by June Winters
“I'm not going to show anyone. That's just for me. Something for me to look at when I'm on the road.”
I giggled. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he answered firmly.
“Yeah … but I bet your phone is filled with pictures of other naked girls.”
“Nope.” He swiped a finger through his gallery to prove it. There weren't any girls. Just pictures of him and his teammates, posing together outside of restaurants and landmarks and buildings throughout their North American travels as young athletes. “See?”
“Well. I guess I have no choice but to believe you.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“Just don't show it to your teammates or anything. Because not only would word get around, and then Madison would find out and kill me … but it'd also break my trust.”
I gave him a stern look to let him know I was serious about that. And Hunter's smile melted away, leaving a look of worry in its place.
“What's the matter?” I asked.
“I wanna ask you something.”
“Um, okay, go ahead.”
“Would you quit your job? So we wouldn't have to run around and do this in secret?”
“Hunter … I can't quit yet. I have rent and bills to pay. I need to be independent, Hunter. I don't want to rely on a guy to get by. I just came from a situation like that, where Todd paid for everything and tried to control me, and I hated it. I felt trapped the entire time.”
“I know. You want to work. You're driven. And believe me, I respect that about you. I just want you to find something else, like I said. I'll help you out with any bills until you get something new, I mean it.”
“Hunter,” I croaked—I wasn't sure what to say.
Was I crazy? Of course the answer was yes! Especially now that I actually was fucking Hunter … Madison would sniff out my guilt in a minute. But …
“I need to think it over, Hunter.” I climbed off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “I think what I really need is a shower.”
Hunter seemed hurt, but he tried not to let it show. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, good idea.”
***
When I came back from the shower, Hunter was still lying in bed.
“Well …?” he asked as I stepped into my panties and pulled them up my leg.
“Hey Hunter,” I teased, striking a sexy pose in my panties. “Take another pic. For when you're on the road.”
“Nice.” Hunter smiled and snapped a picture. “So … does that mean …?”
“It means I want to see where this goes. I can't quit my job just yet. I'm not ruling it out—because if we do get serious, Madison will be up my ass for real. But I need more time. This all happened so fast. I just want to make sure before I make any major life changes, okay?”
Hunter solemnly nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
I frowned. “You seem hurt.”
“No … it's just—ha.” He shook his head as if he were angry at himself. He stamped a fist into the mattress. “I guess I'm used to getting what I want as soon as I want it. Bad habit.”
I crawled across the bed and kissed him softly. “You're the one who said doing it in secret would only make it hotter. Remember?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
While I finished getting dressed, Hunter took a turn in the shower. We had a quiet breakfast at the hotel—conversation didn't seem to flow quite as easily anymore.
“Is everything okay?” I asked him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he stammered. “Sorry. My mind's elsewhere. I always get like this on game days.”
But I wondered if that was the truth, or just an excuse. I wondered if I might have murdered our magic so quickly and easily. Was Hunter now not interested in me because I told him I wanted to wait?
Part of me wanted to throw up my arms and plead with him—fine, Hunter, I'll quit my job! Can we please just go back to being all over each other? Because I really, really want to see where this goes …
But another part of me knew that if Hunter had gotten sick of me that easily, he never really liked me in the first place. He just liked the idea of me. Because who was I, anyway? I was the girl who actually resisted him in the beginning, which was apparently not what he was used to. And now he wanted that girl to quit her job to prove how much she'd fallen for him.
And he was the millionaire athlete who was accustomed to getting his way. Just like he'd said.
After breakfast, Hunter drove me back to my apartment. He kissed me goodbye. “See you at the game, Honor.”
Chapter 20:
Blocked
Rockwell
When I arrived at the rink for the morning pre-game skate, I was one of the last players to enter the dressing room.
“There he is!” Vinny shouted as I stepped. “Speak of the devil.”
“Mornin', boys. What's this about the devil?” I asked as I strutted to my locker stall.
Vinny piped up. “We were just talking about you and that new ice girl Honor.”
I stopped in my tracks and shot him a serious look. “What about her …?”
“Jesus,” Vinny's shoulders shook with laughter, and he slapped the chest of the guy sitting next to him. “Look at how stiff he gets when someone just mentions her name.”
My mind sprinted through an endless number of ways we could've been busted. Had someone seen us eating dinner? Did someone follow us back to our hotel? What could it be?
“Seriously, what about her?” I asked.
“Uhh?” Vinny raised a palm into the air. “Does yesterday ring a bell, captain? The commercial shoot? You and the ice girl's hot and steamy on-camera chemistry?”
I let out a heavy sigh of relief. Jesus, I'm a wreck.
“I forgot that was yesterday,” I mumbled. “Seems so long ago now. Almost forgot about it.”
“Yeah, right!” Iggy shouted with a laugh. “I bet you were jerkin' off to her all night.”
“You should've kissed her, you realize that, right?” Vinny cackled. “She was like, so ready for you. So DTF.”
If you guys only knew.
Iggy cut in again. “Forget about their kiss scene—let's just talk about that girl's puck skills. I mean, I wasn't expecting much, but she could actually shoot the puck a little! I really think Leif was trying to stop her and he couldn't!”
“Bullshit,” Leif, our Russian goalie, growled in his thick and broken accent. “I did not try make save! Directions very clear: do not make save.”
Iggy went right back to Honor. “So, you guys think she played in high school or what?”
I listened as the debate went around the room, everyone chiming in with their own theory about what level of hockey Honor played.
“What do you think, Rockwell?” Vinny asked after everyone had weighed in.
I answered as I calmly tied my skate laces. “She's from Minnesota and her older brothers played hockey. She played with them growing up, that's all.”
My bit of information went over like a bad joke: a bunch of wet and blinking eyeballs staring back at me.
“How'd you know that, Rockwell?”
I shrugged. “She uh, she told me once.”
“Yeah, but when—”
“Hell, I don't fuckin' know,” I snapped. “Honestly, I just want to focus on tonight's game, boys. Must-win against Boston. We win this, we're in the playoffs.”
“Jeez. Captain Fun over here,” Vinny mumbled.
When we left the dressing room the for ice, Madison was walking through the hall. She acted surprised to see us.
“Oh, hi boys! How are you?”
She stood and watched us as we marched out to the ice.
***
We took our hour skate around the rink. Normally, heading into a game against Boston, Boston was all I could think about. My old teammates. Cunningham. My ex Vanessa—all that heavy history. I wanted revenge against all of them.
Today, though, my mind was pretty much everywhere but the game. I felt pretty goddamn awful.
I
'd wanted to ask Honor to be my girlfriend. Was it soon? Yeah. But after listening to that TV show last night, I feared the worst. If we lost this game against Boston? From the sounds of it, Colorado wasn't interested in offering me a new contract.
And what then? Would Honor really move with me to wherever the hell I was heading? What if I got sent to someplace like Edmonton? She thought the winters in Minnesota were bad … ha.
But she wasn't even willing to quit her job for me. What did that say?
I wasn't sure.
Then again. I chickened out. I hadn't asked her to be my girlfriend. I'd asked her to quit her job for me.
Which wasn't really the same thing. At all. And no wonder she turned me down.
Sigh.
My body felt heavy and worthless as I lugged around the ice with my teammates. I knew I wasn't going to have it tonight if I didn't get it together.
And that meant asking Honor to be my girlfriend.
As soon as we're done here, I'll call her and ask, I said to myself.
And, what do you know. Suddenly, my body wasn't so tired and useless.
***
After the morning skate, we left the ice and headed for the dressing room. I made a bee-line to my stall and called Honor's phone.
But instead of her voice, or her voicemail, I heard an automated message. “Sorry, but the number you're trying to reach has been blocked by the account holder.”
I clenched my fists. What the hell?
Why?
No message, no explanation, nothing. Just blocked.
I knew I shouldn't have been surprised. Women always let me down in the end.
I grabbed my shit and stormed out of the dressing room.
Fuck it.
Chapter 21:
Cursed
Honor
Hours later.
I arrived at the rink an hour before the game—and, believe me, it took all my will-power to actually show up here and not, oh, say, run back home to Minnesota with my tail between my legs.
Because, yeah, after texting with Hunter all afternoon, I could officially admit it now: I've been played. Hunter was just an asshole all along, only interested in trying to get some ass.
But I was a person who needed this job, or something, and it would look hypocritical and weak if I quit my job now, because it didn't work out with Hunter the prick.
It all started when I texted him late that morning. “I had so much fun last night, Hunter. Thank you for an amazing night.”
His reply? “Lol.”
And, yes, laugh-out-loud seemed like an odd reaction. But I tried to not dwell on it—because, so often in text messages, one's true meaning gets lost.
But then Hunter continued. “I didn't.”
“Didn't what?” I asked him, and now I knew something was wrong.
“DIDN'T HAVE FUN. Duh. Use your brain......”
I gasped, heart racing, and fired back: “What's wrong with you?”
“You're soooo annoying omg. I can't do it anymore Honor. I just wanted to get laid all along. Understand?? Great, thx, leave me alone now. Blocking your number! Bye forever.”
My jaw almost hit the floor.
Un. Fucking. Believable.
His whole attitude and everything changed the minute he got what he wanted.
“You wanna block my number? You wanna block my number?” I shouted aloud in my bedroom—and I blocked his number first, before he could block mine. Two can play that stupid, childish game.
Cora was right about these guys, absolutely right, and now I was kicking myself for not listening to her warning. Professional athletes? They were nothing more than dogs. As soon as I gave myself to Hunter, he lost interest, and was surely moving on to the next piece of ass.
And now, worst of all, I had to see him on the ice, while I acted like I was totally so pumped and psyched to be there, and just oh so happy to be a smiling ice girl, bending over and shoveling snow, while thousands of people eyeballed me in my skimpy little outfit.
Aaaack.
***
I was happy not to see Rockwell on my way through the arena. I threw the girls' dressing room door open and stormed in.
Whatever gossip the girls were all giggling about suddenly went quiet. They kept their eyes glued on me as I went for my stall. Their twinkling eyes were very amused about something, but I wasn't about to take the bait and ask.
I reached my stall and opened the locker. But instead of an ice girl's outfit dangling from the hanger, I was greeted by a men's Blizzard jersey. The rest of the locker was stuffed with shoulder pads and gloves and other hockey equipment.
Stifled laughter all around me.
I turned around slowly. “Okay. Where's my outfit?”
“It's right there, silly,” Madison answered.
I pulled the jersey from the hanger and held it up. The thing was enormous; the bottom hem nearly reached my knees. There was no way they wanted us to skate out there wearing those.
I turned the jersey around. The nameplate on the back read Rockwell. I glanced up and caught Madison's eye.
“I thought after your brilliant hockey performance in the commercial yesterday, you might feel more comfortable dressed in full hockey gear? Hell, maybe the team will let you play a shift … since you're sooo great at hockey …”
Madison cackled, and the girls followed her lead.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Ha-ha. Honestly, Madison, I'm not really in the mood. Where's my outfit?”
Madison scowled. “You won't need it, sweetheart.”
“Excuse me?”
“Didn't you see?” She rose from the bench and neared me with her phone in hand. “Hunter blasted your guys' pictures all over the internet.”
She handed me her phone. Her browser was loaded on a page called “GutterSports: The One Night Stand for Sports and Gossip.”
I reared back, heat rushing into my cheeks. “The hell?”
“Mm-hm. See?” Madison scrolled the page down.
The headline read: “SCORE for Hunter Rockwell: Steamy leaked pix of the foxy ice babe he's currently screwing!”
She scrolled lower. And what I saw stole my breath away.
The first picture he took this morning. The one where we both look so stupidly happy, our faces dewy with post-sex glow, 'underboob' spilling out from beneath my hands. And now I hated his smile—because I knew it was so obviously a fake smile. Or maybe he smiled because he was thinking about how he was going to betray me in a few short hours.
And I hated my smile even more. Because, ugh, my shameless optimism and naivete were on display for all. I'd fallen for it! Everyone warned me all along what would happen and I didn't believe them. I really thought I'd be the rare case. That I could turn Hunter from a bad boy into a gentleman. You could see it plain as day. What a fool I was.
And the second picture. Oh god the second picture. Me in nothing but my panties, arching my back and pushing my ass out—which was totally on display thanks to my thong.
Welp.
Madison had done it.
She'd finally found the evidence she needed.
“Remember what I told you when I hired you, sweetheart?” Madison asked, shaking her head at me with fake pity. “I told you the players aren't in it for love. And I told you I'd find out.” She let out a fake sigh. “Unfortunately, since you've been caught fraternizing with a player, we can't have you out on the ice tonight. You're suspended indefinitely, pending an official review with the department of Fan Relations. But don't get your hopes up, dear, because that's just for formality's sake. You will be fired.”
I didn't say anything. I was too stunned to move, speak, or cry … thankfully.
But when my legs finally obeyed, I ran for the door. Cora was just arriving when I threw the door open. I couldn't bear to face her, either.
“Hey, rooki—hey!” she shouted as I pushed past her. “What's the matter, Honor?”
That's it, I'm done with all this. Fuck this, fuck Hunter, fuck Denver. T
his place is cursed and I'm going home.
Chapter 22:
Gossip
Rockwell
“Come on boys! Get your heads in the game!” Coach yelled during a timeout.
Good advice. Because with five minutes left in the first period, we were trailing 1-0, and playing like we were already mentally defeated. Cunningham, that fucking rat, scored the game's only goal.
And I had my lion's share of the blame, because my head was not in this game either. The ice girls were out for the third time already, and still I didn't see Honor among them.
Where the hell was she? And what happened between us? Did I piss her off today? I didn't understand.
Madison skated by with her crew. She winked at me, smiling way too big for my liking, and greeted me in her overly cheery, sing-song voice. “Hiiiiiiii, Hunter!”
My eyes narrowed at her as she skated by. The hell did you do, Madison?
I watched as she circled around the rink. On the far end, Cunningham glided next to her. She said something to him, and he followed her.
What the fuck …? Why is she talking to him?
When the break ended and the girls left the ice, us players hopped over the bench.
I lined up on the faceoff against Cunningham.
“Sorry I pissed you off last time with that country song, Rocky,” he said. “Funny, you know? I wasn't even thinking of Vanessa. But now I see how that might have set you off. ”
I didn't even look at him. “Sure thing, bud.”
“Really!”
The ref threw the puck down. Cunningham tied my stick up and I lost the draw. The Bears went on the attack and I had to skate back into the zone to catch up on defense.
Cunningham, with his stick hooked around my torso, dragged behind me like a parachute. I shouted at the ref as I chugged up ice, tugging Cunningham's sorry corpse like a freight train.
“You wanna call this ref? Fucker's water-skiing behind me!”
The ref glanced at us and gave a careless shrug.
Oh, goddamn these refs, they're swallowing their whistles again.