One More Shot (Hometown Players #1)

by Victoria Denault

  I laugh and reluctantly step away, grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him across the threshold.

  “I have to finish getting ready anyway,” I say, and make a grand sweeping gesture with my hand. “Welcome to my palace. Something tells me your place is bigger.”

  I don’t bother to look at his reaction. I know my place is tiny, but it’s cheerful and clean so there’s that. I leave him walking toward the three large windows that are the front wall of my living room and disappear behind the bedroom curtain.

  “It’s nice,” he calls out, and he sounds like he means it.

  “It’ll do,” I call back from the bathroom as I dig through my makeup bag for that damn lipstick. “I picked it for the windows. It has really great natural light. And the location is not as scary as the other places I could afford.”

  I find the lipstick and start carefully applying it.

  “I like the wide oak floors, and it’s got great ceiling height,” he says, and I glance over and see his form, through the curtain, walk toward the tiny kitchen tucked into the opposite corner from the bedroom.

  “You would notice that because you’re a giant and everything,” I call back as I finally find the pair of heeled boots I was looking for under my bed. I drop onto the bed, which is covered in discarded outfit choices, and start to tug them on as Jordan pulls back the curtain. “Hey, nosy boy. This room is off limits.”

  He stares down at me with a cocky grin. “Don’t worry, beds aren’t our thing anymore. We’ve moved on to couches, remember?”

  I shake my head and fight the heat that wants to erupt on my cheeks. His eyes move up and land on the frames on the wall behind my bed. Three children’s drawings in matching cherry wood frames. He walks over and studies them, leaning over me and my messy bed.

  He looks at the one on the left, which is of a giant dog with purple fur and three stick-figure little girls standing in front of an orange house next to a blue tree. Scrawled at the bottom is the name Rosie.

  “She drew that in kindergarten,” I explain quietly. “It was the first thing she drew after our mom died that wasn’t bleak and sad.”

  He nods and I follow his eyes as they shift to the next frame. The work inside is a sketch done with colored pencils. It’s of a tree and a lake and a dock. It’s not fine artwork, but it’s definitely got a lot of artistic value. At the bottom it says C. Caplan.

  He smiles and glances at the next one. I watch his blue eyes widen and then he flushes.

  “Oh my God, I remember this.”

  “My first Valentine from a boy.” I smile softly. He touches the edge of the glass on the frame as if trying to touch the ridiculous red construction paper card that’s pressed behind it. He had drawn the backyard rink at his house with me on it in full-on goalie gear and him taking a slap shot at me. In the drawing he’s absurdly bigger than me with one giant arm and one tiny one, and I have giant disproportionate feet. The message across the top in black marker is “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “I remember sitting at the kitchen table with Devin and Cole with all the paper and markers strewn out in front of us and being pissed that my mom wouldn’t just let us buy the premade kind from the store,” he explains, eyes still glued to the card. “Devin made them for everyone in his class—girls and boys. Cole made them only for the guys because at seven, girls were still gross. I had made them for all the guys in my class and you.”

  He finally tilts his head downward and finds me staring up at him. His smile is warm and maybe even a little embarrassed. “Do you remember what it says inside?”

  I nod. “To the best goalie I know. Your friend, Jordy.”

  He laughs at that. Well, I think it’s just at that but I’m not sure.

  “You think I’m a sentimental fool, don’t you?” I ask self-consciously.

  “I think…” He pauses and his tongue darts out and wets his lips, which is so fucking hot I think I might pass out. “I think we need to get to this party before I change my mind and fuck you so hard those frames fall off the wall.”

  “Jordan Garrison!” I gasp, smiling, as he takes my hand and pulls me off the bed and out of my apartment.

  My dread from earlier this morning when he first asked me to go to the party starts to build as we drive. By the time we pull up to a large, ornate Victorian home in the affluent Capitol Hill area, I almost ask him to turn the car around. But he looks so happy as he hops out of the car I can’t bring myself to do it. So I jump out nervously before he can make it all the way around to open my door.

  He grins down at me. “Have I told you how amazing you look?”

  I shake my head and try not to blush. His compliment makes the struggle I had earlier trying to find something to wear to a party full of NHL players and their stunning significant others worth it. I decided on the dark-washed designer jeans Callie found at a secondhand store and gave me for my birthday. I paired it with a loose, basically see-through, off-the-shoulder silver-gray top with a little sparkle to it and matching gray camisole underneath. It was a little hippie-ish, but kind of sophisticated too.

  It is so strange to be this nervous and concerned over my appearance with Jordy. When we’d first ended up together, impressing him with my looks had never been a consideration. He’d seen me at my best and worst. Heck, he’d seen me go through awkward puberty phases. But now, for some reason, I am struggling to impress him and his friends, which adds to that jumpy feeling consuming me. Jordan takes my hand in his and leads me to the front door. He rings the bell.

  The door flies open and a tanned, exotic-looking brunette is standing there. She’s in a tight white strapless top and a pair of low, hip-hugging black pants. Her bronzed, taut midriff is visible along with her diamond navel ring that matches the large diamond hoops in her ears.

  “Jordan!” she says, delighted. She hugs him tightly. “Happy New Year!”

  “You too, Ainsley.” Jordan smiles and reaches back to take my hand. “I want you to meet Jessie. Jessie, this is Chooch’s girl, Ainsley.”

  I smile but she doesn’t, at least not warmly.

  “Hi,” she says tersely. Her dark brown eyes land on our attached hands before she spins back toward the living room, which is crowded with people. “Jordy is here!”

  There are a bunch of cheers and some guys and girls come forward, kind of swarming us. It’s hard to keep track as Jordan goes about introducing me to people. There are the guys from the bar that night—Dix and Alex, who gives me a secretive wink. I think he still thinks I’m crazy, but what can you do?

  I meet Chris Dixon’s wife, Maxine, and Jordan’s team captain, Avery Westwood, and his sister, Kate, who he brought as a date. They all seem genuinely friendly, although they’re obviously shocked that Jordan brought a date.

  There’s a gaggle of girls with resting bitch face against the wall of windows, tucked in where the kitchen and den meet. Ainsley is there with them, and they’re in a bit of a huddle until we walk in. Then all their eyes land on us and they slowly break apart, sort of like sharks circling chum in the water.

  Chooch and another guy I think I met briefly in the living room call me over to the breakfast bar. It’s covered with bottles of alcohol and a blender. I wander over, leaving Jordan to continue talking to Igor, his Russian teammate, and Oksana, Igor’s very blonde, Playboy model–looking girlfriend.

  “What can I get you, little lady?” the new guy asks in a thick, charming French Canadian accent.

  “Anything would be great right now,” I confess, relieved at the sight of alcohol. “The stronger, the better.”

  “This is Sebastian, in case you haven’t met yet,” Chooch explains, grinning, which makes him look very young and adorably dorky. “He’s our best defensemen, and he also thinks he’s our best bartender.”

  “I don’t think. I know.” Sebastian winks at me and I notice he has impossibly long, thick dark lashes—the kind I can’t even fake with mascara. “Call me Seb. I’ve heard a lot about you. You fixed Garrison, in m
ore ways than one, I hear.”

  I blush at that but smile. Chooch gives Sebastian a small hip check.

  “Let me make this lady a drink,” he announces, and smiles, his nose crinkling and the freckles on it coming together like a blob of ink on the bridge. “One Chooch special, coming up!”

  Seb shakes his head vigorously, his thick, shaggy dark brown hair falling into his eyes. “And I’ll make you a Seb-tini. His drinks taste like battery acid.”

  I decide I like these two guys best of all the teammates I’ve met.

  “How about I just drink both?” I reply hopefully.

  “Not afraid of booze. I like it.” Sebastian smirks at me.

  I watch Chooch as he blends vodka, gin, lemonade, ice and frozen blueberries into the blender. He stares at me over the swirling blades.

  “So, you and Jordan…you’re no longer fighting?” Seb asks casually as he shakes together some alcohol and juice in a martini shaker.

  I nod. “We’ve called a truce.”

  “That explains why he is so happy lately,” Chooch observes, and I smile. “You got back together in Silver Bay, right?”

  “Back together? No. I…well, we…I don’t know if I would…I mean, we decided to be friends…” I am stammering like an idiot.

  Sebastian is staring at me with a cocked eyebrow and an amused smirk. He has the kind of intense, exotic look that I’m sure is menacing to his opponents on the ice, but I’m equally sure women find it sexy and mysterious off the ice. “He called you his girlfriend yesterday at practice.”

  “He did?” I’m shocked. But that warm feeling blooming in my belly and crawling onto my cheeks also feels like happiness. And that kind of makes me panic. Sebastian laughs and pours his green concoction into a martini glass, which he then slides across the bar at me.

  “So, you two haven’t had ‘the conversation’ yet?” He uses his fingers to make air quotes. I shake my head sheepishly. “Poor Garrison clearly has no idea what he’s doing.”

  Chooch gives Sebastian another shove. “What the hell do you know about conversations? The only one you ever have with a woman is ‘your place or mine?’”

  “That’s the best conversation to have!” Sebastian argues sincerely, and then watches me take a sip of the melon-flavored drink he created. “Good, right? Better than that blueberry sludge he made?”

  I laugh at both of them, feeling at ease for the first time tonight. But then I glance behind me and I don’t see Jordan anywhere. I slip off my stool and give the boys a quick smile. “I’m going to find Jordan.”

  “Conversation time?” Seb asks with a wink.

  “Something like that,” I murmur, and head down the hall toward the living room. He’s not there either. I start to panic. Where did he go? The last time I lost a boyfriend at a party was Chance in high school…I see Alex coming down the ornate carved oak staircase. There’s a tall, thin blonde beside him in a skimpy, hot pink bandage dress. She’s got her hand on the railing and he’s got his hand on her ass. He smiles at me.

  “Have you seen Jordan?” I ask quietly.

  “He was upstairs. I just saw him by the bathroom,” the blonde tells me, and then turns to Alex. “That was him, right?”

  Alex gives her a nod.

  “Thanks.” I push past him and make my way up the stairs, my heart pounding harder with each step. My mind flashes to climbing the stairs six years ago…a different party, a different house, a different boy.

  Please may the result be different.

  Chapter 29

  Jordan

  As I exit the guest bedroom, I see Jessie coming up the stairs. Our eyes lock. She’s got a weird look on her face, one I can’t read and that makes me uncomfortable. I smile at her, trying to ease the tension.

  When she reaches the top, she stops. I notice her delicate hand is gripping the railing so hard her knuckles are white. I don’t know what to do so I simply place my hand on top of hers. She tips her head, her hair swinging softly behind her. My free hand tingles at the prospect of tangling itself in that thick auburn mass, but I stick it in my pocket instead.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Her focus moves from me to the hallway, eyes darting around as if looking for something.

  Before she can say anything, I bend down and kiss her. She isn’t expecting it and her body freezes for a second. I’m gentle and soft. I fight the urge to just overpower her like I feel I’ve been doing with every kiss we’ve ever shared. The blood in my body boils as I fight to restrain myself.

  “How were drinks with Chooch and Seb?” I ask when I finally come up for air.

  “Hysterical,” she says with a smile on those perfect, full lips. “They remind me of your brothers and Luc.”

  “Yeah, they’re idiots just like them,” I joke.

  She laughs and the sound is an aphrodisiac. I suddenly regret taking her to this party because I want nothing more than to be alone with her right now. Alone and naked.

  “Were you using the bathroom?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Show me where it is,” she says.

  I take her hand in mine and lead her into the guest bathroom, which is in the guest room.

  I stop and push open the door to the attached bathroom, reaching around to flick on the light. The room, done in pale green glass tile and off-white marble, fills with light that spills into the guest room.

  Instead of going into the bathroom and closing the door, Jessie rocks up onto her tiptoes and kisses me. Her lips are soft but urgent, and her tongue is in my mouth before I can protest. Not that I was planning on protesting.

  Everything inside me roars to life and I grab her sides, just below her breasts, and push her up into the wall, laying my whole body flat against hers. I use that pressure to keep her up as she lifts her legs and wraps them around my waist. I cup her ass and push my hard-on up into the space between her legs.

  “Jessie…” I whisper into the kiss. It’s a warning. I’m warning her that she’s started something I will have a lot of trouble stopping.

  “I know. It’s not the place…and we’re not eighteen,” she murmurs, and starts to put her feet back down. “This isn’t a Silver Bay house party.”

  “So, what?” I reply, and yank her legs back off the ground.

  I back away from the wall and she wraps her arms around my neck to keep from falling back. I carry her into the bathroom and turn, using her back to push the door closed, then press her up against it.

  I don’t want this to end—ever—so I tell her that.

  “Let’s get naked and stay in this bathroom forever,” I murmur, and kiss my way from her ear to her collarbone.

  She laughs and twists a little, which grinds her core against the throbbing in my pants. I groan and push into her. I use my upper body to pin her to that door and snake a hand in between us to pop the button on her jeans.

  “Jordy…” she says breathlessly, but she doesn’t move to stop me, so I don’t stop.

  Her hands tangle in my hair as I tug down her zipper.

  “There are people everywhere,” she says, but again, no call to stop.

  Her arms slip down my chest and her fingers curl under the hem of my shirt. I feel her knuckles graze the flesh below my belly button, making me quiver like a virgin. Damn. She owns me.

  “Yeah, but not in here. We’re alone here.” I gently push my hand into what feels like lacey underwear, but I’m too busy kissing that awesome spot just under her ear to actually look.

  She takes in an audible ragged breath as one of my fingers slides through her slick folds. Both her hands skim the waistband on my jeans and she follows my lead, popping my button.

  “We’re not horny teenagers,” she reminds me, and then gasps a little as I push a finger up into her. She’s so wet, it’s making me crazy.

  “We were once,” I counter. I try not to quiver as her fingers push into my underwear and lace around my shaft. “We’re picking up where we left off.”

&nbs
p; Her hips start to work with my fingers, which are moving in rhythm with the hand wrapped around me. I fight against the urge to come. You’d really think I’d never done this before. I’m both in awe and fearful of the power she clearly has over me. Still.

  Her beautiful lips part, her mouth forming a tiny O as I guide my thumb to the spot every woman wants a man to find. “Jordy, I’m…”

  I cover her mouth with mine before she can finish the sentence and smile into the searing kiss as her body clenches and pulls at my fingers. She’s quivering against me as her orgasm fades and then, before I know what’s happening, she’s sliding down the wall.

  I watch her drop to her knees, her hands pulling my pants and underwear with her.

  “Oh God, Jessie…” I hold my breath as she wraps that perfect mouth around me, fulfilling a fantasy I’ve had since I was old enough to have fantasies.

  Chapter 30

  Jessie

  We walk back downstairs holding hands, and I’m smiling. Sure, we still haven’t talked and I don’t know where this is going, but I feel like, right now, living in the past is just fine. This night, that little romp in the bathroom, this is how things should have been with us when we were kids. This is what I’ve been missing.

  Someone calls Jordan’s name. It’s Chooch. He’s in the great room by the foosball table, waving frantically at Jordy. “Come! Unless you’re too scared I’ll kick your arse.” He’s trying to be tough but he’s got such a baby face, he just looks goofy.

  Jordan looks down at me. “I kicked his ass at foosball last party.”

  I let go of his hand and give him a push. “Go. Defend your title. I’ll find Seb and get him to make me another drink.”