Defending the Reaper: A Standalone Steamy Sports Romance (The Playmakers Series Hockey Romances Book 5)

by G. K. Brady

  “Yes,” Ellie shot back. “So when the police find my mangled body, you can tell them who did it. Wait. Who’s the Grim Reaper?” And where’s his scythe?

  Wookiee jabbed his thumb against his chest and waggled his considerable eyebrows, but he still hadn’t let go of the door. As Ellie was preparing to slam her body against the door and crush his fingers, Sonoma appeared at his side with a wave and a smile. She seemed to be catching her breath, as though she’d just run. “Hi, Ellie. This is my cousin, Dave.” She placed a friendly hand on the big guy’s shoulder. “I guess he ran into you the other day? Literally?”

  Finn was squawking in the background about wanting to meet Reaper Man. Ellie’s head was spinning.

  “You are no help at all,” she growled into the phone. “Later.”

  She could hear his quail-dying “Waaaait!” right before she hung up. Casper, in the meantime, wedged her nose in the gap, widening it enough to bolt through.

  Sonoma pointed back toward her salon. “I need to get back to my client before she turns platinum, but I’ll vouch for Dave. Of course, if you don’t want to talk to him, I totally get it.” She flashed him an impish smile and patted his shoulder while he scowled down at her.

  Meanwhile, Casper was busy inhaling his leg. He crouched and held out his hand, palm up, and Casper, fierce protector that she was, went straight to work licking him to death.

  “I think he likes me. Or the bacon I had a little while ago.” He chuckled … a nice, warm, rumbly sound.

  “He’s a she.” Wow. Is that the best your tough self can do, El?

  The Wookiee—no, Dave Grimson Reaper Man—looked up at her from under his ball cap, a question mark scrunching his dark eyebrows. “And all this time I thought Casper was a he. It’s kind of hard to tell, though, now that I think about it, with the high-pitched ghost voice and all.”

  “Why are you here?” Ellie blurted.

  “Would it be all right if I came in? Or you stepped out? Just so we’re not shouting through a door?” He rose to his feet, and she took a step back and nearly crushed her own fingers in the door.

  Opening the door fully, she motioned him inside. Though he hunched his shoulders, the guy was big. And scary. But his fierce appearance wasn’t lining up with his body language. No, his stance broadcast self-conscious. Nervous. Shy maybe. He offered her a semblance of a wobbly, white-toothed smile, and some of his ferociousness fell away.

  She peered at him—in an embarrassingly bold way, she realized—because there was something incongruous about his face. He stared right back.

  “Teeth!” she blurted. Her chest and cheeks heated with mortification. “I’m sorry. That was really rude of me.”

  “It’s okay.” His smile widened, showing off straight white teeth. “Glad you noticed, otherwise it wouldn’t have been worth the trouble of putting them in.” Even though it was buried inside lots of beard, it looked like a nice smile. He should probably show it more often. Yeah, and that’s how serial killers lure you in.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “So what can I do for you, Mr. Grimson?”

  Hands dipped into pockets again, and he began rocking on his feet. Nervous. “I was worried and wanted to find out how you’re doing. I also wanted to find out if you’ve heard anything yet about replacing your van.”

  “Wait. Back up a sec. How did you know where to find me?”

  “I was waiting for Sonoma at her back door early the morning after the accident, and I saw your boyfriend drop you off.”

  “My what?”

  “Tall, good-looking blond guy? You were hugging on each other?”

  “Oh, Finn! God, he’ll laugh when I tell him.” She caught herself right before she chuckled, reminding herself she needed to maintain the tough façade, lame as it was. Dave tilted his head, and she went on. “He’s my stepbrother, not my boyfriend. I have no time for boyfriends—or any interest in one, especially now that I’ve graduated from Masochists Anonymous.”

  He barked a laugh. “You too?”

  An awkward silence hung between them. He raced into it. “So you’re doing okay? Physically, I mean?”

  Should I be talking to this guy about this? The achingly concerned look on his face loosened her tongue. “So far, so good.”

  His knees dipped, and something akin to relief softened his features—he was probably grateful to hear she wasn’t preparing to sue his ass. Yet. “Thank fu—that’s good to hear. What about your van? Have you heard anything from either insurance company?”

  “Not yet. And it’s like pulling teeth to get anywhere. One automated selection sends you to a different automated selection.”

  “Yeah, I hate when that happens. I can call my agent and—”

  “No, that’s my insurance company.” She let a sigh slip out. “At least they’re covering most of my rental.”

  “Most?” He glanced down at Casper, propped against his leg in a sloppy sit. Very unladylike. But if Casper was giving him a thumbs-up, he couldn’t be all bad, could he?

  “I had to upgrade to get a van. They wanted to give me a beep-beep car, but those don’t work for hauling stuff.”

  “So I hate to ask, but I’ve been wondering … how did that job turn out for you?”

  “Not well. Because I couldn’t deliver what I promised to deliver, nor could I deliver according to the timeline I agreed to. My opportunity to pick up new clients with bigger bank accounts was a spectacular bust.” Anger simmered inside her with the recall of the disastrous Monroe job. Oh, they’d pulled off a good look, though it wasn’t what the woman had ordered, and Ellie had given her a painfully steep discount.

  Yeah, and it was your fault. Well, not all of it, but I don’t need to tell you that. At least he had the decency to look pained.

  “God, I am so sorry.”

  He looked so forlorn, in fact, that Ellie felt a pang of remorse. “She was a pain in the ass anyway,” she grumbled. “I don’t enjoy working with people like that.” But beggars can’t be choosers.

  “So what was with the Christmas lights?”

  “We were decorating her house for her daughter’s wedding. I’m trying to diversify so I can keep my guys busy year-round. Like lots of landscape companies, we hang Christmas lights in the winter, but there’s not a lot of work in between. I thought decorating houses for other special occasions might be a good way to fill in the gaps.” And why in God’s name am I telling him all this?

  “Sounds like a great strategy to me.”

  “Yeah, it was. Now I’ll have to start over with a new client who’s never heard of Mrs.—”

  He was about to apologize again, she could tell, so she held up her hand. “I know you’re sorry, but honestly there’s nothing you can do about it now.”

  A flush colored what she could see of his cheekbones. “Actually, there is something I can fix for you.”

  She cinched her arms a little tighter. “What’s that?”

  “I can take you car-shopping and buy you a replacement.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “I’ve been looking at some vehicles that might work in place of the Sienna. There’s always a new Sienna, if that’s what your heart’s set on, but this would be a great time to trade up if you’ve been wanting to.” His eyes lit up like someone had flipped on a switch. “Have you checked out the Mercedes Sprinter? Ford has one called the Transit Connect, and Chevy has commercial van options too. Or would a pickup work better? Except … doesn’t your company already have a pickup?”

  She was frozen in place, still gaping at him, wondering if she’d dropped into a different dimension.

  He shrugged, a sheepish half-smile curving his lips. “I get a little carried away when it comes to cars.”

  “So what kind of rental did you get?”

  “Uh, didn’t need one. I had a spare vehicle.”

  Suspicion narrowed her eyes. She darted them out to the parking lot. “Is that your Pontiac GTO convertible out there?”


  He shot her a curious look. “Yes.”

  “What year?”

  He gave his beard a tug. “1964.”

  Nice. “Stock engine?”

  A quiet chuckle rumbled from him. “No. I dropped in a performance engine.”

  Dad would approve. Suddenly, she remembered that car had been cruising her parking lot the past few days, and she gave herself a mental shake. Alarms clanged in her head. “Did you drive by yesterday?”

  “Guilty.”

  Fear bubbled up from her gut. “Are you stalking me?”

  He shook his shaggy head and let out a long, tired sigh. “No. Ever since I realized you work here, I’ve been coming by, trying to figure out how to approach you to find out how you’re doing and about replacing your van. Today I finally decided to just knock on your door.”

  “Why didn’t you just have your cousin introduce us?”

  “Sonoma? No way,” he scoffed. “She’s hard enough to deal with as it is. She doesn’t need to know all my business. Think about all the secrets that get passed around in a ladies’ hair salon.”

  “Isn’t that a little sexist?”

  He shrugged his big shoulders. “Not if it’s true. Dudes don’t gossip in barbershops.”

  “You sure about that?” And when was the last time you were actually in a barbershop?

  “No.”

  Something about him, about the way he said what he said, had her believing his story. “Do you own other cars?”

  There was that small smile again. “Yeah, I love cars. Which is why you should let me take you car-shopping.” Hesitation must have shown all over her face because he raised his hands in surrender, like he’d done at the accident scene. “I’ll bring Sonoma. You should bring Finn.”

  Not what she’d expected. “Why?”

  “In case I’m a serial killer, of course. Safety first.” He winked at her.

  Oh! He did refer to Finn as a tall, good-looking blond, didn’t he? Maybe he wants to meet him. Wait till I tell Finn! Nah, let’s let him be surprised. Wait. Am I actually considering going car-shopping with this guy? And letting him buy me a car?

  “So what do you say?” He tucked his massive hands under his massive shoulders. The T-shirt he was wearing stretched, displaying an equally massive chest. His posture eased. Not so nervous now. Much more relaxed, though the body language still didn’t match the scary Wookiee face. Wonder what he looks like underneath all that?

  He tilted his head. “Hello?”

  “What? Oh, sorry! Um, when?”

  “How about Monday? I’m off that day, and so’s Sonoma. Can you take time off?”

  “Pfft. I know the boss.”

  He gave her a funny look. At least she thought it was funny.

  “That was a joke,” she explained, suddenly feeling awkward as hell.

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  “Then why are you giving me that look?”

  “What look?” His expression said he was genuinely baffled.

  “That look.”

  “I have a look?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a look. I was just thinking I need to call my attorney and let him know what I’m doing.” Her puzzlement must have been obvious because he went on in a low, conspiratorial voice. “He told me to let him handle everything, but at the rate these insurance companies go, you won’t have a check for at least another month, and I hate to see you without wheels that long.”

  “Oh. That’s … thank you.” Wow. That’s really sweet. Unless you’re a serial killer, of course.

  Chapter 6

  Manscaping Design

  Dave left Ms. Hendricks and Casper and took a jaunty stroll to Sonoma’s salon. Jaunty because he’d finally dragged a semblance of a smile out of the very reluctant landscaper. Score one for Grims. Count the dog loving me up, and that’s two. That score—and getting to buy her a new car on Monday—would lift some of the guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders.

  He pushed open the door to Shear Indulgence, and its greeting bells rang out in jubilation. His eyes landed on Sonoma finishing up.

  “Got time for one more?” he called.

  She jerked her head toward an empty station. He took a seat and inspected himself in the mirror. Hairy and scary. Hadn’t those been Ellie Hendricks’s words? Shit, he hadn’t meant to scare her then or today. She’d probably thought he was a perv or the actual Grim Reaper. The moniker, along with his grizzly persona, were fine for throwing the fear of God into his opponents—something he fed off of—but not so with tiny blond women.

  Sonoma cashed out her client and pointed at her station in the back. “Ooh, do I finally get to shave off that bird’s nest you call a beard? If so, you have to promise to find good homes for all the animals living there.”

  “Haha.” He ambled over. “She called me a Wookiee.”

  “Who called you a Wookiee?”

  “Your neighbor, Ellie What’s-Her-Name.”

  Sonoma gave him the requisite eye-roll. “Hendricks.”

  He totally knew that. For some odd reason, he didn’t want Sonoma knowing he knew, though.

  Sonoma pumped the chair down, adjusting the height, then spun him until he faced her mirror. Placing her hands on either side of his head, she leaned in, looking at him in the reflection. “I’m surprised she didn’t call you something much worse. See? Told you she was sweet.”

  “Sweet?” he scoffed. “If she was sweet, she’d smile more and she wouldn’t be so dead set against having a boyfriend. Her words, not mine, and she offered them freely. Girl probably eats them for lunch.” He didn’t really believe that—actually, he had no clue—but he needed to deflect Sonoma’s attempts at matchmaking.

  “Words or boyfriends?”

  “Men.”

  “So what are we doing here?”

  “Trim. Cut, maybe. No shave. Not completely. I’m not ready for that.”

  “Got it. Baby steps.”

  “She called me a Wookiee,” he repeated lamely. “She also mentioned ‘hairy’ and something about scaring the shit out of people.”

  Sonoma straightened and smirked. “So the woman who eats men for lunch and isn’t sweet has motivated you to make the change I’ve been begging you to make for months? How does that work, exactly?”

  “Oh, shut up. That’s not what I meant. What I meant was I’m taking her car-shopping on Monday—I’d like you to come, by the way—and I don’t want to scare the shit out of her again. That’s all.”

  “Oh goody! Are you going to buy me a new car too?”

  “I just did, like a year ago. So you’ll come? I think she’d feel more comfortable. Plus, I told her to bring her stepbrother.”

  Sonoma shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll come. Now. About what we’re going to do with you. Being called a Wookiee could be good or bad. Wookiees are badass and cuddly at the same time.”

  Dave looked at her from under furrowed brows. “I don’t think that’s what she had in mind.”

  “Okay. So smelly and terrifying, and she wants to run every time she sees you. You are intimidating, even without all the hair.”

  “Me? I’m a teddy bear.”

  “More like a pissed-off grizzly.” Sonoma threw a cape over him, faced him away from the mirror, and got to work. “The girl’s not in the market for a boyfriend because she doesn’t have time,” she murmured. “Business comes first, and as a result, all she does is work. Like you. See there? You two already have something in common.”

  He smirked and got a head whack with Sonoma’s comb. “Ouch! What was that for?”

  “What’s the smirk for?”

  “Just thinking that whatever douchenugget goes after that girl better love a challenge.” Good one, Grims. He executed an inner cheer. Dee-fence!

  “All guys love a challenge. It’s probably why she gets hit on all the time.”

  “She does?” The surprise in his voice belied the realization that he was not, in fact, surprised.

&
nbsp; “Of course she does. Have you looked at her?”

  Sure. Online. Where she’s smiling and not sizing up my ass for a good chewing. His mind wandered to her Masochists Anonymous comment.

  “So she doesn’t have any steadies?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, but I doubt she’d tell me anyway.”

  They kept talking, and he lost track of the scissors and trimmers Sonoma wielded. So when she finally whirled him back to the mirror, he almost didn’t recognize himself.

  “Shit, Nome. What have you done to me?”

  “Made you handsome? You’re welcome.”

  He ran his hands over his high, tight sides, then raked his fingers through the longer strands she’d left on top. The biggest shocker, though, was the beard. The huge bush was gone, and in its place was a neatly trimmed version akin to a few weeks’ growth. He ran his hand over it, feeling incredibly naked. He should have thought this out. What the hell was he going to tug on? “Uh …”

  “What do you think?”

  He tilted his head, inspecting his face from different angles. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”

  “But do you like it?” Imploring eyes searched his.

  No. Maybe. He gave her a reassuring nod and eased when her expression brightened. “You did an awesome job. I can see my jaw now.”

  “And a fine, manly jaw it is too. The ladies are gonna love it!”

  He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t do it to impress the ladies.”

  She unfastened his cape, brushing stray hairs off him as she went. “No, just one.” Then she chortled, “You’re manscaping for the landscaper.”

  The protest he was forming was interrupted by a high-pitched squeal. “Oh. My. God! Look at you!” Mandy stood off to one side, eyeballing him shamelessly. When had she sneaked in? Shit.

  Sonoma leaned to his ear. “Not that one.”

  No kidding, he thought to himself.

  “That’s a great look on you, Dave.” Mandy’s voice was so husky he could have shucked it like a corn cob. “Can a girl buy you a drink? I’m all done for tonight.”

  He didn’t need a degree to interpret her facial expression—he’d seen the look before. It was hungry and feral and broadcast something along the lines of “Fuck me now.” His baser self should have at least given the blatant invite some due—it had been a while—but his cock didn’t even stir, preferring to nap in its cozy pouch. A forceful No, thanks echoed in his head. Yoda would have been proud.