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

by G. K. Brady

  Her contemplations were jolted off their rails when one of the players—Viktor?—sidled up beside her and told her she was pretty. What? Between his accent and his startling stealth, she must have misheard. “Excuse me?”

  “I say you are very pretty.” He smiled shyly and ran his fingers through his tousled curls. Yeah, he was cute—cute like a stray puppy, and she had no desire to house-train a puppy.

  She barely got a chance to thank him for the compliment when his eyes widened and the smile fell. Someone whispered in her ear, and she nearly yelped.

  “How’s it going?”

  Damian. A few steps and she was almost out of arm’s reach. “It’s going well. What do you think? Is this everything you hoped for?” She couldn’t corral her babbling. Maybe if she grabbed Viktor’s arm, Damian would take the hint and leave her alone … but Viktor was nowhere to be found.

  Damian gave her a smile that bordered on a leer. “I was wondering … when we’re done here, would you be interested in grabbing a coffee or a cocktail?”

  “Um, well,” she stuttered, “I’ll be tied up for a while, so I don’t think that’ll work.” Am I suddenly smeared in eau de bacon? What’s with these guys coming around? The moon’s aligned with the planets. My zodiac house is in the seventh sky. The nine realms are in convergence. Thor will appear with his magic hammer. And if he asks, I’ll totally date him.

  “I’d love to ask you out for dinner, but I already have a date tonight.” He—Damian, not Thor—paused to smirk or sneer, she wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t a good look. Was this his way of showing her how desirable he was? Not working, buddy.

  “Maybe tomorrow night?” he had the audacity to ask.

  Dude! Get a clue! The scary thing was that Damian was her type—and not just physically. He was also intelligent, well-read, and carried a certain air of superiority. With his expressive eyes and devilish smile, he probably got a lot of female hearts racing. Maybe she was finally getting a clue because he was doing absolutely nothing beyond making her recoil inside.

  She took a step back and slammed into a brick wall that grunted.

  Chapter 12

  Aliens Hijacked My Brain

  Wyatt paused, planted his shovel tip in a pile of rock, and rested his forearm on the butt end of the implement. His gaze wandered across the lot and stayed there.

  Dave wedged his transfer shovel under another load of rock and grunted, “What do you see?”

  “Admiring the scenery.”

  Dave paused and followed Wyatt’s gaze. The only scenery was Ellie Hendricks. The sun played on her hair, making the pale red strands shimmer with gold, and they whispered to him. Silk. Touch.

  “Something about that girl in those boots is really, really hot.” Wyatt had a look in his eye Dave had seen before. It was the one he got right before he pounced. “You dating her, Cap?”

  “What? No.” She’s just a woman I crashed my car into. And that I’ve been staring at since I got here.

  Wyatt looked him in the eye. “Then you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

  Yes.

  Whoa! Where did that come from? “She’s no bunny, Bro.”

  “I know that,” Wyatt scoffed. “Maybe I’m sick of bunnies.” His face split into a wolfish grin. “Besides, she doesn’t have to be a bunny for me to rock her world.”

  Something surprisingly green and toothy deep in Dave’s gut sent a surge of energy through his bloodstream, and he bent back to work, forcing the shovel so hard he nearly snapped the haft. He looked up at Wyatt, who continued his ogling.

  “You gonna work or just stand around with your thumb up your ass?” Dave bit.

  “In a sec, Cap. Fuck!”

  Dave straightened. “Now what?”

  Wyatt’s gaze was still pointed in Ellie’s direction. “Fucking Viktor. He’s making a play for her. Asshole! Rookie’s not respecting the seniority code.”

  Dave pivoted and watched as Viktor raked his fingers through his long curly hair. That gesture, along with his accent, was part of his aw-gee-shucks routine that women found “adorable”—for some unfathomable reason—and made them trip all over themselves to hop in the sack with him. Judging by Ellie’s body language, she wasn’t one of those women, and Dave’s heart lifted.

  “What the hell’s the seniority code?” he asked absentmindedly.

  “You know. The oldest guy or the one who’s been on the squad the longest gets first crack. I out-senior fucking Viktor.”

  “I don’t think he’s making any headway,” Dave remarked blandly. He handed Wyatt his shovel.

  “What’s this for?” Wyatt protested.

  Dave pushed up his jersey sleeve and wiped his forehead on his Henley. “Seniority code in action. I out-senior and outrank both your asses.”

  “But you said you weren’t dating her,” Wyatt spluttered.

  “That’s about to change.”

  As Dave walked toward the pair, he had abso-fucking-lutely no clue what had spurred him or what he would do once he reached them. He wasn’t about to ask Ellie Hendricks out; she’d probably shut him down anyway. That lady wasn’t like the usual women he mingled with who were bowled over by a player’s celebrity or the flash of bills in his money clip. No, she’d only be swayed by behavior that came from the heart because she was real–which put her out of his reach. He’d just corral the rookie and make sure he didn’t make a pest of himself.

  An errant thought streaked through Dave’s mind as he locked on his target. Ellie was rocking her work books again, and yeah, she was hot in them. In everything. Visions of her in the tight pink sweater she’d worn when they car-shopped pranced in his head and damn if his horndog brain didn’t detour to her minus the work boots—along with the rest of her clothes. The sudden twitch in his pants had him admonishing himself. Down, boy.

  When he was about fifteen feet away, the Habitat dude stepped beside her and gave Viktor a silent signal that sent the rookie packing—something along the lines of “Back off, I was here first.”

  Dave’s heart dropped an elevator floor. Habitat Guy was smooth and classy—and looked like he had designs on Ellie. Dave might have seniority and rank over his teammates, but he had nothing on this guy. Probably a product of some Ivy League school. Probably spoke a bunch of foreign languages. Probably had manicured nails he never got dirty or greasy under the hood of a car.

  They hadn’t noticed him yet, and he argued with himself about doing a one-eighty and leaving them alone. Ellie pivoted so her back was to him, and he couldn’t help himself. His gaze dipped to her ass of its own volition. Even in her baggy cargo pants, the contours were easy to make out. She had a very fine ass, and his twitch grew a little more enthusiastic. He was so distracted he didn’t see her take a giant step back until she stomped on his toe and slammed against his chest.

  “Oof!” His forearms instinctively hinged up and cradled hers. She gasped and craned her head, and his hands automatically slid to her tiny waist. That felt nice. So did her back leaning against him. Thank God there was still daylight between his crotch and her butt, but he did catch a whiff of her rain-fresh fragrance and had to stifle the urge to bury his nose in her satiny ponytail.

  She spun from his grasp with an apology, putting distance between herself, him, and Habitat. Her cheeks were bright pink. Mad or embarrassed? Dave couldn’t tell, but her eyes kept darting to Habitat as though she were a mouse looking for an escape route around a determined cat.

  Dave eyed the dude, whose lips formed a hard, straight line that communicated he was none too happy Dave had crashed the party.

  Try me, fucker.

  Habitat hooded his eyes and seemed to shrink back. Dave took the opening and turned to Ellie. “We still going out after we’re done here?” Who the hell is running my mouth at the moment? The guy inside him who hated seeing women harassed by jerks they obviously didn’t want harassing them. He was being chivalrous. Right. That was it.

  His presumed damsel in distress gave him a blue-eyed, bewildere
d, “What?”

  No surprise. He was bewildered himself. “Dinner. You and me. Remember?” What the fuck?

  To his astonishment, she beamed at him. “Oh, that’s right. With all the craziness today, I nearly forgot.” Her eyes flashed as though the sun had just lit the sea, and his breath caught. He sure as hell hoped her unspoken message was “Thank you, Dave” and not “I’m calling the nutso wagon to haul your crazy ass away.”

  “Can’t wait.” He stuffed his hands in his front pockets and winced when his injury reminded him he had gone too hard at practice and the Habitat project. Ow, ow! Don’t be a wuss.

  “Well, I’ll check in with you in a few,” Habitat cooed at Ellie before shooting Dave a death glare.

  “Thanks, Damian.” She offered Damian a half-smile, and Dave took comfort in its lack of wattage, especially when he compared it to the brilliant one she’d turned on him, even though he’d made a complete idiot of himself.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “Dinner? What was that all about?”

  He flexed his sore hand. “You looked like you needed rescuing. And I’m holding you to that dinner.”

  Her lips tipped up. “I can handle myself.”

  “I’m sure you can—it appears you get a lot of practice at it—but it doesn’t hurt to have a pissed-off Wookiee on your side, does it?” He grinned despite the needles of pain shooting up his wrist. “Shit. Maybe I misread. Wouldn’t be the first time. Did you want those guys coming on to you?”

  “Who says they were coming on to me?”

  “Someone who understands what’s going through their minds.”

  She seemed to appraise him. “First you buy me a van, and now you chase away unwanted attention. How lucky can a girl get? I have my own personal superhero.” Her pretty lips formed a cute little smirk.

  Hearing her call him her superhero messed with his insides. He’d never been anyone’s superhero before. Unless that was sarcasm lurking in her sparkling blues. “Me?” He jabbed his thumb against his chest, and a groan got away from him.

  “What’s wrong?” Her expression morphed into unadulterated concern.

  He cradled the hand against his chest. Something was locking up and cramping. “Nothing. Just … my hand’s healing, and sometimes I do something stupid and … Mmph!” Ow! Fuck!

  She sprinted away. Yeah, he’d run away in her shoes too. Boots. She wasn’t gone long, though, and when she returned, she came bearing gifts: an ice pack and a bottled water.

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I can see that,” she replied dryly. “Hold these.” She shoved the water and ice at him and gently took his sore hand in both of hers, turning it palm up.

  He stared down at the top of her head. “What are you doing?”

  “Playing nurse.”

  A wholly inappropriate comeback about playing doctor nearly tumbled off the tip of his tongue.

  “What’s your hand healing from?” She kept her head down and ran her small thumb lightly over his palm, sending shivers chattering up his spine. Hard to believe something so little and soft could cause such a powerful reaction.

  “I, uh, re-broke it at the start of the season.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “And you’re out here shoveling? Are you a masochist?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “I thought I was a superhero.”

  “A superhero who needs his hard head examined, maybe. I’m guessing your doctor didn’t prescribe shoveling for your physical therapy.” She shook her head, and her ponytail swished, the strands reflecting different shades of yellow and rose gold. “You have to sit down and keep this ice pack on for at least ten minutes.” She pointed to a vacant chair by the check-in tent being repurposed by Serena and another young woman. They were stacking boxes of Sharpies, pucks, and cards, reminding him his hand still had some work to do.

  “You’re going to need that hand to sign lots of paraphernalia, so best ice it while you can,” Ellie said.

  “Memorabilia,” he corrected her.

  “Right. I knew that.”

  “I can’t sit and do nothing when my teammates are all working,” he balked. He glanced over at his teammates, whom he’d totally forgotten until this moment. Wyatt, Vik, and Hadley, with Sarah beside him, stood in a semicircle yukking it up.

  Ellie followed his gaze. “Pretty sure they’re all done. And so are you, Superman.”

  Bossy little thing. Of course she was bossy. She was used to running crews of men—some of them probably pretty rough—just like she’d been running the show all day. And running it well. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll just go tell them to pick up their tools and—”

  “Sit. Down.” The tone of her voice reminded him of a teacher ready to let her ruler fly on his ass, and he grinned.

  She perched her fists on her hips and glowered. Well, tried to. She might be tough, but she was too pretty to put on a very convincing tough face. “Don’t mess with me, Captain. For years, I worked summer camps filled with pubescent boys, and I’m used to dealing with troublemakers like you.” Her eyes held an unmistakable twinkle that made him chuckle. With a snappy pivot, she marched away from him, and he took in the view until Serena called him over. Fans were lining up, but he didn’t mind—he had dinner to look forward to. All in all, losing his mind was turning out well. For a change.

  Chapter 13

  A Quiet Dinner for Seven

  Dinner was not what Dave expected, though he should have because little went his way anymore. His biggest complaint? The table they shared was far more crowded than he would have liked. When the project had finally ended and they’d all stood in a cluster, he and Ellie going to dinner had become a topic of conversation. How that had happened, he had no idea because he hadn’t offered up their plans. The end result was that they were surrounded at the table by Quinn, Sarah, Viktor, Sonoma, and Finn, who had decided they had nothing better to do tonight than crash Dave’s date. Well, it wasn’t exactly a date, but it had had the potential of developing into one. Not that he’d planned on anything beyond spending time with a pretty lady over a meal. Why make his already complicated life even more complicated when he was preparing to leave Denver behind, along with everyone in it?

  At least he sat beside Ellie—the only win he’d scored, and he’d had to politely nudge Sarah out of the way to claim the privilege. On Ellie’s other side sat Viktor, who seemed to be trying to win a score of his own with her.

  Which brought to mind his second complaint: Viktor was monopolizing Ellie’s attention. While Dave hadn’t expected a good-night kiss at the end of this non-date—she’d insisted on driving on her own—he sure as hell didn’t want Viktor angling for one either.

  And now for his third complaint. Besides vying for the portion of Ellie’s attention not devoted to Viktor, Dave was competing with everyone else at the table for the remainder. As he’d showered off the day’s sweat and grime, he’d indulged pleasant images of getting Ellie alone, heads together across a dark, cozy table for two while sipping wine. Because, even though the practical side of him warned him away, he liked her—enough to want to get to know her a little more. He was getting to know her, but only because he overheard her answers to the questions she was fielding from everyone else. Finn didn’t participate in twenty questions, but he tossed in the occasional Ellie factoid. Which was another complaint Dave had. Dude was getting awfully friendly with Nome, but she glared at Dave every time he gave her a look that said, “I will beat his ass if he goes too far.”

  Ellie jerked his attention to the here and now when she leaned across him to share a conversation with Sarah. He sat back to give her line of sight, and her warmth and her sweet feminine fragrance invaded his senses. Maybe not the dinner he’d envisioned, but this was certainly a highlight.

  “Do you know Paige Miller,” Sarah was saying, “of Anderson Homes? They do a lot of rehabs and some new builds too.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen the signs around town, but I’ve never met her.
”

  “I think you need to. I work for her part-time, so I know she needs someone she can count on. She’s been going through landscapers like hockey players go through sticks. The fact that you do design is a huge plus. She has a great eye for what goes inside a house, but the outside, not so much.”

  Ellie’s blue eyes brightened. “Would you pass on my contact info?” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a few business cards, passing one to Sarah.

  Dave held out two fingers like a pair scissors. “Can I have one?”

  Ellie blinked at him.

  “In case I come across someone who needs landscaping work,” he added. “In fact, maybe I’d better have a few more.” He snagged the rest of her cards and quickly stowed them in his wallet before Vik could get his hands on one.

  “I’ll text you so you have my number too,” Sarah told Ellie. “We’re having a girls’ luncheon soon—just the P-team—and it would be great to have you join us and meet the other girls.”

  Dave’s brows knitted together. “What’s a ‘P-team’?”

  Sarah laughed. “Paige’s Powerhouse Playmakers, or something along those lines.”

  “I’m not a playmaker like Quinn, but do I get an invite?” he blurted, only half kidding.

  Sarah tapped him playfully. “Girls only. No men allowed. Besides, what do you know about house construction?”

  “I know how to disassemble a motor and put it back together. Does that count?”

  “Sorry, no. Skill set aside, you’ve got the Y chromosome, so you’re an automatic out.”

  He opened his mouth—to say what, he wasn’t sure—when Quinn gave him a chin bob and a smirk. “Don’t even try.” Ellie giggled, and Quinn threw an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and pulled her close, which left Ellie still leaning across Dave’s space with no one to talk to.