Did she really grind up on him while giving him a lap dance, then take off her top like some… well, like a stripper. She sighed. That’s exactly what she was, just some stripper.
She wasn’t ashamed of what she did for a living; it was only a job. But she never wanted her family or friends to know, never wanted to see their disappointment in her choices. She was only doing it until she had enough to buy her art gallery and hopefully start to sell her paintings. That was her real dream.
No one would tell her to hide her tattoos here, and if they didn’t like it, they could leave. The tatts seemed to work in her favor; the customers seemed to like them, and a lot of them would ask for her personally. That meant more money for her. This was just a pit stop on the way to her destiny.
But Dom was never supposed to know about it. No one was.
She’d messed up. In her rush to move to Pittsburgh, she hadn’t thought to do her research to see if he was still in the Professional Hockey League or where he was located. Deep down, she didn’t want to know where he was; it was easier not looking at all. She should’ve known things were going too smoothly, and that they were bound to come crashing down soon.
“Hailee?” Sasha’s voice called through the door. “You okay?”
If there was one person here that she trusted, it was Sasha. She slowly moped to the door and unlocked it, letting her friend in.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Sasha, shut the door. No one followed me back here, did they?” Dom was not one to back down, and she had no plans to face him again. Ever.
“No, why? What happened?” Sasha sat down next to her and pulled her close. “Oh honey, you’re shaking.”
Sasha knew the personal struggles that came with working here. Hailee fought back the sobs building up in her throat. Why am I so upset over this? “Remember the ex that I told you about?”
Sasha answered, “The hockey player? Wait. Oh no…” She glanced at the door, and her face formed a twisted look of horror as her brain put it all together.
Hailee nodded. The words weren’t forming. She had told Sasha all about Dom, and how and why she had ended up in Pittsburgh via Ontario, so there was no explanation necessary.
“The hockey team having the party in VIP, that’s his?”
Hailee nodded again. How did she not think to check the local team? She still talked to Mia from back home, and Mia’s brother was a buddy of Dom’s. Wouldn’t she at least have let Hailee know?
Ironically, she had told them all she didn’t want to know anything about Dom or hear any hockey talk. This was the one time she wished everyone, or at least one person, hadn’t listened to her.
“You didn’t know he was here?”
Finding her voice and wiping the unshed tears away from her eyes, Hailee sat up straight and pulled her knees to her chest. “Nope.”
Sasha did her best to act as though she didn’t care, shrugging and tossing her hand in the air with a wave. “So what if he saw you working? Who cares? I mean, I get that it wasn’t the best first impression, but again, who cares? He was the one here getting a lap dance! Shouldn’t he maybe be a little embarrassed? You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Look at you with that gorgeous face and rocking body. Girl, you are beautiful.”
Sasha wasn’t wrong. Besides the fact that I was topless. And thoroughly enjoying rubbing all over him. Taking a deep breath, Hailee wiped her eyes. “Sasha you are absolutely right. Why do I care what he thinks? Screw him.” The words exited her mouth with confidence, but the sick rolling of her stomach and the ache in her chest persisted. After all this time, she really did still care what he thought.
* * *
Hailee wiped her paint-spotted hands on a rag and stepped back to look at her canvas. She had talked a big game with Sasha earlier tonight, but when she painted, she wore her heart on her sleeve. That was certainly evident as she stared at her newest painting. It was Dominic in full hockey gear, defending his goal. The image was burned into her brain. During better times, she had been at every practice and every game. She was his biggest fan. Until she wasn’t.
“Why do I do this to myself?” She whined. Every few months she had a mini-meltdown, and instead of wallowing in her own self-pity, she painted. Painting always helped her relax; it was her happy place. Someday she hoped that other people would enjoy her art as much as she did, so she could paint full time and make a living out of it. Ironically, most of her paintings were of hockey, although that was what she had run from, trying to keep her own independence.
She used to have her future planned out. She and Dom were going to take the hockey and art world by storm — together. But plans changed.
Her paintings were displayed on the other side of her loft. Looking around, she was well aware that too many of them were of Dominic. He was her past, and painting was her future. She liked Pittsburgh and wanted that future to be here. If she could get enough money to rent the spot by Alison’s Pet Salon, that would be one less thing to worry about while she saved more. The goal was to work only one job — as the gallery owner — and, of course, paint and sell her paintings. As long as she could steadily sell paintings or host gallery events, she wouldn’t have to dance anymore.
Standing back, she looked at the painting. Her breathing evened out and her heartbeat slowed. Seeing Dom again had affected her more than she thought possible. The ache in her chest still lingered, but the shock of what happened earlier tonight had faded and she was back in her safe zone. Pulling out a fresh canvas, she filled a clean palette with new colors. She would deal with any fallout tomorrow; right now, she would just paint.
CHAPTER SIX
Dominic
Dom paced the floors of his townhouse, as his gray cat Smokey weaved in and out of his feet. What in the fuck did I just see? Maybe his mind had been playing tricks on him, the alcohol combined with thinking about her earlier. There’s no way that was Hailee taking her clothes off for money. Yes, it looked like her, but the way she was dressed, or not dressed, that purple hair, and all those tattoos… That couldn’t have been her.
Hailee didn’t have tattoos, well, not as of the last time he’d seen her. And her hair was a soft, light brown color, not purple. Smokey meowed at his feet, calling for his attention. “C’mere, boy.” Picking up the furry animal, Dom’s body warmed and his worry faded. Smokey rubbed his soft head against Dom’s cheek, and kneaded on Dominic’s arm with his paws. His buzz had worn off now, however he’d been able to salvage the night with help of lots of alcohol, at the insistence of the guys. The last thing he’d wanted to do was ruin Ty’s bachelor party.
Lyssa had shown back up when he returned to the tables after his unexpected encounter with Hailee. Lyssa kept his drinks refilled, but he didn’t want her. Not after being so turned on by Foxy, who ended up being Hailee, and then the shock of her, well, being Hailee.
He had refused to pout or make a scene with the guys there; he just wanted to see the girl again and find out for sure if she was really Hailee or if he’d just imagined her. But she hadn’t reappeared, and downing beer after beer, eventually he didn’t remember all that happened. His memory was spotted with recollections of lap dances, as well as assorted grinding female body parts in his face.
Looking in the mirror now, he noticed lipstick smeared on his neck. Was it from Hailee, or did something else happen during the night? Probably should check with Kris to find out what all that went on. Kris wouldn’t have let things get too out of control. He hoped.
Checking his phone, he found no voicemails from Paige. That was good news. If he had done anything over the top stupid, it would’ve ended up on the internet, and Paige would’ve lost her mind on him by now. Soon-to-be-Mrs. Tyler Kidd was a cute thing, but had the attitude of Mother Hen. And you didn’t want to piss her off.
He did know that Pat and Kris drove him home, but the rest was a bit foggy. And, he came home alone. He didn’t get shit-faced often because that was exactly what happened when he did, and his life a
nd career didn’t need the drama.
His eyes fell on the only painting in his place, of him and Hailee riding his motorcycle the summer they took a weekend trip to Lake Ontario. He had just finished his first season in the juniors with the Vipers. Hailee painted it. The sunset was in the background. She’d talk for hours about that sunset; she saw beauty in colors that no one else did. That was the artist in her. He might not have understood what she was talking about, but the way she was so passionate about it was a turn on.
Now the painting held the last of his memories. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair, loosening the remaining styling gel.
They’d been so good together. His thoughts went to her being at his every game, sitting in the stands bundled up in her white fluffy jacket, white scarf, and hat to keep warm. Her cheers were the loudest and he could actually hear her from the ice each time he scored. She had been his biggest fan and his biggest motivation.
Win or lose, she’d always waited for him outside the locker rooms with open arms. It was the best trophy and the sweetest consolation prize.
Smokey let out a loud meow that verged on a scream. He didn’t like that he was being ignored.
“Hungry, boy?”
The cat weaved in and out of Dom’s feet as he followed Dom into the kitchen, and then watched closely as a new can of food was opened and put in his food bowl.
“Here you go.” Dom sat the bowl down on the kitchen floor. Smokey looked up at him and tilted his head before scrunching up his back and rubbing up against Dom’s leg. “Yeah, you’re right, buddy. I’m sure it wasn’t her.” Now if his heart only believed the words that left his mouth, he’d be golden.
* * *
Practice this morning was grueling. Coach Walker was running the team hard, probably well aware they’d all been out drinking the other night. The fact that Dom was barely able to drag himself out of bed yesterday was all the proof he needed that the bar scene was not for him.
The rookies were especially slow today and were made to do laps and suicide drills. It didn’t take long for them to figure out they had better step up or coach was going to continue to make their lives miserable. They’d think twice about drinking that much next time, especially during the season.
To make things tougher on the guys, today was an open practice, which meant they allowed fans in the arena to watch. Screaming kids and females lined the glass. The noise level was intense, and it made coach ride them more than usual. When he blew the whistle and the team broke into laps, they raced around the ice, some trying to out-do others.
Dom fell back with Kaden and headed to the bench. They stretched out as they skated across the ice, limbering up and loosening their muscles by practically doing splits before they stopped by the bench for a quick drink.
Propping his helmet on top of his head, Dom poured the cold Gatorade into his mouth, careful not to drip any on his white jersey. His hair fell into his eyes; with one movement he pushed it away and the female screaming got louder. It was difficult not to look around the full stands, and his curiosity got the better of him. Less than half of the lower bowl was filled, starting at his goal and ending behind the Renegades bench.
This was not the time or place to be moody over what happened at the club. He needed to swallow all that doubt and just play hockey.
Kaden tapped him on the shin pads with his stick and skated off to his end of the ice. He teased, “Get ready to do those laps!”
“Whatever, dude.” He had no intention of doing laps. Kaden was good, but Dom was confident that he was better.
“Loser buys lunch?” Kaden called as he made his way across the ice, securing his mask in place.
Dom wasn’t really planning on company for lunch, but a wingman might not be a bad idea. He needed to see for himself if it had really been her at the club. But if it was, he couldn’t be sure how he would react, so having Kaden with him might be a good idea. Looked like lunch would be at The Cat House.
Dom skated to his net, dropping his mask onto his face. A glance to the back of the net verified his water bottle was still there, he’d need that. Digging his skates into the blue paint, he skated side to side, grinding up the slick ice until he felt comfortable on the frozen surface.
Coach Walker blew the whistle and the guys lined up at the center ice. Gray was shooting at him, white was shooting at Kaden. Pucks flew at Dom, testing his reaction time, and it was on point. Deflecting pucks, catching a few, he only let in a handful. Guys were speeding down the ice at him. He loved the pace of this drill. There was nothing better than the rapid fire. The sound of the pucks slamming off the glass behind him was like mini explosions and had him intensely focusing, almost forgetting about the fans around him, almost forgetting what weighed heavy on his mind.
The players circled around and back to the center ice for one or two more turns. Coach Walker blew the whistle and the team split up for the scrimmage game. They were running a three on three scrimmage. White jerseys against grays. Loser had to do laps. At least he was able to focus on his game instead of anything else.
The first line up for gray was Tyler, Pat and Kris. White had Torin, Mateo and Luc. Luc was impressive as a defenseman; he would put his body on the line without a thought. The kid had been lucky too, had escaped many injuries that could’ve been bad. It wasn’t that he was reckless; it was that his heart belonged to the game and he wanted to be the best at all times.
Luc slid in front of a hard shot by Kris; the fact that Dom heard Luc grunt as the puck bounced off his thigh told him how hard the shot was. Refocusing on the game, Pat shot at his head, catching the corner of his mask.
Dom was rattled for a second. “Hey! Watch it, scrub!” he teased.
“Stop your whining, girly ass,” Pat said as he skated by the net.
“Yeah, don’t mess up his pretty face, Pat,” Ty called before taking the puck out towards center ice and passing to Kris.
Tyler barked an incomprehensible order to Kris before he sped towards Dom. Kris wristed a one-timer to Tyler, and he flipped it right over Dom’s shoulder.
The fans screamed and applauded, some even banged on the glass. They chanted Dom’s name, and some chanted Tyler’s. Kids held up signs.
With a laugh, Tyler did a victory lap around Dom.
“Don’t get too cocky, Kidd, that’ll be your only score,” Dom yelled.
The whistle blew and the men lined back up. This time Jaxon, Kyler and Sam were on white. Matt, Tanner and Roman were on gray. Sam helped keep the puck out of their zone, and all the heat was on Kaden this time. Kyler shielded Sam while he shot the puck up past Kaden’s ear.
“Score!” Sam yelled and did a little lap before they all headed to the bench for line changes. The fans roared, cheering and clapping.
Dom’s eyes stung as sweat dripped down his face. Before the next rush, he grabbed his water bottle and squirted cool water through his mask, briefly cooling himself off. Taking his place back in the net, he slid side to side, digging his skates into the ice. He lightly tapped the metal goal post to his left. It was out of habit more than necessity. During games, he tapped the goal posts, thanking them when they helped him keep a puck out of his goal.
But this was only practice, and during practice he liked to harass the other guys. Patrick rushed to the net shooting left, straight into his glove. “Ha ha, not today, Patty boy. Next time put some muscle into it!”
Quickly getting back into position, Kris shot at him, just missing the net. “Man you have no aim. Dude, the goal is over here. Hoser!”
Behind him, the fans cheered loudly and pounded on the glass as Tyler rushed to the net. Dom’s job was to ignore the fans. His job was also to stop players like Tyler. He passed the puck to Patrick, and he slid it back across the ice to Ty. Before he could react, Tyler shot a strong wrister at the net, sliding the biscuit right under Dom’s pads.
“Dammit!” Dom yelled as he slammed his stick against the ice. Reminding himself there were plenty of kid
s watching, he took a breath and calmed. Tyler was expected to score; he was the league’s star. Dom just didn’t like Ty scoring on him. He didn’t like anyone scoring on him.
The crowd roared around the arena, cheering on their captain. “That’s right, stroke his ego, like it’s not big enough as it is,” Dom mumbled jokingly under his mask. He was fairly sure no one could hear him, until Patrick tapped his leg pad with his stick.
“I know, right? If it gets any bigger he won’t be able to get his helmet on that big melon anymore.” Pat chuckled and rolled his eyes. “It’s only practice, no need to showboat, Ty.”
“I let him score. You know, make him look good in front of the fans. They don’t need to know that he’s just a bender,” Dom joked, louder this time. His mask covered his mouth and he wanted the guys to hear him. That was his thing, razzing the guys during practice.
Tyler moved his gloved hand like a duck bill, mocking their chatter. “Less talk, ladies, more playing,” he quipped. “You need to be sharper than that, Dom. You forget, I’m all score.”
“Whatever. You think you’re all score. You’re actually all bore!” Dom knew that was a lame comeback, but it was all he had.
“Don’t be jealous, Dom. Someday you can be like me, with a little more practice.” Tyler cracked a smile, then tapped his leg pad. “Nice try anyway.”
The scrimmage game was tied at two apiece. Coach blew his whistle and each team returned to their bench. Coach Walker pointed to three men on the gray team, and assistant coach Sal pointed to three on white. “Line up for the shootout!”
Dom craved shootouts; they were his favorite. Just him against the shooter. One on one.
Sam shot at Kaden first, a fake out to his left, then a quick wrister from the right and GOAL!
Shutout (The Renegades Series Book 5) Page 6