For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1)

by Jenny Redford

  She recognized the shoulder patch on a blue jersey hanging in his closet, obviously a remnant of his minor league hockey stint in Lansing. Charlotte figured he wouldn't mind. He seemed to enjoy when she wore his jerseys. Although this time, she would have to find something to wear underneath. Jordan shared the house with his brother, and she didn't think he would be particularly pleased if she walked into the kitchen like that with Ethan sitting there eating breakfast. Luckily, he left a pair of workout pants with the Pirates logo within reach.

  Padding down the stairs in her bare feet, she smiled when she saw the empty mug on his counter waiting for her.

  "Morning," she said, pouring herself a warm cup and scooping a spoonful of sugar into it.

  "Hello and goodbye," Ethan said as he put his coffee mug in the sink before offering his hand to Charlotte. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

  "You're not going to stay and eat with us?"

  Ethan looked over wearily at his brother, who was sitting at the kitchen table with his eyes staring at his phone. "I don't think that one is good company right now."

  He gave her a warm smile before grabbing a messenger bag from the counter and heading out the door.

  Jordan, however, couldn't even be bothered to say anything. Ethan had been right. Something was definitely up with him. Charlotte was expecting a warm smile and a husky response from Jordan's half-awake voice. Today, the only response she got was a ding from Jordan's phone, letting him know he had a text message. And then another ding. And another. He quickly typed up a response in return and tossed it unceremoniously on the table.

  Charlotte walked over and gently placed her hand on his shoulder, making him jump in surprise. "Hey," he said with a weak smile. Then he blatantly let his eyes wander down her body before his phone bleated at him again.

  "You OK?"

  "Yeah." Jordan scowled as he checked his phone again while nervously tapping his pen on the almost empty crossword puzzle in front of him.

  Charlotte put her hand on his knee, stopping his leg from the jittery jackhammer moves it was making. "Jordan?"

  He looked up at her with his tired blue eyes and gave her a weak smile. "Sorry. The trade deadline is today and I'm a little distracted."

  She pulled her hand back and grabbed her coffee to take a sip. "How much of the crossword have you finished?"

  "I got three answers so far."

  "How long have you been up?"

  Jordan gave her a sheepish look. "An hour."

  "I would say that's more than a little distracted," she said with a teasing smile just as his phone buzzed again.

  He checked it, typed out something with a little bit more force than usual, and threw it back down again.

  She gave him a worried look over the rim of her coffee cup. "So what are the texts about?"

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Some guys are worried they're going to get traded. Others are freaking out about who we'll face with players switching teams. Then what are our chances of winning the championship if this team gets the defenseman they need or that team gets the goalie we hate. Then it starts all over again." His phone buzzed again and he ran his hand over his face in frustration. "I didn't have to worry about this when I wasn't the captain."

  Charlotte put her hand over his for a brief moment. "Just take a breath for a second and drink some coffee. The phone will still be there."

  He did as he was told, and she could immediately see the calming effect the drink had on him — until his phone buzzed again.

  "Sorry, Charlotte."

  He ducked his head and reached for it, frantically reading and typing and reading and typing.

  "Is there something I can do for you?"

  "More coffee," he said, sticking his empty mug out without looking up at her. "And did Ethan leave any bagels? I didn't have a chance to check yet."

  "Let me see what I can do for you."

  Charlotte was more than happy to wait on him like a domestic goddess, if only to show in some small way that she was there if he needed anything. She had never seen him like this. He was so laid back and cool and in control. He always had a way around her. Well, many ways around her if she was being honest. It didn't take much to make him happy, and Charlotte was learning exactly how to do that.

  She turned back to see him picking up his phone, a scowl clearly visible on his face. "Dammit."

  "What happened now?"

  "You remember me telling you about that idiot on L.A.'s team? Declan Reed?"

  She almost dropped the coffee mug in her hand. "Um, sure?" She thanked whatever hockey god existed that he was too distracted to notice her freaking out. Please don't say he's coming here, she thought.

  "He just got traded back to New York." Jordan threw his phone down on the table in disgust as Charlotte breathed a small sigh of relief. "I thought we wouldn't have to deal with that jerk again this season, and now we have to face him in two days."

  He stood up quickly from the table, his chair falling behind him as he walked over to the window to try and calm himself down. His hands went through his hair in a way that would normally turn Charlotte on but today just made her more concerned. If this is how Jordan was acting about having to play against the guy again, she was worried about how he would react if he ever found out that she once dated Declan. Hell, she had slept with Declan! And while she hadn't had a conversation with Jordan about their past when it came to sex, it would come up at some point.

  Charlotte pulled herself out of her thoughts to see Jordan staring at her, his hands on his hips in frustration. Then his face softened and he looked like a sheepish whiny puppy. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I'm good company right now."

  "It's OK."

  He walked over, his features becoming more fiery as he got closer and closer before snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss. "Have I mentioned how lucky I am to have you?"

  "Maybe," she replied, a smile teasing her lips.

  "You raided my closet for that jersey, didn't you?" he murmured softly.

  She put her coffee on the counter, freeing her hand to run it through his thick dark hair. "Maybe."

  His moan of approval vibrated against her skin just as his cell phone buzzed on the kitchen table.

  Jordan groaned in frustration, his hands quickly squeezing her hips before they slid off her body. "This is just not my morning."

  He tried to walk away, but Charlotte wouldn't let go, pulling him back towards her. "Perhaps you should change that for a few minutes."

  Jordan's eyes darkened with desire and he leaned in, willingly taking her invitation. His lips began to trace a line from her neck down to her collarbone as he deftly pushed the jersey off her shoulder to get better access to her skin. The sound of the phone vibrating on the table caused him to moan against her skin, but he continued to stay where he was.

  His hands found their way past the waistband of the pants she had stolen to find she wasn't wearing anything underneath them either. She moaned quietly in his ear before pulling his face to hers and kissing him again. His hands continued their journey with one gently grabbing her breast as the other went lower and lower.

  "Right there," she gasped as his fingers found exactly where she wanted them to be between her legs. He let out a soft groan as he began to tenderly work on her, her breath shallow and her heart rate speeding as she clutched his arms to try and control herself.

  She could hear the phone on the kitchen table buzz again, feeling Jordan's hands pause as a groan of frustration escaped his lips. She gripped his arms tighter, wordlessly begging him not to stop, to finish this, to finish her. Dammit, she needed him to finish this first.

  He moaned approvingly at her obvious want, his hands once again moving the way she needed them.

  "Come on, Charlie," he murmured in her ear.

  She took a deep breath, pushing down the heat coiling inside her. "Not yet."

  A sneer teased his lips against her skin, his hand still moving as sh
e closed her eyes and threw her head back, her fingers tugging hard on his t-shirt while she tried to gain some control without much luck. He groaned, nipping at the bare skin on her collarbone as his hand sped up, the friction causing heat to build inside of her.

  "Let go, Charlotte."

  She couldn't stop herself anymore as the desperate growl in his demanding voice finally sent her over the edge, her body shattering under his touch, and she instinctively wrapped her hands around his neck to give her weak legs support as the waves of pleasure wracked her body. She could feel his hands gently slide away from her body before his arm snaked around her waist to give her some support.

  "You OK?" he whispered tentatively.

  Charlotte simply nodded, too wrecked to speak as she tried to catch her breath.

  Jordan pulled away and looked at her in a way that was more reverent than wanting, his blue eyes taking her in. She couldn't help herself as her hands began to roam lower down his body. After what he had done to her, she figured he deserved a little payback, and she would be more than happy to give it to him. But just as her hands reached the waistband of his sweatpants, his phone buzzing again. And again. And then again.

  "Fuck," Jordan groaned. "Today is not my day."

  "Go answer your phone," she told him reassuringly. "I'll pay you back after the trade deadline."

  "Promise?" he asked with goofy grin.

  She just gave him a peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed what she had expected to see: she looked utterly wrecked. And that was even after he had been distracted by the torrent of text messages. He was that good.

  Back in the kitchen, Jordan was standing by the table, typing away again on his phone. His lips quietly mouthed his response on the keypad, which Charlotte found adorable, while the phone still beeped as he tried to answer all the incoming texts. He finally gave up and unceremoniously dropped it on table, rolling his eyes and staring up at the ceiling, his hands on his hips.

  "Charlotte, you have no idea how much I wish I could take you back to my bed right now."

  "I can make a pretty good guess."

  The phone dinged again and he broke out of his trance to give it a death glare as if he had committed some heinous crime against him, which, to be fair, it kind of did.

  Charlotte walked over to him, her hand slipping into his and holding on to reassure him. "Believe me, I would like nothing better than to pay you back for what you just did to me, but would you rather be down at the arena dealing with all of this?"

  Jordan gave her a genuine smile, which was surprising considering the circumstances. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Charlotte."

  "I hope that's a good thing."

  He planted a passionate kiss on lips. "It's a very good thing," he said, his voice husky and raw.

  The look on his face made her forget the world, forget everything around them, and just made her want to forget the damn bedroom and have her way with him right there on the kitchen table.

  Then his cell phone rang. Seriously, when this day was over, she was going to take a sledgehammer to that nefarious device. Jordan dropped his head, resting his forehead on hers and giving her a sheepish smile.

  She pulled away and lightly tapped his shoulder. "Let's get you to work," she said. "You're not going to be of any use to me here."

  He gently kissed her again and then answered the call, his head hanging low as he mumbled into the phone and headed upstairs.

  Charlotte found bagels for them, slathered on some cream cheese and wrapped them in paper towels. She grabbed his untouched coffee and found a travel mug in the cupboard to pour it into for him.

  But with him upstairs with his phone, she suddenly realized how quiet it was. Too quiet. Quiet enough that the thoughts his hands had distracted her from earlier were starting to push their way back. How was she ever going to tell Jordan about her past relationship with Declan? She definitely figured that now would be the worst time for that. He didn't need the distraction, especially not when he hated Declan already and was dreading the fact that he would have to face him in New York.

  Ugh, New York. She was headed there this afternoon on a flight home to see her parents. Jordan was going to have to face off against Declan at Madison Square Garden, and she was going to be there. Charlotte had never really worried about any kind of gossip making its way through this city about them, but it was Detroit and far away from Page Six in the New York Post.

  Jordan's footsteps distracted her from freaking out any further. "You ready to go, Charlie?"

  "I would prefer to leave the house with some clothes on." He handed over her jeans and nothing else. "I think you're missing a few things here."

  "You can get the rest of your things when you return my jersey," he teased.

  "That's fine. I can just buy another gray t-shirt."

  His eyes narrowed. "You do realize there's also a black lace—" He strung several swear words together as he was interrupted by his phone.

  "How about I just answer your messages for you as you drive me home?" Charlotte said, taking the phone from his hand and replacing it with his travel mug.

  "What's this?"

  "Your coffee," she explained. "I have your bagel wrapped up and ready to go too."

  A smile spread across his face. "You really are amazing," he said, pulling her in to plant a passionate kiss on her lips. And then his phone, now in Charlotte's hands, beeped again. "Get your things, Charlie. It's time to go to work."

  Jordan was practically on autopilot as he drove from his place back to the city, distracted by two things in his car. The first was his beeping phone that didn't know when to shut the hell up. The second was Charlotte Stone.

  "OK, so Logan wants to know if you can talk to management about getting another defenseman."

  He sighed. "I don't make the trades, and I don't know if I would do that even if I could because I don't want any of our guys leaving for another team."

  "That's a bit sentimental, don't you think?"

  He grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and took a sip, thankful that Charlotte had found the travel mug. "Not sentimental."

  "Really?"

  "It's a little sentimental," he replied. "But in my defense, I am the captain so I am my players' biggest cheerleader." He heard her laugh from the passenger seat. "What?"

  "Sorry, just imagined you in a cheerleader skirt with pom poms and pigtails."

  "Not gonna happen," he replied seriously. "What else do you have there?"

  "Draft picks for draft picks."

  "Don't care."

  "The captain of the Denver Mountaineers won't waive his no-trade clause to go to Manitoba."

  Jordan shook his head. "He should've taken that move."

  "Um, some guy named Andy wants to know if your groin is feeling better." He turned to see Charlotte giving him a look that was part surprise and definitely a bit awkward.

  "Andy is our team trainer. Tell him I'm fine and he needs to wait until after the trade deadline to bug me about it." Charlotte started typing, her brow looking a little furrowed. "I know you want to say something, Charlie."

  She paused and looked up at him. "I mean, after last night, I just... I didn't make things worse for you, did I?"

  Really? It was another amazing night with her, and he definitely had nothing to complain about. But she genuinely seemed worried. Jordan would have to tell her some other time that he found it endearing.

  "Don't worry. I can handle you," he replied with a smirk.

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek as he stopped at the red light off the freeway. "I just wouldn't want you to get hurt because of me."

  The phone in her hand beeped again and she looked down at the screen, the teasing smile on her face suddenly disappearing. "Bad news?" he asked. She just continued to stare at the phone in her hands. "Charlotte?"

  Her head shook as if his voice was bringing her mind back from some far off place. "Huh?" She didn't eve
n look up from the screen.

  "You left me for a second there. Everything alright?"

  Her head snapped up to look at him and he thought he could see a flash of fear in her eyes before it quickly disappeared. "Sorry, I was just uh... I was thrown off by this news tweet you got. Apparently, Declan Reed is, quote, 'excited to face those guys from Detroit again.' Whatever that means."

  Jordan groaned. "I know exactly what that means. We played Los Angeles several months ago and he tried to pick a fight with a few of our guys. Now that he's been traded back to New York, we have to face again this season. That's why I'm not looking forward to it."

  Charlotte's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "What do you mean by 'pick a fight' with them?"

  He signaled and turned his Land Rover onto her street. "He's a pest. He just tries to get under your skin and with the adrenaline from a game pumping through you, it's not always easy to keep a safe distance."

  Charlotte simply turned back to his phone and began wordlessly scrolling through his messages. She seemed to relax again a bit, but he could tell she had been unnerved. He should've told her about the injury. Between that and Declan threatening his team, Charlotte probably had started to fear the worst. He had been with some girls who had loved the idea of being with a hockey player but couldn't actually stomach the injuries or stitches or any of the bad physical stuff that came with dating a hockey player. He thought Charlotte was tougher than that, but maybe he was wrong. He hoped he wasn't.

  Jordan slowed down and pulled up into the driveway in front of Charlotte's building, and she unbuckled her belt and handed over his phone.

  "Thanks for being an excellent text writer."

  "I hope I helped," she replied.

  "Tremendously. I will have to find a way to pay you back," he said in a low voice.

  "I thought that little incident in your kitchen was pre-payment for services."

  He deliberately pushed himself into her personal space. "Then I hope it was worth it."

  He leaned over to kiss her, her mouth responding with an audible hum. He would never get sick of that. On the other hand, he already was very sick of his phone interrupting him at the most inopportune times today.