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

by G. K. Brady

  “We have a new mother-hen trainer who’s afraid of his own fucking shadow. He’s trying to look like he’s doing a good job, so I have to sit,” Dave had fired back, his mind wandering back to Bobby’s text. I can help with that.

  “Either way, you sitting doesn’t help our cause. I’m going to hold off on shopping you until you’ve been back on the ice for a few games. That way, interested teams can see you’re a hundred percent. No use trying to float it out there right now.”

  “Did you get a chance to float it out there at all? Was anyone interested?”

  “A few teams. Arizona, for one.”

  Shit. Arizona’s a good team. And it’s not in the fucking frozen north. “I guess that’s some good news, then.” And I’ll take any I can get right about now because things aren’t looking so good.

  At least he had car-shopping to look forward to in two days.

  Chapter 8

  Have I Got a Beauty for You!

  Ellie rocked on her heels as she peered out the front window of her office, waiting for Finn so they could all go “car-shopping.” How weird was that? “The guy that hit me wants to take me car-shopping—with his cousin and Finn,” she’d told her mom during their weekly call. “He sounds like a very considerate—and contrite—person,” her mother had said. Of course she had. Mom never took off her rose-colored glasses, which gave Ellie hope she might see the world through a less gloomy lens. After all, they shared the same DNA.

  A gleaming burgundy Porsche Cayenne Turbo pulled into the parking lot. Eyes roaming over the lines of the gorgeous SUV, she didn’t notice the driver until he unfolded his big frame from behind the steering wheel and stepped out. He was a well-built man sporting jeans, leather Oxford sneakers, and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that hugged his square shoulders. With well-groomed chestnut-brown hair and a dark trimmed beard over a square jaw, he presented an appealing package. Like she had his vehicle, Ellie appreciated his lines. Broad, muscular, chiseled. He looked thirty-ish and had a way of moving that exuded easy masculine confidence. Not a swagger, but an air that said, “This is who I am. Take it or leave it.”

  She tucked herself into a corner, keeping him in her line of sight, watching as he stood beside the Porsche, scrolling through his phone, his head down. Though she hadn’t gotten a close look at his face, she could tell it was nice enough that she wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers. Wonder if he’d be interested in a booty call?

  He looked up, and she ducked back, but not before registering something familiar about him. Gears aligned in her head. Tall guy, nice car, hanging out in her parking lot. And she was appalled. She’d been ogling “The Grim Reaper Wookiee”! Where had his Wookiee suit gone? She told herself she had it wrong, that this smooth stranger was different from the one who looked as if he’d just stepped out of the back woods for the first time in a decade.

  A moment later, another car pulled up, and out hopped Sonoma. The last cog slid home when the man bent down to hug her. That is him! Realization smacked Ellie in the forehead like a piñata stick that had missed its target. “Oh. My. God. He must have spiffed himself up to meet Finn,” she said aloud, followed by an incredulous chuckle. “Definitely noooo booty call for you, El.” Even if she’d wanted to sleep with the dolt who’d hit her … which she certainly did not.

  The back door crashed open, about launching Ellie from her suede ankle boots.

  “Hi, El.”

  She whirled, hand on her chest, and gulped in a breath. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the shit out of me! Maybe go easy on the door next time?”

  “Sorry.” His eyes popped. “Holy fuck, look at you!” He gave her a cursory eye-sweep. “Nice to see you out of uniform and looking like a … a … female of the species.” He sniffed the air dramatically. “You even wore your hair down and used shampoo.”

  He stood too far away for the shove she wanted to give him, so she had to settle for the eye-roll he so richly deserved.

  A slow smirk formed on his face. “Did you get dressed up to impress the captain of the hockey team?”

  “We don’t even know if he’s the same guy.” Heat raced up her neck and burned her cheeks like a blazing beacon—not because Finn was right, which he wasn’t, but because she’d just been salivating over said captain of the hockey team, who would probably pick Finn over her anyway. “And no, I only wore this because everything else was dirty.” Not true, but she’d merely donned skinny jeans and a form-fitting pink sweater under an ivory vest. No big deal.

  Finn joined her at the window. “Yeah, right. So are they here?”

  “Looks like. At least I recognize Sonoma.”

  Finn’s eyebrows pinched together. “That’s not Grimson with the cute redhead. Or is it?”

  “Let’s go find out, shall we?” Ellie locked the back door, picked up her purse, and perched her sunglasses on her head.

  “She his girlfriend?” Finn asked with a casualness she recognized as fake.

  “No, his cousin, whose salon is four doors down. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed her.”

  “Me neither.”

  Ellie didn’t miss Finn’s eyebrows inching up his forehead as he locked the front door behind them. “Please don’t hit on her. I like how she styles my hair. After you dump her, I have no idea who will cut it.”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to hit on her, El. But if she hits on me? I might not be able to fight her off.”

  Ellie sent a death glare his way, and he returned a cocky grin.

  It was an unseasonably warm, gorgeous fall day—the mini heatwave that usually preceded a clobbering snowstorm. “Finn, we need to send out an email blast to our clients reminding them to protect their plants and disconnect their hoses.”

  He whacked her arm. “Give the work brain a rest, El.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Now relax, for fuck’s sake!”

  Sonoma and Dave glanced their way as they approached. Ellie zeroed in on Dave, waiting for any telltale looks he might send Finn’s way, but she was caught flat-footed when instead his eyes darted from Finn and landed on her—and stayed there. For a breathless moment, she was caught in an intense beam she couldn’t escape. His eyes were dark green or blue—she couldn’t tell—but something flared in them before they drilled deeper. She finally broke the uncomfortable stare, the heat in her cheeks intensifying, but he didn’t look away until Finn stuck out his hand.

  “Finn Callahan, Ellie’s stepbrother.”

  “Pleasure. I’m Dave Grimson, and this is my cousin, Sonoma Hartley.”

  Finn beamed Sonoma a white-toothed Finn special.

  “Hey, Ellie,” Dave greeted her, his voice all low and soft and not scary.

  She gave him a head bob, trying to swallow past her dry throat.

  “Are you the Dave Grimson?” Finn blared.

  “I don’t know about the. There are lots of Dave Grimsons.”

  “But they don’t play D for the Blizzard. That’s you, right?”

  A nod.

  “Shit, I didn’t recognize you without the beard! How’s the hand, man? I miss seeing you play.”

  Dave flexed his right hand. “It’s great. I’ll be back playing any day.”

  Sonoma elbowed Ellie. “What do you think of Dave’s new look, Ellie? Big improvement, huh?”

  Dave’s expectant gaze shifted to Ellie, and she squirmed inside. Way to put me on the spot, Sonoma. No tip for you next time! “Well, it definitely cuts down on the scare factor.” Her failed attempt at diplomacy made her cringe inside. God, could I sound any lamer?

  But Dave broke into a smirk that flashed white. Yeah, with what he makes, he can afford the best dental care money can buy. “Less scary was the whole idea. I didn’t want to give you nightmares.”

  “See?” Sonoma cried triumphantly and patted Dave’s shoulder, then ran on to explain how she’d been after him to clean up his act, and how he’d finally gotten motivated. She shot Ellie a sly glance.r />
  Is this about impressing Finn?

  “You weren’t giving me nightmares,” Ellie told him, “but I have to admit you’re easier on the eye now.” She could have sworn a blush colored his angled cheekbones.

  They piled into the Cayenne, Dave insisting she ride in front, where he handed her a stack of papers. “I took the liberty of printing some specs for you. That way you can look them over and jot down any questions before we hit the dealerships.” He handed her a pen. “I ranked them in order of best features first, focusing on their keyless entry systems and hands-free liftgates. Thought that might be important in your line of work.”

  She turned her head and gawked at him.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “We’re starting with Chrysler first. From there, Honda, Kia, and Toyota.” He gave her a sidelong glance as he drove. “I really hoped Mercedes would be a good option, but when it comes to keyless entry, their vans don’t stack up against the others. I’m totally down to go there, but it’s your call.”

  In the backseat, Sonoma and Finn buzzed with conversation. Ellie slid a look at Dave maneuvering the Porsche. His motions were practiced and smooth, and her eyes zoomed in on his hands commanding the steering wheel—hands that looked as though they could turn a piece of rebar into a pretzel. Rough. Rugged. An image of them on her bare skin popped into her head, and she recoiled inside. What is wrong with me? She yanked her gaze away and shook her head to get rid of the torrid vision, reminding herself Finn might be more Dave’s type.

  A frown knotted Dave’s eyebrows. “Does that mean Mercedes is out?”

  “What? Oh. No. I was just … You put a lot of time and effort into this.”

  He grinned like a little kid about to get a Dairy Queen double-dipped cone. “I enjoyed it. Cars are fun.”

  You should smile like that more often, Mr. Reaper.

  Sonoma seemed to tune in from the backseat. “Dave’s a total motor head. Don’t get him going, or he’ll quote you every spec on every car ever built.” She paused a beat. “And if he does get going, just tell him to shut up.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Ellie fought the quirking at the corners of her mouth. Her father was a motor head, and she saw nothing wrong with it.

  Dave glared at the rearview mirror. “Gee, thanks, Nome.” He side-eyed Ellie and dropped his voice conspiratorially. “All she cares about is the color.”

  Ellie held up the stack of papers. “What colors do they come in?”

  He let out a gust of air. “You did not just say that.” The twitch in his lips told her he was joking.

  “She so did,” Finn threw in. “But don’t let her fool you. She knows her way around cars.”

  “Only the oldies without all the complicated onboard computer crap,” she added.

  Dave’s eyebrows inched up his forehead. “That’s how you knew about the GTO. Where did you learn?”

  “My dad. He used to fix up cars for a hobby, and he let me tag along. I guess I pestered him with lots of questions, so I ended up learning a few things.” Before he married Finn’s mom and became a father to her passel of kids. After that, not only did he stop tinkering with cars but alone time with him grew scarce, making those early years that much more precious. Ellie stifled a wistful sigh.

  They pulled into the Chrysler dealership, and Dave killed the engine. “I’d like to know more about that sometime.” The grin was back in place, and she felt an inappropriate flutter in her belly.

  As they headed inside, he spouted details about power trains, brakes, suspension, and safety ratings. “They also have a hybrid version we need to check out.”

  And so they did.

  Three dealerships later, Ellie’s head was swimming, and her belly was growling so loudly that Dave shot it a look. “Either someone has a lion living in her stomach, or she needs to be fed.” As if on cue, a roll of thunder rumbled from his stomach, and he chuckled. “Maybe we should stop for lunch?”

  “God, yes!” Sonoma called from the backseat. “What about you, Finn?”

  “I could eat,” Finn agreed cheerfully.

  “Finn, you could eat twenty-four-seven,” Ellie teased. Sonoma let out a giggle, and it occurred to Ellie she’d never heard the hairdresser giggle before—not that they were besties or anything, but they’d known each other for years. Ellie turned to Dave. “I’d like the break. Then I can take a minute to breathe and go over some of these choices. They’re all mushing together in my head at the moment.”

  He kept his eyes focused on the road. “I’ll help. Sushi okay?”

  “Sushi would be great.” How long had it been since she’d had sushi that didn’t come prepackaged from the grocery store? Worse, the discounted stuff that had sat in the case too long because she’d been too busy to get there sooner?

  When they walked into the restaurant, Dave asked for a booth. “It’s sacrilege not to eat at the bar, but it’ll be easier to look over your notes if we can spread out a little.”

  In a surprise move, he placed his fingers at the small of her back, guiding her as they followed the server, then pulled them away an instant later. While her first reaction had been to flinch, his fingers were gone before she could do anything. And now she realized the touch had felt kind of nice. Protective, almost. Someone had taught him some manners.

  At the booth, he motioned for her to slide in, and he joined her, his hip knocking hers. The closeness—warm and solid—radiated up her side, and she felt its loss as soon as he mumbled an apology and moved away. It’s been way too long if I’m enjoying this guy bumping my hip and prodding my back.

  Across from them, Sonoma wore a fangirl look Ellie had seen before on women in close proximity to Finn. Oh, this is no good. She felt the urge to warn Sonoma that Finn was a bad bet if she was hoping for more than a fling. But Finn had a goofy smile plastered on his face, as if he were equally infatuated. Oh no!

  Ellie snuck a look at Dave, who studied the sushi menu, his pencil poised, seemingly oblivious or uninterested in the chemistry crackling on the opposite side of the booth. She didn’t know what she’d expected—for him to be jealous that he wasn’t having the same kind of connection with Finn?

  Before she could ponder it too long, four women sidled up to the table. Dave jerked his head up. Eight eyes were trained on him, wide smiles to match. Fans wanting his autograph. Or something else from him.

  “So you recognized him?” Finn asked the girls, sounding incredulous. The silly grin he’d directed at Sonoma was gone, replaced by a genuinely curious look. He didn’t seem to be checking them out, which was weird because they were all pretty.

  “I’d recognize the captain of the Blizzard anywhere,” one gushed as she thrust a pen and paper place mat at Dave. “Would you mind signing?”

  Dave’s entire demeanor shifted. Whereas his big shoulders had been loose a second ago, he straightened as if a hockey stick had been shoved up the back of his jersey. With an automatic nod and a strained half-smile, he rattled off, “Of course not. Be happy to,” as if he’d said it a thousand times before. He probably had.

  “Oh. And make it out to Tiffany?” she added with a bat of her eyelashes—totally wasted on Dave because he was bent to the place mat, busily scrawling. Without missing a beat, he added her name and handed it back to her.

  Ellie watched in silent fascination as the next woman elbowed Tiffany out of the way, and the process repeated itself until the last fan’s turn arrived. She was wearing a Blizzard jersey with the number ninety-two on its sleeve and a big C on the left side of her chest. Tugging on the jersey so it tightened across her boobs, she boldly leaned into him and asked him to sign the letter.

  A subtle flinch traveled between his shoulder blades. “I’m happy to sign the back.” Though his voice wasn’t gruff, his it’s-not-happening tone was unmistakable. Must be why he’s the captain. The girl spun, and with an audacity completely foreign to Ellie, stuck her ass out. Wordlessly, he rose and, without any of his body managing to touch hers, penned his name between �
��Grimson” and his number.

  After he sat back down, she pivoted toward him. With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she offered to sign something for him—and add her phone number. He declined politely, though he consented to a few selfies with them. They lingered several beats, and with an astonishing amount of grace, he asked if they’d give him time with his “friends he hadn’t seen in a while.” How could they say no? His shoulders flexed under the T-shirt fabric and dropped an inch as an exhale left his body.

  “Impressive,” Ellie said. “If you ever decide to give up hockey, you should think of becoming a diplomat.”

  Dave turned, one side of his mouth curving up. “No, thanks. I’ve had my fill of it in this career.”

  Finn focused on the women as they walked away. “So that must happen all the time. Tough life, bruh.”

  “Dave’s on hiatus after his last disastrous relationship,” Sonoma threw in with a smirk, pulling Finn’s attention back to her. Dave shot her a glare only siblings or close cousins could exchange without torching each other. She shrugged sans apology. “It’s true, Dave. You know I love you, but you’ve got way better taste in cars than you do women.” Her eyes darted between Finn and Ellie. “Unfortunate taste might be a better description.”

  Oh! Guess Finn’s not his type after all. A quick, inexplicable pulse of warmth in her chest left Ellie light-headed.

  “Take the last one,” Sonoma drawled. “Nicole.”

  Ellie’s momentary dizziness evaporated, knocking against her rib cage.

  Dave gave Sonoma a warning glare and growled, “Nome? ’Nuff said.”

  “Right. Sorry. You seem to be enjoying yourself today, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “No,” he huffed. “You don’t.”

  With fortunate timing, the server appeared at their table, and when he left with their orders, his departure took some of the building tension between the cousins with him.

  Dave grunted, took a sip of water, and turned to Ellie. “Are you going to be putting your new van to work right away?”