My Hockey Romance

by Julia Bevan

  Chapter 6

  Luke

  When I hear the distant rumble, at first my sleepy brain assumes it's thunder. Swathed in cloudlike blankets, I give a tired groan and roll over to turn my face away from the morning sunlight glowing against the backs of my eyelids. I'm not ready to wake up yet from the most amazing dream I've ever had. I want to escape back there to where full lips eagerly await my kiss, a body perfectly melted against my own, and soft eyes staring back at me… When I yawn and inhale the familiar scent of sweet and mussed hair, my eyes instantly pop open in shock. It wasn't a dream at all. I'd half woken in the middle of the night in a start, trying to recall if last night had actually taken place. I'd patted the side of the bed, but I hadn't felt a thing. Now, in the light of morning, I can tell that she most definitely does exist and she's still as glorious as I thought I'd imagined - and I still don't know her name. We'd been so caught up in each other's bodies that it hadn't occurred to either of us to exchange pleasantries. She sleeps so peacefully that I'm even afraid to move because it might I wake her, though my fingers can't help but brush over her cheek, pushing back the long hair that hangs into her closed eyes. My fingers follow the curve of her jaw, the tip of my thumb just barely brushing over her lower lip. She shifts only slightly, her mouth pressing against my finger in a way that makes my body flood with warmth once more. The rumbling starts again, and I realize it's the hotel room cleaners going from unit to unit. That's odd, though, for them to be cleaning so early. Curious, I carefully shift across the bed away from the sleeping figure to shoot a glance at the clock. I'd thought it'd be much earlier than it is, it's already almost nine. Dammit! I hiss to myself, wishing that it was earlier so that I could lounge in bed with the beautiful woman beside me for as long as I wanted, but I have practice at ten, and I need to get showered and get ready. Gazing at her, however, made me wonder if perhaps it'd be worth it to miss just one practice... Before I could mull the thought for longer than a second or two, my hungry eyes roaming over the curves of her body just barely concealed under the gossamer white sheet draped over her, there's a sudden ringing of a cell phone across the room. I fumble out of bed, half army crawling towards where our clothes are in a crumpled heap strewn about on the floor. Unsure whether it's her phone or mine, I dig through both of our clothes before discovering her phone under my boxers. I toss aside the cotton underwear, glancing down at the glowing screen. To my shock, it's a picture of Ben's face that stares back at me. He grins joyfully from the screen, two big thumbs up pointed back towards me like he was congratulating me for a successful romp. Holy hell. Did this girl know Ben? Is that why she came over last night? My mind races. Has Ben ever mentioned a girlfriend before? Swallowing hard, I leap up and away from the phone and Ben's prying eyes. In my haste to escape the picture, I slip over the girl's skirt and belly flop down onto the bed. My fall sends sheets and pillows flying up into the air. The woman gives a startled yelp and shoots upwards, so she's sitting, the blanket coiling around her stomach. For a second, entranced by the beauty of her naked body, I completely forget about Ben's photo on her phone and the question of why he was calling her. "Are you okay?" she asks, voice slurred with sleep, "What in the world just happened?" She rubs at her eyes, blinking hard and trying to see straight. She looks around, taking in the bright sunlight. When she looks back at me, her face is pale. "What time is it?" she asks hurriedly, probably late for a rendezvous with her next hockey boy toy. "Why is Ben calling your phone?" I shoot back. I'm still rocking my morning wood, and I can't get that stupid picture of his face out of my head. She rubs at her ears this time like she wasn't sure she was hearing me right, climbing out of bed and starting to collect her clothing. "What?" "Ben! Benjamin Miller! Why is he calling you?" "Who? My brother?" "Brother?" I echo, suddenly numb. The girl stares blankly at me, her head tilting to the side. The realization of where I've seen her face before hits me harder than a hundred-pound sack of bricks. That nose, those freckles, the shape of her eyes. She's all but the spitting image of my best friend, her older brother - and I am the one who defiled her. Oh god. Ben is never going to forgive me for this. "What is going on?" the girl asks, slinking closer. She loops her arms around my neck, pressing a light kiss against my cheek. Her lips linger against my jaw, traveling towards my earlobe. I strain to focus on my thoughts, though her breath on my ear makes my skin tingle. "You're the little sister he's always talking about," I mumble weakly, staring down at my raging boner, a raging boner for my best friend's little sister. This could not get more messed up. "...You know Ben?" she asks uncertainly, pulling slowly back from me. My eyes wander up her body as though I'm memorizing it for the last time. "I'm Luke. Ben's best friend. We're on the hockey team together." She looks away distractedly, her gaze finding the clock as her face drains entirely of color. "Wait, you're Luke?" she cries out, simultaneously starting to drag on her clothes, "You're the obnoxious goalie?" "Listen," I start, but she holds up her hands and backs away from me, "I'm not obnoxious-" "I've got to go," she says urgently, entire face contorted in panic, "I just... I just have to get out of here."

  Chapter 7

  Josie

  Somehow, I'd managed to sneak into my office without Peter noticing that I was unforgivably late, even though I was wearing the same clothes as I had to the party last night and they were hardly work appropriate. It isn't like I had much of a choice, though. On our second day of working here, one of our coworkers had stopped to tie his shoe just outside the building and walked through the doors only two minutes past seven. Peter had been waiting with a box of things of the guy's stuff from his office and a red slip. I comb my fingers through my hair, trying to get it to lay flat against my neck to cover up the love bites peppered there by Luke. Luke, ugh, even just his name makes me shiver. Of all the people in that nightclub, I'd chosen the one to sleep with that meant the most to my brother. I hadn't worked up the courage to call Ben back though I'd sent him a text with the excuse that I was working and couldn't talk. He'd sent back a picture of him in bed eating a cheeseburger and fighting the hangover from hell. Typically, the picture would've made me laugh. Today, it made me want to cry. On my brother's big night, I'd slept with his best friend. Ben is the type of man where loyalty means everything. He'd never forgive Luke for taking me home. He's way too protective. If he were to find out, then it would possibly damage not only the friendship between Luke and Ben but the core of the relationship between Ben and myself. I'd be the one who couldn't keep it in my pants and destroyed his friendship. He'd say it was all Luke's fault, but he'd secretly blame me too. Nothing would ever be the same. I can't let that happen. Ben's practically the only family I have to count on. I'd have to track Luke down later and tell him never to speak of what happened between us to Ben, but for now, I would just have to keep my fingers crossed and hope that he had the sense enough to do just that until I could be sure. Luke and I could never, ever spend the night together again. As far as he and I are concerned, we are merely strangers. How much easier this all would've been if we just never discovered one another's identities... we could've gone months without this stress. A year from now, when I finally had time to attend one of Ben's games, Luke and I barely would've recognized each other. It would've faded to the back of my mind, nothing but a hazy memory of really, really fantastic sex. Cool chills prickle up and down my arms, memories of the long night we spent together simmering in my veins. His kiss, his touch, his body against mine... it'd been amazing, and amazing was putting it extremely lightly. It'd been mind-blowing. He was mind-blowing. And now I could never see him again. I give a faint grunt and bury my face in my hands. It's just my luck that the most amazing man I've ever met would be completely off-limits. Not that he was probably interested in pursuing things with me. I'm sure I'm the farthest thing from his type that ever was, but even just the option would've been nice. When I close my eyes, senses dulled, I can still taste him. Or maybe that's just because I didn't have time to brush my teeth before rushing here as fast as I could. "Well, well
, well," says a sharp voice from the door of my office. My eyes spring back open, my face arranging into what I hope looks like a perfectly innocent expression. There wasn't anything innocent about me today, though. Peter Tullamore stands there, his other eyebrow lifted this time. Just how in the world did he manage to do that? I couldn't even wink properly, but his eyebrows were like living caterpillars on his face, always crawling around and changing positions. "How was your evening, Josie?" he asks, blinking slowly. I clear my throat and give a tepid shrug. "It was… uh… not too interesting," I finally answer, grateful that my voice is hoarse from shouting at the club. At least that will make my feigned sickness a little more realistic now. "You don't say? Hm. Well, that's funny because someone in the office seems to have seen you at a… what was it?" Peter glances over at where the redheaded staff woman is meekly wringing her hands. "The club downtown," she sputters, shooting me an apologetic glance. "Go Portland Pumas…" She gives a weak thrust of her fist in the air. Traitor! "Want to explain yourself?" Peter asks, shooing away the girl and then stepping towards me. He closes the office door after him, making me swallow hard. Every inch he took closer to me made me sink farther and farther into my chair. "While you're at it," he adds, before I can manage to collect myself, "you might as well explain why you came into work late today as well." Now it's me who's anxiously wringing my hands, my fingernails digging into the sides of my palm with worry. I'd worked so hard to get this job, and now I could stand to lose it. Everything I'd worked so hard for and I could have just thrown it all away for a single night out on the town. Just how stupid could I be? "My brother plays for the Pumas. He won an award and asked me to come. I haven't seen him in forever and so I just… I just wanted to go." My head hangs in defeat, but my shoulders feel slightly heavier for coming clean with the truth, "I understand if you have to let me go." "Let you go?" Peter echoes, giving a dry chuckle that makes me even more worried than I was a few minutes ago. "Oh, Josie, I won't fire you for that. I can tell you feel awful about the terrible choice you've made." "I do!" I gasp, leaping to my feet in surprise. "I really, honestly do." "And you realize you risked everything for a single night of merriment?" Again I nod eagerly. "Good. Because if you want to keep working here, I own you now. You might as well sell your apartment, you're going to be spending so much time in this office. Every task I need to be done, you do. Every coffee I crave, you get. Do you hear me?" Stunned, my once eager nod turns into a hesitant one. "Good. You can start by getting my dry cleaning, and when you get back, you can clean out this office. It's no longer yours." "But you aren't firing me-" "No, but I'm demoting you. You're no longer a real part of the staff here. You're a gofer, an errand girl, and you're lucky to even be that. If you prove your worth, then maybe we can consider you joining as an architecture intern later. Now get going." Peter turns on his heel in disgust, leaving me staring after him with tears welling in my eyes. In one night, I potentially ruined my career and my relationship with my brother. What am I going to do now?

  Chapter 8

  Luke

  Even though we're in an ice rink, after Ben throws off his helmet he lifts his water bottle over his face and dumps the cold liquid all down his face. When he drops it, his body drops with it, collapsing in a dramatic heap on the ground in front of the players' bench. "That's what you get for drinking too much last night, Benji!" the coach laughs, smirking as he steps over the limp man. This practice had been the most brutal one of the season, both because of the team's collective hangover and because I'd been doing everything I could to avoid Ben like the plague. Every time he skated over to chat, or every time we were supposed to skirmish together, I'd found ways to escape him. Unfortunately for me, the hockey center appears to have taken notice. He pushes himself up onto his palms, gesturing me back over with his chin. I glance around, trying to find any reason to not hang out with him, and when I find none, I begrudgingly plop down at his side to sip from my own water jug. "I don't remember much from last night," Ben remarks with a laugh, "but I woke up with salsa stains all down my shirt. Since when does that club even have food?" "They don't," Max shouts from farther down the ice with a laugh. Ben shakes his head, then sidles a little closer to me. "You alright, Luke? You've been all up in your head the whole practice. I don't think you blocked one shot. You almost took a puck right to the face. I thought I was going to be the weak link today, but you were totally worthless out there." He grins, hoping to playfully rib me into a reaction, but I can hardly look at the guy. Every time I do, I just feel more and more guilt-ridden. Regardless of their close age, Ben looks at Josie more like a daughter than a sister, and I was the one who'd done naughty, naughty things to her all night long… naughty and delicious and spinetingling. Lustful hairs lift off the back of my neck. I'd never had to keep a secret from Ben before. Just how long could I keep something as massive as this hidden from him? At least Josie is so busy with work that I won't have to worry about running into her. If I did, I don't know that I could just turn and walk the other way. I don't know what it is about her, but she draws me in like a moth to a flame. I suppose it's best that Ben's memories of last night are fleeting at best. That means there'll be fewer questions about where I was the entire party. "Hey," he says, tossing aside his empty water bottle. His hair is flat against his head, and he tugs off his gloves to run his fingers through it, "is the reason you're all weird today because of the girl?" "Girl?" I yelp, instantly grimacing at the distinct lack of manliness to the tone. Great, that wasn't suspicious at all. Ben laughs heartily, stealing my water bottle to drink from now. "I heard from some people at the club that you left with a girl." "Who told you?" I ask instantly, glancing towards some of our other teammates, but Ben shakes his head. "None of these guys, but you know how people talk. How was she? Was she any good?" he wiggles his eyebrows, and I feel suddenly sick to my stomach. "I, uh, I don't remember," I mumbled weakly. Ben rolls his eyes, "I guess that means it wasn't just me who had a little too much juice last night, if you know what I mean." "Juice?" I echo, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't that what the cool kids are calling alcohol these days?" he murmurs distractedly before shaking his head. "I am not letting you change the subject here, Luke. You never take girls back to your room. What happened? She must've been something. Was she smoking hot or what?" "She was," I answer honestly, eyes going glassy before I can help it. This morning, before the metaphorical shit had hit the symbolic fan, Josie had looked so beautiful sleeping in my bed. I could've sat there forever just watching her chest slowly rise and fall, listening to the faint noises she made. I'd always thought that was so weird, how people would talk about watching someone else sleep, but with her... I totally get it. It was like looking at a masterpiece of a painting, an art piece that could captivate me for hours. Ben abruptly snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, jerking me roughly from my reverie. "That answers my question," Ben smirks, "I've got to meet this girl. You look like you're on cloud nine." He looks away, and I'm grateful that he won't notice how pale my face is getting the longer this conversation continues. "Ah, too bad. It was a one-time thing." "What? Why?" Ben starts to ask, but the coach has headed back out onto the ice and everyone glances over. "Who wants to take the jerseys to the dry cleaner before the big game this weekend?" he asks, not exactly expecting a mass of volunteers. Fortunately for him, I'm desperate to avoid a conversation with my best friend about my night spent with his little sister. "I will, coach!" I shouted, springing to my feet and rushing over to him to take the box. "Well, I mean, it doesn't have to be right now," he says uncertainly, but I'm already well on my way out the door. The entire way over to the dry cleaner, all I can think about is Josie. But I have to clear my head. I have to forget her. I will never again feel her fingers run down my back or hear her passionate sigh, or see a faint smile meant just for me… Something abruptly collides with me as I turn a sharp corner in front of the dry cleaner, sending both of us flying backwards. "Damn!" I wince, tossing aside the box to lean down and help the person I'd collided with, "I am so... Jo
sie..." Ben's little sister stares up at me from where she's splayed out on the sidewalk and covered with the grimy hockey jerseys that have spilled from the box. Dammit… so much for forgetting her.