?” he grunts. “Did I not do this interview a few weeks ago?”
“No,” I say with a flirty smile. “That was a separate nomination. Apparently, you’re quite a popular guy.”
He gives me a cocky grin as he takes a seat opposite to the one I had just vacated. “By all means then,” he says, sweeping his arm out and inviting me to take my seat.
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