by RJ Scott
“No, it doesn’t, and fuck you for even bringing that up,” Ryan said, confident Loki was lying.
Loki huffed. He didn’t look like he regretted what he’d tried. “Then it’s your responsibility as my best friend to back me up.”
Loki sat back in his seat triumphantly, and for a moment, Ryan thought that maybe, just maybe, no one behind them would have heard that. His luck was out; the chirping started.
“Aww, Loki, I thought I was your best friend,” a voice called from behind them.
Ryan didn’t even bother to identify who it was; he just knew the chirping would get worse as they watched all the prospects in a huddle being talked at by Coach Barton.
“Nah, I am,” Simba pointed out. “We braid each other’s hair all the time.”
“Yeah, Flynn, Loki’s your best frieeeend,” some other voice tagged on in a frustratingly bad singsong voice.
Sounded like one of the twins again.
“Bunk buddies,” someone else added.
“I hear they share toothbrushes and everything.”
“I bet they cuddle on the couch.”
Yep, that was the other twin. Or maybe the same one.
In perfect sync, Ryan and Loki both gave the guys behind them the finger.
“Fuck you all,” Ryan snapped, but without heat.
Loki nudged his arm again. “This would mean a lot to Kat. It’s for my charity, and I really want her to focus on that and get her away from being out in that damn ambulance.”
“She loves her job, man, and you getting her away from it is not going to work, and you know it.”
“I can try,” Loki said under his breath. “Look, I meant to organize all of this ages ago, but then….” He tapped his knee. “I need a few Ice Dragons at the event, other than me, anyway. I’ll be there, but if you came too, as well as Simba….”
Ryan shook his head. “No.”
This wasn’t about avoiding Kat, or recalling the kiss, or the way she’d felt in his arms as he carried her that night, or even about his heart near splintering at the idea she’d been hurt. This was about how he could hurt her if he went anywhere near her.
Avoiding her was nothing to do with the way Kat’s charm, innocence, and goddamn smiles got him harder than the threesome in Vegas in ’09.
She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s my best friend’s sister.
“No,” he said, just so there was no misunderstanding.
“Okay,” Loki sat back in his chair. “But that sucks, dude,” he added under his breath. “She was counting on you. Getting the great Ryan Flynn, hard man and eligible bachelor, in a suit would sell more tickets and raise way more money for the charity. You know it’s a kids’ cancer charity, right?”
“Charity is cool,” Simba chirped. “You should do it, Flynn.”
“I know what your freaking charity is,” Ryan cursed. “And fuck you, Simba. Again.”
Down on the ice, the groups moved apart, one half wearing Dragon scarlet home jerseys, the other in the white away colors.
Time to concentrate on hockey.
It seemed like the whole matter was forgotten as they watched the boys down below who had the potential to one day take their spots. There was some good skating, one center in particular stood out, but he was no threat to Ryan’s spot as a defender. Still, the guy was fast, with a deadly accurate forecheck and a wicked backhand. He shot with strength, running rings around some of the defending pairs he was put against, the fastest Ryan had seen in a while. The Dragons needed speed. The kid seemed to gravitate from center to left wing. Versatile and fast, he would be a good addition to the team. Ryan made a mental note of his name: Jacobs.
“Your starts are in danger.” He couldn’t resist teasing Loki and elbowed him.
“Fuck you,” Loki said, “we all know I’m safe for next year.”
He was cocky and slightly arrogant, but that was being a hockey player; every man watching the new guys coming up had to be convinced that they were making the roster for the team heading into the new season, or else they’d end up fucking it up for themselves. Self-doubt was never an option. They worked hard—harder even than the new kids—knowing that sitting back wasn’t going to work at getting them on the roster.
Anyway, Loki had made more goals and assists last season, enough to impress in his fifth full year with the Dragons, and they’d negotiated a sweet contract to keep him here for the next four years at a vastly increased rate. Of course, there could have been more points had he finished the season, but they would never know. He was a flashy left wing on a team that was becoming established and settled, and he was a starting forward for sure, leading the second line behind Simba.
Ryan, two years through a three-year contract, had gotten the nod that he was on the roster for next season, but who knew what might change in the next few weeks. They wanted him to work on conditioning, and he’d spent intensive weeks working on getting stronger and faster. His ankle and hip mobility was just as fucked as everyone else on the team; last season had been grueling and physical. Ryan had worked on balance; his vertical jump tests were better than average. He’d pulled sleds, worked on the lower-body force he needed to increase velocity.
His MP tests were better than average too. Not only that but he had every other day there through the summer, with a program to back up the work should he actually get anywhere near taking that vacation.
You need to be quicker out of the corner. That was all Coach had said, his only criticism, apart from the normal “keep a lid on your temper” stuff.
You need to keep up with the forwards trying to forecheck you, get in front of them… you’re the last defense before Drago in the net.
But they had said he would be a starting D. They were happy with him.
Even with the fact he’d fucked up letting Rafferty anywhere near to hurting Loki.
Unsettled, he moved in his chair, taking off his cap, running a hand through his hair before replacing the hat. Just this repetitive motion was enough to calm him down. Loki had his contract renewed even with the injury; hell, he was tied to the Dragons with a no-move clause until 2021. They loved him. He was good. Better than good—he was a star.
I don’t begrudge Loki’s huge contract or his points. I’m well, I’m here, and I’m good. Plenty good enough to make the roster.
He repeated that over and over. He was fit, healthy, and determined. The Dragons wouldn’t have tied him to a three-year contract just to have him sitting the last year of it out.
Because he might not be flashy, but he was good, an enforcer with purpose.
“…So, you agree? Wanna bet he’ll go top left,” Loki said.
Ryan had only caught the end of it. “You’re betting he goes top left?” he repeated what he imagined Loki had said, pretended he’d been listening all along. “I’ll take that.”
Jacobs, with the number twelve on his back, circled to the center ice to take his turn against the goalie. He was a left-hand shot—just what they needed for strength in the second line—and telegraphed right. A couple of times he’d made the five hole: pretty impressive against the Dragons’ backup goalie.
He’d not gone top left yet, seemed to be aiming for the showy moves so he’d get noticed. In Ryan’s mind, this was easy money. Predictability was the hockey player’s downfall, and it seemed like this prospect hadn’t got that memo.
They watched Jacobs wind up and skate toward the goal. He went right, and so did the goalie, and then, with an impressive spin-o-rama, he went left and got the puck right over the goalie’s shoulder and into the top-left corner.
Ryan sat back in his seat, aware he’d moved up and forward to watch the Jacobs kid. Then he rooted for his wallet; that shot was worth a dollar. Hell, that likely meant the Dragons would pull him from the minors and offer him a roster shot. He had absolute control, utter focus, and he made it look easy.
Loki waved the dollar away. “You can’t get out of it that easy. We didn’t bet for a dollar.”
> “What?” Ryan was confused. They always bet a dollar on stupid things like who stank the most after a match, right up to points in a rival’s game. Always one dollar.
“Nope,” Simba leaned down from behind them, his long blond hair around his face, “you made a bet on attending the charity night. I’m a witness.”
Ryan goldfished for a good few seconds; he’d been played. “Hang on a fucking minute. I never heard that part.”
“Whatever.” Loki near smirked at him. “You lost, you pay up.”
“A dollar.”
“Nope. One charity night for cancer awareness.”
“I’ll make a donation.”
“Of your time,” Loki said.
“A big donation.” All Ryan could think of was the beaches and the chilling and the getting his head out of his ass. Loki wasn’t buying any of his bull.
Loki shrugged. “I’ll be there. It’ll be a blast.”
Yeah, right. People all around him, wanting to touch, wanting a piece of him.
Kat.
“I hate you,” he snapped.
“Yeah, yeah, Flynn. Get your suit cleaned—you’re up Saturday.”
CHAPTER 7
Kat rechecked the message from Nicky. As usual, her brother was vague.
Count me in for five.
That was all the text said. No names. A total of five Ice Dragon hockey players, including her brother, of course, would be attending tonight’s event.
Carefully she placed the cell on the side of the sink and went back to finishing her makeup. She’d assumed he hadn’t managed to swing it that he’d be bringing anyone else, even though she’d implied he would to many of the ticket buyers. Well, not so much implied, but people expected her to be able to conjure up big names on the strength of what her brother did for a living.
And now the nonspecific text arrived. Typical Nicky.
Likely Simba would be there. As captain, he wore the Dragon’s C and took it seriously. Simba was very responsible, and she knew he was in town because she remembered him saying he was working on conditioning this summer at the Sweetings complex before heading home to Vancouver for a summer school he taught. That was what she was good at, recalling small details, listing things in her head, like names and events, and bringing them to the front of her mind when she needed them. It served her well in her job. She was quick and efficient, good at what she did when she was out in the field helping to save lives and she loved working with Nicky for this charity event.
So, apart from her brother and likely Simba, that left three other Dragons. She really wanted to text Nicky back and ask who the other three were.
Because what if one of them was Ryan?
Didn’t matter that her freaky brain remembered he was on vacation in Oahu, she held a small kernel of hope that circumstances had changed and maybe she’d see him tonight. At the same time, she dreaded the idea—shame washed over her when she recalled what she’d made him do.
Who the hell asks a man to kiss them?
And not just any man. Who asks their brother’s best friend to kiss them?
She concentrated on the color she was applying on her eyes, a pale smoky gray in the corners, and refused to even let hope curl inside her next to the dread. She’d find out soon enough when the men turned up in about ten minutes. She could wait.
No, I need to know who it is. She wasn’t walking out into the event completely unprepared. Then, with a huff of annoyance at herself, she sent a quick text back to Nicky.
Thanks xx who?
Because really, she needed to know. Just in case.
She was already nervous enough about this event, not only because a lot of her friends from the hospital would be there tonight, as well as a few of the firefighters from her station, watching what she was doing and judging her for the quality of the event and the number of hockey players she could bring in. Particularly if Loki, and Simba, and hell, Ryan—the three guys who were the face of the Dragons franchise—turned up.
Then it hit her.
What if the plus-four Nicky was bringing weren’t fellow hockey players but four of his bunnies? The ones who fawned all over him and were desperate for a taste of a professional athlete. Nicky had his share of women, and he wasn’t afraid for people to know.
Kat shuddered, not only at the thought of the girls themselves, but of anyone having sex with her idiot of a big brother.
She was just finishing the first sweep of mascara when her cell chimed. She glanced at the message after a momentary hesitation, not sure she wanted to see that Mindy, Mandy, Chloe, and Bella, or whoever, were coming with him. Didn’t matter that Nicky would pay for all five to attend; she didn’t want them there.
But Nicky’s text was simple.
The twins, Simba, Ryan xx
The James twins from the team, she assumed, and not some random twins pickup he’d had. Everyone loved the James twins, and Simba, the face of the team.
Her initial relief was pushed aside when she reread Ryan’s name.
“You okay in there?” Ally called from outside.
Her friend had really pulled out all the stops tonight. It turned out she could marshal an event with the best of them, and she’d even got a little excited about seeing a few hockey players, although she still had her reservations.
Thank God that having hockey players here other than my brother is actually true. “Two minutes,” she called back.
“Make it quick, ten to show.”
Which was why she was in here touching up makeup and checking her dress one more time. The scarlet was a good color for her, and the soft material draped nicely, although her chest was always difficult, being just that little bit out of proportion with the rest of her figure. The dress didn’t dip low at the front or back, but the skirt was short and covered in gauzy material that fell past her knees. She’d left her hair down, simply held back with two scarlet clips that looked good against the dark length of her curls. A slick of scarlet on her lips, a shake of her hair, and she was ready.
She slipped her purse into the locker and entered a combination she would remember. And then she had no more excuses. Shoulders back, she exited the bathrooms and made her way to the ballroom of the hotel. This was her baby; the ideas were in here from when her and Nicky first talked about this: a glamor night for the rich and famous, to encourage them to part with money for charity. It wasn’t the most innovative idea, but people loved to dress up, spend their money, and be seen doing it. Nicky was the name of the charity, the big draw, but Kat had made it happen.
She nodded at Ally over by the door and sent her a broad smile of encouragement. Between them they greeted each guest as they arrived, explained that the drinks were in the lobby, and to go on into the ballroom for now, and dinner was at eight thirty.
Kat made her way through everyone, talking about the charity, taking the time to listen to the guests, many of whom had personal stories involving cancer. Telling each of them which hockey players would be there tonight and checking her watch discreetly as seven thirty became eight and there was still no sign of a single member of the Dragons ice hockey team. Not that the crowd was getting restless; wine always helped.
“Hey, sis.”
Arms surrounded her from behind and she sank into the hold before turning to face her grinning sibling.
“Told him we’d be late,” Cody James said from the side. “No one listens to me about the traffic out there.”
She slipped out of Nicky’s hold and hugged Cody, the more serious of the twins. “Hey, Cody.”
He squeezed her a little; these damn skaters didn’t know their own strength. And then it was Connor’s turn. He squeezed her just as hard.
“How the hell do you know which twin is which?” Simba asked as he too went in for a hug.
She looked up at the big man and raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you still can’t?”
“To be fair, you’re one of the only people who can,” Cody admitted. He was in a dark blue suit with a
sapphire tie, his twin in a pale gray suit and silver tie. But it wasn’t what they wore—it was their eyes. Connor’s held a little more sapphire than Cody’s, and his hair was a slightly darker blond in places. Cody always looked thoughtful, whereas Connor was always smiling. She looked past Simba.
“Where’s Ryan?” She asked as if it didn’t matter at all.
“He’s in the bar,” Nicky leaned heavily on his crutches. He was in a dark suit as well, but he looked tired.
“Maybe you should sit down.” She touched his arm, all thoughts of Ryan being in the same building gone when Nicky needed her.
“It’s only a torn ligament,” Simba chirped. “He just needs to walk it off.”
“Asshole,” Nicky said, but he smirked.
And then there was no time for any more talking because people had noticed the arrival of four very big men, and the buzz began. Connor and Simba went straight out there to their adoring public. Cody was a little more reticent, but only when they left did Nicky lean in to her.
“I’m not drinking,” he said.
“Of course not. The meds.”
“So, yeah, you know I’m going to be very boring.”
“Aww,” Kat began. She noticed Nicky’s expression change; evidently he was looking for sympathy. “Suck it up, and go raise some money.”
“You’re a hard-nosed—”
“I will knock your crutches from under you,” she warned.
Grumbling under his breath about sisters who needed to have more sympathy, Nicky crutched away and was instantly lost in a group of people eager for a piece of him.
Connor seemed fine; Cody was in a one-on-one with a surgeon from St Mary’s, and Simba had a huge group of women hanging off his every word.
They were doing their jobs here tonight, raising money by using their celebrity.
Which just left Ryan.
He likely hadn’t wanted to come tonight; after all he hated every one of the team events where he was on display. She caught Ally’s eye and inclined her head to the bar.
Ally held up a single digit and then rounded her fingers into a zero. Ten minutes until speeches.