"He's pissed because I took his phone away."
"Not even close, Simms."
One of Logan's dark brows shot up in clear disbelief. "Oh, that's right. You're pouting because your woman hasn't texted you. What's the matter, Johnson? Not used to being on the other end, are you?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Christian nudged him out of the way with a hand to the chest. "Details, Simms. Now. What woman? And if she's ignoring Loverboy over here, I need to meet her."
"You already did. It's the goalie from the Blades. What's her name? Shelly. Sharon. Something like that."
"It's Shannon. And she's not my woman." Caleb's voice was low and tight, filled with a warning he didn't understand. He realized his mistake almost immediately, knew he should have kept his fucking mouth shut as soon as he saw the expressions on the faces of teammates. Surprise. Disbelief. Amazement.
Laughter.
He leveled a scowl at Christian, the expression feral enough that the man should have been backing away in fear. Instead, he laughed even harder, nearly bent over as he tried to catch his breath. He finally straightened and ran the back of his hand across his eyes.
"No. Fucking. Way. Are you seriously dating her?"
Caleb opened his mouth to say yes, then just as quickly snapped it shut. Yeah, he had used some creative spinning when he'd told Shannon they had technically been out on four dates but that's all it was—creative spin. They'd been out, yeah, but they weren't dates. Not even close. It was like she had told him: a date was when you got dressed up to go out to dinner and the movies or dancing or clubbing or something. What they'd done hadn't even come close.
But damn if he didn't feel like they were dating, especially with some of those kisses they had shared. Kisses that left him reeling and panting for more.
Panting? Christ, what was he, some kind of fucking dog?
He thought back to the other night at his place, remembered the feel of Shannon's body as she straddled his lap and rocked her hips against him.
Yeah, definitely panting like some damn dog. He'd be damned if he'd admit that to any of these guys.
"Well, are you?"
Caleb gave himself a mental shake then slowly focused on Christian. He cleared his throat, nodded, shook his head. "We're still working out the details."
Hunter nudged him in the side. "Well hell. If you're not, let me know, because she is smoking hot. Like, I'd gladly get burned by her."
"Don't even think about it, asshole. She's off-limits so don't even try." He ignored the surprise on everyone's face, breathing in a sigh of relief when the elevator finally reached the lobby level. The doors opened and Caleb pushed his way out, wondering again if he should just go back to his room.
"Well shit." Hunter nudged him forward, away from the escape the elevators offered. "I thought that whole thing was just a publicity stunt for that stupid fucking game we're being forced to play."
"Yeah, seriously." Jacob moved in front of them then started walking backward, a frown on his face. "How the fuck did that thing even get approved? The last thing I want to do is play against a bunch of women. We're going to have to tone down our play so much, we might as well just go out on the ice blindfolded."
"Um, yeah. I wouldn't be so sure of that."
"What are you talking about?"
Caleb shook his head as they walked into the hotel bar. The noise level was a little higher here, music and conversation mingling to create a low din. He glanced around, noticed the crowd already gathered around the bar, the lack of open tables. And fuck, this was the last place he wanted to be right now, especially since the puck bunnies were already moving toward them.
Caleb backed up a step then stopped, his gaze landing on a set of tables in the back corner. And thank God, some of the guys were already sitting there—Shane Masters and Jaxon Miller and Marc Sanford, guarding the empty chairs around them.
He headed straight toward the table, blatantly ignoring the come-hither looks on the faces of a few women. He didn't bother to look their way, or even acknowledge them when they called his name. The only time he paused was to grab Christian by the back of his collar and jerk him away from the two bunnies who had latched onto him.
"Hey. I was talking—"
"Talk later." He released Christian's collar then grabbed a chair and dropped it into it. Then he turned to Logan and held out his hand. "I need my phone."
"Nope. No way. Not if you're just going to sit there, pouting, while you keep checking it all night."
"I'm not checking it. There's something I need to show you guys."
Logan watched him for a few long seconds, then finally heaved a sigh and dug Caleb's phone from his pocket. "Fine. But the first time I see you checking it, I'm taking it away."
Shane Masters leaned across the table, his bruised hand wrapped around a dark glass bottle. "Check what? Why's he pouting?"
"Nothing. Not important." Caleb waved the question off, staring at the screen on his phone as he scrolled through several social media apps. What the hell? Why wasn't he finding it anywhere? That save should have gone viral by now. His little show for the kiss cam last week had gone viral in a matter of minutes, not to mention the clips from his botched interview.
So why the hell couldn't he find a replay of Shannon's save?
He shook his head in frustration then gave up and went to the Blades' social media page. Sure enough, there it was. He frowned, wondering again why the hell nobody else had picked it up, then tapped the short video. He gave it a quick share from his profile then nudged Jacob.
"Hey, Riley. Check this out. Still think we need to tone-down our play for that exhibition game?" Caleb turned the phone so everyone could see then tapped the play button. You couldn't hear anything, not with the noise in the bar, but you didn't need to—the video didn't need any narration.
"What. The. Fuck." Shane sagged against the table, nearly spilling his beer. Identical expressions of amazement filled the faces staring back at him.
"No fucking way."
"Holy shit."
"Wait. Play it again. There's no way—" Hunter leaned forward, frowning as he stared at the video. He sat back in his chair, his dark eyes wide with the same surprise Caleb had felt when he'd first seen it live.
"Hey. Do you think she does that move in bed? Because damn, can you imagine how—"
Caleb's hand shot out and clipped Shane on the shoulder before he could stop himself. The reaction was entirely hypocritical because Caleb had that same exact thought hours earlier. That didn't mean he was going to put up with listening to any of his teammates voice the same question. "You're a fucking ass. Don't talk about her that way."
"Whoa. Seriously? What the hell is your problem?"
"That's Caleb's woman, leave her alone." Logan reached for the phone, replaying the video again as half-a-dozen faces turned to study Caleb. He ignored the questioning glances, tried to hide the spurt of possessiveness shooting through him.
Caleb's woman. Why did he like the sound of that?
Logan slid the phone across the table then sat back in his chair. "Damn. She's good."
"Yeah, no shit."
"Does the rest of the team play as well as her?"
Caleb shrugged, almost embarrassed to admit he didn't know. "I'm not sure, but probably. Hell, Taylor LeBlanc is the team's captain and she's good enough to play for us."
"Isn't Sonny LeBlanc her dad?"
"Yup. And JP Larocque is her uncle."
"Well shit." Jacob's eloquent words echoed around the silent table. The silence lengthened, finally broken when Shane smothered a small belch then uttered a curse.
"Maybe we can get your woman to give Connelly a few pointers because his game has been sucking wind."
"You can say that again." Caleb pocketed his phone then glanced around the table. "Speaking of Connelly, where is he?"
"No idea. He dropped his shit as soon as we got here then headed out."
"He didn't say wher
e he was going?"
"Not a word. He's still pissed he got pulled in the second."
"What the hell did he think was going to happen? He's been playing like shit lately. I'm surprised Coach even started him tonight."
"Yeah, well—I heard a rumor he might not even be with us for much longer."
Silence greeted Jaxon's announcement. He glanced around the table, a furious blush coloring his face at being the center of attention. He slid down in the seat then offered a half-hearted shrug. "Hey, it's just a rumor. No idea if it's true or not."
"What are they going to do, send him down to the Bombers?"
"If what I heard was true, they're looking to completely cut their losses and trade him. I also heard they're looking to make a deal and bring Corbin Gauthier back."
"Gauthier? Are you fucking crazy?" Shane took a long swallow of beer then slammed the bottle on the table. "Where the fuck do you even hear these things? Gauthier's what, thirty? Thirty-two? He's at the end of his career. Why the hell would they want to bring him back now?"
"Hey, don't go tarring the messenger. I'm just repeating what I heard. And Gauthier's still pretty damn good. He's got at least a few more years left in him."
"And he's definitely been playing better than Connelly has."
Several heads nodded in agreement with Hunter's quiet statement. Caleb brushed off the rumors, chalking them up to nonsense—even if he had heard the same thing a few weeks ago. Yeah, trades happened all the time. And yeah, Connelly was playing like shit. They'd probably just send him down to the Bombers and pull one of the goalies from there. That's the only thing that made sense.
"They're not going to trade Connelly. No way. We just need to talk some sense into him, get his head back in the game—especially before this exhibition game."
"Why before the exhibition game? Wait. No fucking way." Jacob swallowed back a bark of laughter then popped Caleb in the shoulder. "You're not actually worried about it, are you? I mean, I don't care how good you think they might be, there's no way the Blades can touch us. Not happening."
"No, probably not," Caleb agreed. "But how fucking mortifying would it be if they did?"
"Yeah. Again—not happening."
"But what if—"
"No buts." Jacob leaned to the side and draped a heavy arm around Caleb's shoulders. "And if you're that worried about it, I suggest you start working on your woman."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Just what I said. She's your woman, right? Maybe you need to think about working a little harder to wear her sweet ass out. Make her so tired the night before the game, she won't be able to think about anything else except soaking her bruised muscles."
Shane tapped him on the shoulder with a leer, one that made Caleb cringe. Christ, had he ever talked that way? Yeah, probably. And just like Shane, he hadn't really meant it, it was nothing more than just talk—which made him feel even worse. And he couldn't say a damn thing in response, not unless he wanted to be on the receiving end of a dozen jokes. So he kept quiet as Shane pushed away from the table.
"Now if you guys will excuse me, I have some women to enlighten."
Laughter greeted Shane's parting words. Several of the other guys stood up to join him, making their way over to the group of waiting bunnies. Caleb glanced around, realized it was just him and Jaxon and Hunter left.
What the fuck was wrong with him? Usually he was the first one to leave, the first one to find eager company for the night. The idea held no appeal and hadn't for a long time.
"You're not really thinking of taking Jacob's advice, are you?"
"What? Hell no. And I don't think it was really advice. I'm pretty sure he was just talking big, trying to show off."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. He's got an ego the size of an Olympic rink." Jaxon guzzled the last of his beer then pushed away from the table. "I'm heading up."
Hunter looked up in surprise. "What? Already? I thought we were going to find a club or something."
"Nah. I'm done." He turned toward Caleb. "You going out with these guys?"
Caleb hesitated. Should he go out? It was still early, plenty of time to go find a club somewhere and have a few drinks. It was what they usually did if they got the chance.
But he didn't want to. Not tonight. Not after Jacob's careless comments. Not when there was a chance he might miss a call or text from Shannon. He'd be able to hear his phone better in the quiet of his own room—as long as Logan didn't drown everything out with his snoring.
Caleb shook his head and stood up. "No, I'm calling it a night, too."
Chapter Fifteen
Shannon jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket, wishing again that she was wearing one of her heavy sweatshirts underneath instead of a dressy sweater. The sweater might look nice with the black slacks and low-heeled boots, but it sucked as far as warmth went.
If she had known the warehouse was going to be so cold, she would have reconsidered her wardrobe choices—especially since several of her teammates were watching her with unveiled curiosity. That she had anticipated. What surprised her so far was that nobody had said anything about the way she was dressed, not even Taylor.
Although Taylor looked preoccupied, even a little worried, so maybe it wasn't a surprise she hadn't said anything. Yet.
Shannon glanced at her watch then bit back a sigh as she looked around. Almost everyone was here—everyone except Rachel and Amanda. Not that Amanda counted, not really. She was still officially on the roster but she wasn't playing because she was still going through rehab. The latest rumor was that she was finishing up and might actually return in time to finish the season. Shannon wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her was sympathetic—a very small part. The rest of her? Not so much. How could she just throw everything away like that for a quick fix? It wasn't just Amanda's potential career—it was the reputation of everyone else on the team. Hell, the reputation of the league itself. There had been a major shit storm when Amanda collapsed on the ice a few months ago—even more when they discovered it was because of her drug problem. Yeah, that had been ugly. Beyond ugly.
And yeah, Shannon knew it was an addiction. Knew that addicts had no control and didn't know what they were doing. The logical part of her brain understood that. The emotional side of her—the one filled with passion for playing—struggled to understand the why behind it. Which was stupid, because why didn't matter when drugs and addiction were involved.
She bit back another sigh—this one filled with impatience—and pushed all thoughts of Amanda from her mind. This meeting wasn't about Amanda—it was about their upcoming exhibition game.
And Shannon was going to miss it if Taylor didn't start soon. She had a date with Caleb tonight—a real, actual date. They were going out for a late dinner then catching an even later movie. And after that...she wasn't sure. She knew what she wanted to do, she just wasn't sure if it was the smart thing to do.
"How much longer are we going to wait before getting started?" Dani finally asked the question that everyone else had been thinking. A few more voices chimed in, echoing around the cavernous room before finally disappearing in the dark shadows overhead.
Taylor glanced at her watch then leaned against the back of the worn sofa. Springs creaked with the movement and she quickly sat back up, shooting a frown at Sammie. The other woman shrugged, a small smile of apology on her face.
"It's a warehouse, not an office. What did you expect?"
Shannon looked around again, taking in the concrete floors. The large sturdy cabinets secured by even larger locks. The interior doors leading to what she assumed were offices, also securely locked. Well, almost all. One door was open, light spilling from it in a harsh slash along the floor. Sammie's ex-husband—or rather, her soon-to-be-husband—was back there with one of his buddies, their voices nothing more than deep rumblings seeping into the chilliness of the large room.
Shannon hunched her shoulders around her ears to ward off the co
ld. She'd bet anything that they had heat in that office.
"How come they're in there where it's warm and we're stuck out here?"
"Because that room is too small for all of us." Sammie glanced over at the office then leaned closer and lowered her voice. "Besides, they're having a meeting."
Jordyn Knott stared at the open door then turned toward Sammie. "What exactly do they do again?"
"Oh, you know." Sammie laughed and waved her hand from side-to-side. "Security and, um, stuff."
"'Stuff'? What kind of 'stuff'?"
"Just, you know, um, stuff."
"We could tell you, then we'd have to kill you."
At least seven of her teammates jumped at the menacing words uttered in a gravelly voice. Twelve of eyes turned to stare at the men standing just outside the door. Large, foreboding, their bodies nothing more than intimidating silhouettes framed by the light coming from behind them. The only thing missing was dramatic music.
Shannon bit back her laughter, nearly choking on it. She didn't think either man would appreciate it, especially Mac. He was so damned scary, even though he was doing nothing more than simply standing there.
At least, he would be, if not for the three-year-old girl clinging to him like he was her favorite teddy bear.
Shannon quickly averted her gaze and covered her mouth, trying to hide the strangled laughter that threatened to fall from her mouth. She cleared her throat then snapped her fingers in Taylor's attention.
"Can we get started already? I need to leave in—" She glanced at her watch and frowned. "In twenty minutes."
"Where are you going?"
"It doesn't matter. Just get started already, will you?"
Taylor studied her with a frown. She opened her mouth then snapped it shut, obviously reconsidering whatever she had been about to say. Well, that was a first. Shannon had expected the third degree, had been waiting for it ever since she pulled through the automatic gate at the end of the long drive leading up to this place. Now she started to worry, wondering why Taylor wasn't questioning her.
A quiet Taylor couldn't be good. Unless she had already figured out where Shannon was going. But if that was the case, wouldn't she be giving Shannon a hard time about it?
Playing Hard_A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance Page 11