“We didn’t get together for a few weeks after that. That night was before your charity event, remember. Beckett and I didn’t get together until Christmas.”
“That’s right. Crazy how much time has passed already,” she says as we walk into the restaurant where we find JC standing off to the side, waiting on us.
“Ladies,” he greets us. “Beck.” They do the whole hand slap-pulled into a man-hug ritual thing guys tend to do these days.
“Have you checked in with the hostess?” I ask him, motioning to the stand a few feet away from us.
“Nope, I wasn’t sure who all was coming, so I figured I’d wait until y’all got here.”
“Just the four of us,” I tell him, and walk up to the stand to get us a table. We’re seated right away, and even though she hands us all menus, not one of us actually opens one up since we all love coming here and know what we want without even looking.
“Babe, are you going to share your guacamole with everyone?” Beckett asks before the server approaches the table, and my look tells him exactly what I think about his question. Hell no, and he damn well knows that. He just likes to mess with me over my obsession with their homemade guacamole.
“Not a chance in hell,” I say and everyone at the table, me included, laughs at my reply.
He leans over to kiss my forehead. “Didn’t think so.”
“Good evening, what can I get started for the four of you?” our server asks. She must be new as I don’t recognize her, and I see the moment she realizes who is sitting at her table because her eyes go big, like saucers.
“We’ll start with four orders of your table side guacamole,” Jill tells her.
It takes her a few moments for the shock to wear off, but she finally snaps out of her trance and writes down the order. “Can I get y’all something to drink?”
“Want to share a pitcher of margaritas?” I ask Jill.
“Of course,” she says, so I turn to our server. “We’ll take a pitcher of the house margaritas on the rocks, two glasses, both with salt rims, please.”
“And for the two of you?” she asks, pointing to the guys, who are sitting across from each other.
“Water is fine with me,” Beckett tells her.
“Same for me,” JC replies, a small smirk on his face. “We’re also ready to order.”
We tell the server what we want to eat, and she gives us a smile.
“Coming right up. Oh, will this all be on one check, or separate?” she asks.
“One,” Beckett says, just as Jill pipes up, “Those two on one and separate for this side of the table.”
“No, just one will do and give it to me,” Beckett tells the girl over Jill’s instructions.
“Beckett, I can pay for my own dinner,” she tries to insist.
“And you can say, ‘Thanks for dinner, Beckett’, and not argue with me about it.”
“Thanks for dinner, Beckett,” she pretend mocks before the subject is changed.
“So, do you guys know yet who you’ll play in the first round?” Jill asks the guys.
“Not yet. Most likely, we’ll play Minnesota first, but the last couple of spots won’t be decided until the final games of the regular season. We’ve only locked in a guaranteed spot in the playoffs, but our positioning can change, depending on how the last few games of the season play out. Our standings change based on every win and loss of not only our team, but also those in our division,” Beckett explains.
“Sounds complicated,” Jill states.
“It can be, but with the handful of regular season games left to play, it’s still a tossup on who’s going to end the season in what position. All that matters is, we’ve come back from a losing record and have earned our way into the playoffs.”
“And all thanks to this guy,” JC says, pointing across the table at Beckett.
“I can’t take all the credit,” he replies, trying to brush off the praise from JC.
Just then, our server returns with our drinks, another person following behind her with our dinner. Everything looks great, and we tell her as much, before she leaves us.
“If it wasn’t for you stepping in and up when Tyler got hurt, I don’t know where we’d be,” JC tells him, picking the conversation right back up. “Definitely not getting ready to play in the playoffs, that’s for sure.”
“Everyone stepped up,” Beckett insists. “We finally learned how to work as a team and play off of each other’s strengths.”
“Now, that’s the truth. Finally knocked Watts off his pedestal.” He laughs. “Fucking rookies,” he says into his water glass as he shakes his head, obviously thinking about some antics that Watts pulled at some point this season.
“He has seemed a little less cocky out on the ice lately. What happened with that?” Jill asks the guys.
“Coach finally put him in his place. Sat him a few games to teach him a lesson. Made him realize he might be a natural talent, but that doesn’t mean he can be an asshole to everyone else on the team. A few games watching from the press box and some extra drills at practice for a week got through his head. It was touch-and-go there for a little while. I almost thought they were ready to trade him because of his attitude, but the kid came around and has actually turned into a good teammate,” Beckett tells us.
“What a cocky asshole,” Jill says.
“Eh, I’ve played with worse,” JC states. “He’s just young, probably always the hotshot for any team he played for, and they just dealt with his assholeishness because he can score under pressure and is a damn good skater.”
“I don’t care how good you are as a player, still doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to everyone. Let me guess, he’s all about the puck bunnies,” Jill asks, rolling her eyes along with her question.
“What would you know about puck bunnies?” JC asks her, amusement lacing his voice as a smirk fills his lips.
“That they’ll do just about anything to sleep with a player or, even better, get one into a relationship because they see the dollar signs or want the quasi-celebrity status that comes with being associated with a player. It’s kind of repulsive listening to some of them talk about their ‘conquests’ and what lengths they go through to get with some of you guys. I also don’t know how you guys can be okay with all being with the same girls, even if it is just a one-night stand.”
“Hey, now, don’t go lumping all of us into the same category. Not all of us entertain the bunnies,” JC protests. “This man”—he points across to Beckett—“only ever had eyes for this one.” He points at me. “From the moment I met him, he was already all moony-eyed over her. And I’d like to set the record straight that I haven’t ‘entertained’ a bunny since I was a rookie, and that was a long fucking time ago. I figured out quickly that fast women weren’t my thing. I didn’t need that kind of distraction or drama in my life.”
“Sorry to have assumed,” Jill tells him sheepishly.
“On that note, ready to go?” Beckett asks everyone.
We all slip out of the booth and head for the exit, where he stops at the hostess stand to pay the bill.
“Thanks for meeting us tonight,” I tell Jill as we reach the cars.
“Thanks for the invite. It was good to see you, let’s plan on something soon.”
“Sounds perfect. I’m not working on Saturday and the team will be gone, so do you want to have a girls’ day?”
“Yes, that sounds amazing. Maybe we can get in for some manicures and pedicures. I’d even splurge for a massage if I can get an appointment. I’m in desperate need for some self-care.”
“Call tomorrow and see what you can schedule. I’d be up for any and all of that,” I tell her as we hug goodbye.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” she tells me from her open window.
“Sounds good!” I reply as Beckett slides into the driver’s seat and turns on the car.
“What are you ladies planning?” he asks as he clicks his seatbelt.
“A spa d
ay when you’re gone next weekend.”
“Ah, sounds like a good way to spend a day.” He smiles at me. Once we’re out of our parking spot, he laces his hand with mine, leaving it to rest on my thigh.
Chapter Fifteen
Beckett
I watch as the puck is dropped from center ice. Our last game of the regular season. The final twenty minutes are all we have between us and the end of the regular season. We’ll know tonight who we’re playing starting next week for the first round of the playoffs. I don’t really care who it is, I’m just thankful we’re not packing up our bags after tonight’s game and going home. After the start to the season, it looked like that was how it was going to go.
I see the left winger from LA come flying down the left side. He’s got something coming to him if he thinks our defense is going to let him just slide by them without some pressure, but he looks determined to beat them and make his way to me.
I slide into position, doing my job of protecting the net at all costs. I watch as he’s cut off at the blue line and the puck is stripped from his stick by Brian. He passes it to Zander Watts, who skates it deep into the neutral zone and over LA’s blue line. Everyone gets into position as they pass the puck around, looking for the perfect opening. The puck ends up back on the tape of Watts’ stick and he one times it, sailing it over the goalie’s shoulder just as he drops down into a butterfly.
How that puck found the small opening, I’ll never know, but that is one of those goals every goalie wishes he could get back. I stand, sliding my stick along the ice in front of me, pushing the ice shavings that have built up out of my crease as I watch my teammates celebrate the goal. After they’ve left the huddle and gone to the bench for high-fives, Brian and Zander both skate my way, smacking my pads with their sticks. “Nice goal, rookie,” I call out as he skates by me.
“Thought you’d like that one,” he replies with a cocky smirk, skating back to center ice and taking his position as the refs get ready to drop the puck once again.
We play out the rest of the period, easily taking the win as we close out the regular season. As nice as it would have been to do this on home ice, I’m just glad we’re going into the postseason with a winning streak and season behind us.
“Nice game out there tonight,” Coach tells us in the locker room a short while later. “Get showered and changed and we’ll get back home. No practice tomorrow or Monday. Tuesday, we’ll hit the ground running. I want all of you rested and ready to tackle the postseason with grit and energy. We’ve got a title to defend, and if any team can do that, it’s this one. I have every bit of faith in this team as I’ve had in any of the past years’ teams. I’ve been lucky and honored to coach for this organization.”
Once Coach’s pep talk is over, we all go about our business of getting showered and dressed. A few of the guys are pulled for post-game interviews, and I’m thankful when my name isn’t called tonight.
“Good game out there tonight,” Matt says to me as I pull off my leg pads.
“Thanks, felt good out there,” I tell him, setting each pad next to me.
“Anything nagging you that we need to be aware of before next week? Do you need any extra time with the medical or therapy teams?”
“Feeling good. I think I’ll be fine with our normal routine. I don’t want to do too much and mess anything up. Don’t break what’s working, ya know.”
“I get that. Just wanted to make sure everything was good. We’re counting on you to get us through the next few weeks, possibly two months, if we’re lucky.”
“I know, and I plan to stay that way.”
“Good to hear. Get some rest and I’ll see you Tuesday morning,” he says, slapping me on the back as he stands.
I make my way into the showers alongside the rest of my teammates. Each of us has our own routine, not only how we get ready for games, but how we come down from the energy rush that comes with playing in a game. An hour or so later, I make my way onto the bus. I slip my earbuds in, turning on some music while I scroll through some missed messages from some friends back home, my sisters, and Julia.
Julia: Kick some LA ass tonight. Jill and I are nice and relaxed, and watching the game with some wine and takeout tonight.
Julia: Damn, babe, that was one hell of a save. I love it when you go down in the splits. Just reminds me how flexible you are. Makes me think very dirty thoughts.
Julia: And now I’m horny and you’re not here to do anything about it. :pouty face:
Julia: I know you won’t read any of these until long after your game (and hopefully no one is reading over your shoulder) but I won’t be opposed to you waking me up when you get home.
Julia: Your tongue on my clit would be nice.
Julia: Or anywhere, really. Dammit, I might have to take care of things to hold me over until you get home.
Julia: Nice win, babe. See you later tonight. :winky face:
It only took reading her second text for me to go hard in my slacks. And now I’ll have the visions of her getting off without me to fill my mind the entire flight back to Indy. Fuck, is she going to pay for that.
Beckett: Sötnos, you’d better be ready for me. After all those texts, I’ve got some dirty dirty ideas on how our night is going to go. You better get some rest. :devilish grin:
Julia: Hmmmm. I can’t wait. Jill just left, so I’m crawling in bed now… might need to have a little date with my vibrator to hold me over until you get back.
Beckett: Send me a picture.
Julia: Hell no. My luck, my dad would sit down next to you when it popped up on your screen. That is one line I’m not willing to cross.
Beckett: Fine. Get some rest, you’re going to need it.
Julia: Is that a promise or a threat?
Beckett: It’s whatever you want it to be.
Julia: Promise then, for sure. :winky kissy face:
Beckett: How’s this for a promise.
Beckett: My cock buried so deep inside your pussy, you won’t know where I end and you begin, your back arching off the bed, or hell, against the wall, I’m not picky. You moaning my name. Then we’ll do it all over again, and the second time, I’ll take my time worshiping your body.
Julia: I’ll be naked and waiting for you. :winky face:
Beckett: Fuck, sötnos, you’re killing me here. I was already hard from your earlier texts, now I’m going to have an imprint of my zipper on my dick for how hard I am thinking about you.
Julia: My work here is done. :devilish grin:
Beckett: You’re evil, you know that?
Julia: You know you love it.
Beckett: I love you.
Julia: Jag älskar dig.
Beckett: I love it when you talk Swedish to me.
Julia: Not as much as I love it when you do it.
Beckett: We just arrived at the plane, so I need to go. I’ll see you in a few hours. Be ready for me.
Julia: Ready, naked, and waiting. :kiss face:
Beckett: Killing me here, woman. :purple eggplant emoji:
Julia: :devilish grin: Have a good flight, babe!
I slip my phone into the inside pocket of my suit coat and grab my bag. I make my way off the bus and onto the waiting charter jet. I take my normal seat midway back, by the window, and lean the seat back as I settle in for the flight.
“Nice win tonight, boys,” Beverly, one of our normal flight attendants, calls out once we’re all seated. “Can I get any of you something to drink before takeoff?”
On flights like tonight, they’ll actually stock the plane with beers and such, while during the season it’s all coffee, sports drinks, and water, for the most part.
A few of the guys order beers as we settle into the late-night flight. “I’m good with just a bottle of water,” I tell her when she reaches my row.
“I’ll take a Shock Top,” Austin Jones says from next to me.
“How’re Reese and the baby doing?” I ask our assistant captain once Beverly moves past our row
.
“Doing great. Nicole is getting so big. She’s eight months old already, crawling all over the place. We can’t take our eyes off of her,” he says, lighting up at the talk of his daughter.
“Reese working on any new music?” I ask of his superstar wife.
“She’s been slowly writing again with her team. She’s also enjoying her time off with Nicole. She doesn’t want to rush things. Not like the woman needs to work, and I enjoy having them home when we’re in town.”
“I bet. I don’t know how you guys have made things work out as well as you have, with such demanding careers that take you all over the country and world.”
“It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But she makes it worth it. We made many sacrifices, but we both get to do what we love and have each other by our side to celebrate our highs with and someone to comfort us during our lows. Reese having the last handful of months off, or at least off from touring and commitments that can’t just be done over Skype, has been a learning curve of its own. Plus, add in being first-time parents and we’ve had some stressful moments. It’s not all puppies and rainbows. We work at our relationship just as much as we have to work at our jobs, if not more. She’s a saint for putting up with my cranky ass all season,” he says with a laugh.
The Hardest Shot: Indianapolis Eagles Series Book 7 Page 13