The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

  He scanned the endless columns of numbers until his vision blurred and he stopped to rub his eyes. Christ, he needed sleep. He tilted back in his chair and his eyes immediately slid shut. He’d been up late every night for the past two weeks attempting to get on top of this pile. Maybe it was time to admit defeat, get some rest, and make a fresh run at it tomorrow.

  He was just about to give in to the fantasy of going to bed early when his phone rang. He reached for it without opening his eyes.

  “LeBlanc.”

  “Garrick! Hello. Did I catch you at a good time?” There was no need for the caller to identify himself. Anyone who knew Rupert Smythe would recognize his very proper British accent.

  “Hey, Rupert. What’s up?”

  “Yes, well, I wanted to speak with you about something. If you have a moment.”

  Garrick’s eyes snapped open and his feet returned to the floor with a thump. Rupert only sounded this uptight and excruciatingly polite when he was upset or about to share bad news. Garrick rubbed his eyes. He shouldn’t have answered the damn phone.

  “What’s up?”

  “I have a bit of a family situation. A brother gone missing.”

  Garrick hadn’t known Rupert had a brother. “Couldn’t he be on vacation or something? Run off with some woman?”

  “He’s four.”

  “Ah.” Rupert had to be a few years into his thirties, but Garrick kept the obvious—and nosy—questions to himself.

  “As you can imagine, I’m a bit concerned. I need to see if I can find him and his mother.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  He could appreciate Rupert’s situation, but he didn’t like where this was going. Rupert was due in Moncton this week to take on the role of the Ice Cats’ manager.

  “I’m sure it’s just a mix up and I’ll find them in a matter of days, but I’m going to have to fly back to London to start. My best guess is I won’t be in Moncton for another week or two. I can do the job from abroad, mostly, but obviously, it won’t be the same as being there.”

  “But Mark’s last day is this week.” Garrick snapped his mouth shut, horrified at how close he’d come to whining.

  “Yes, I know. I’ll call and ask if he can stick it out.”

  Mark was already arriving at his new job a week later than they wanted. No way in hell he was going to stick anything out—least of all his neck—when his new employers were waiting.

  Garrick sighed. He was a fucking idiot, but he made the offer anyway. “I’ll cover for you where I can, but you’re going to have to call in all the decisions.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Mark was the only one associated with the team who knew the identities of the new owners. Garrick had been more or less managing the team alongside Mark for the better part of two weeks while Mark packed up his life and got ready to move. What would a couple more weeks do?

  Except maybe kill him from exhaustion.

  For some reason, Savannah’s suggestion that he take a lover popped into his head. He almost laughed out loud. He’d have to schedule gay sex right between showering and paperwork.

  Who was he kidding?

  Half his mind already on the tasks before him, his dream of going to bed crushed, he muttered a few more reassurances to Rupert and said goodnight.

  He’d barely dug into the bids when a car horn sounded from out front.

  Jesus. Welcome to Grand Central Station. Didn’t anyone fucking sleep anymore? He was never going to get shit done with all these distractions.

  He stood and stretched. The only consolation was that, in this case, he was happy to have company for his misery. He’d recognized the signature three-honk greeting and this would be just the man for the job.

  He opened his front door and waved to Jack Chevalier as he hopped out of his truck. He and Jack had grown up together, and he was Garrick’s oldest friend.

  “Evening,” Jack called as he mounted the porch stairs two at a time.

  Must be nice to have that kind of energy. “Hey, you’re just the person I need.”

  “I am?” Jack asked, hesitating at the threshold.

  Garrick stood back and gestured him into the house. “Yeah, I was reviewing the construction bids.”

  Jack stood awkwardly in the small front hall, noticeably not taking off his coat. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Garrick knew that tone of voice. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, Jack. To whatever you’re going to say, no. No, you can’t quit. No, you’re not the wrong man for the job. No, you’re not missing a single qualification we need. No, none of the other partners are worried about it either.”

  Jack’s lips twitched. “I can’t decide if it’s flattering or frightening that you knew what I was going to say.”

  Garrick didn’t have to be a genius to figure it out, since they’d already been over this three times in the last two weeks alone.

  “Jack, you’re the perfect project manager. We need someone we can trust, who knows the city and the players in it, and who has experience in food service and construction.”

  “And an inexperienced ex-con with no degree is it, huh?”

  Garrick resisted the temptation to smack his friend in the back of the head. “You have the experience. You worked for your old man’s construction company for years.”

  “When I was a teenager.”

  “And you’ve taken classes in hotel and restaurant management.”

  “In prison.”

  “And I’d trust you with my life.”

  At least Jack had no argument for that. Garrick waited, not taking a real breath until Jack peeled off his coat and tossed it on the bench.

  “Okay, it’s your money.”

  Garrick grunted. “I’m not worried.”

  He led the way to his kitchen to make coffee. Jack stood back and watched him.

  “You look tired,” Jack said.

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  Jack grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. For the first time in years, Garrick was struck by how handsome he was. Savannah had given Garrick a ration of shit for not warning her before she met Jack that he was, in her words, that gorgeous. When he smiled like that, Garrick could see what she meant.

  He thought about Savannah’s offer again. It had been a long, long time since he and Jack had talked about sex. Long enough ago that it had been the bragging of young men who didn’t know better. Now it occurred to Garrick that he hadn’t seen Jack with a woman—or a man—since he’d regained his freedom.

  Jack cocked his head and looked at him oddly. Garrick realized he’d been staring.

  Goddamn Savannah. She was going to be the death of him.

  Turning back to the coffee, he considered whether he could be with Jack. He immediately discarded the idea. Jack was beautiful. And a great guy. A good friend. But he was like a brother to Garrick, and thinking about him that way was kind of creepy.

  Another man’s face popped into his head again and he slammed the kettle back on the stove with a thunk.

  What was the matter with him? Savannah suggested he take a lover and now he couldn’t stop picturing the straightest arrow he’d ever met.

  Idiot.

  Rhian yanked his duffel from the closet and tossed it on his bed. The Ice Cats were hitting the road tomorrow and he needed to pack.

  Seven minutes later, he dropped the bag by his front door and wondered what the hell he was going to do with the rest of his night. Looking around the apartment, he frowned at the butt-ugly furniture and artwork. He’d rented the place furnished, and the only thing he’d added was the huge TV in the living room. It was the first and only thing he’d ever purchased that wasn’t either a necessity, something to further his hockey career, or that kept him safe.

  Collapsing on the couch, he turned on his pride and joy and began a vigorous channel-surfing session. He couldn’t find a damn thing he wanted to watch tonight, but he kept going.

  Seeing St
eve had unsettled him, which was ridiculous and infuriating. Steve had no hold over him. Hell, they were practically strangers. They hadn’t laid eyes on each other in years, and contrary to Steve’s assertion, being in the same foster home for a few months did not make them anything like family.

  Maybe that was it. The “brothers” thing had really thrown Rhian for a loop. What was that shit? Totally bizarre.

  He paused in his rush through the channels when a lot of naked skin popped up on the screen. A woman pretended to be in ecstasy while she rode some guy in a reverse cowgirl position.

  Rhian’s dick twitched—more like reflex than any real interest—before he moved on to the next channel.

  Maybe that was his problem? Normally, he’d indulge in the occasional hook up to take the edge off, but he hadn’t in months.

  And he definitely had an edge to grind tonight.

  He would go out while they were on the road, he decided, trying to psyche himself up. He could find a woman interested in a little fun, and together they could achieve some mutual satisfaction.

  And wow, that idea left him totally cold. His dick didn’t even bother with the reflexive twitch this time.

  What was the matter with him? For some reason, these days he’d rather hang out with his friends than get laid. Which was weird. Dry spells were hardly unheard of, but the hanging out with friends thing? That was new for Rhian.

  In fact, Garrick was the nearest thing to a close friend Rhian had ever had, and he had no idea how it had happened. He’d arrived in Moncton a year ago, content to do his usual thing—keep to himself, play hard, move on and, hopefully, up. Then Garrick had sucked him in and before he knew what had hit him, it was beers out with the team, watching football games, and poker night at Garrick’s place.

  Next thing he knew, he was one of the guys. And enjoying the hell out of it, too.

  Except for nights like tonight, when he was forced to admit friends were a lot like roots, and Rhian didn’t do roots. He knew better.

  No attachments. No entanglements.

  Now it would be hard to leave when the time came. Well, maybe not hard, but not as easy as it should have been.

  Rhian could pack up his entire life, including the stupid TV, in ninety minutes. Two hours, max, and he’d be ready to move. It was best to be prepared. Ready to bug out. Follow the hockey, the money, the safety.

  He had no knick-knacks, no childhood trophies—though he’d earned plenty, they’d all been stolen, destroyed, or tossed out—nothing to slow him down.

  Until now. Now he’d have to say goodbye to his friends. He’d have to figure out a way to stay in touch, at least with Garrick. And that was different. So different, he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

  He hadn’t realized how much had changed until Garrick had stopped showing up at all the shit he used to drag Rhian to. Now, Rhian wanted to go out and have a beer, he wanted to spend time with people—with Garrick. But his friend, the heart of their group, the reason Rhian was suddenly all fucked up about this shit, had disappeared.

  Fucking Garrick. Bad enough the guy was so in love with Savannah he practically walked around with stars in his eyes, now he was blowing off his friends so he could go home and moon over her?

  Not that Rhian didn’t like Savannah. He did. Hell, he could even understand why a man might moon over her, too. She was gorgeous, sexy, smart, and on the short list of people Rhian now thought of as a friend. He’d even hit on her once, but she’d shot him down. That Garrick had worked his way past her considerable defenses was something of a miracle.

  Even more miraculous was that Rhian missed her. Another new thing. Missing someone.

  Rhian shook his head. He knew better. No attachments. No things. At any moment he could move to a new apartment, a new city.

  For the first time in his life, the promise of another fresh start sounded less shiny and fresh, and more…lonely.

  Chapter Three

  Rhian chucked his duffel into the luggage compartment under the team bus and went to the door. Before he could climb aboard, though, something—or, rather, someone—in the parking lot caught his eye.

  Apologizing to the guys behind him, he stepped out of line. Deena’s eyes widened when she saw him coming toward her, but she stood her ground, her chin tilted at a defiant angle.

  The dead-eyed stare and the attitude were considerably undermined by her badly swollen, blackened right eye.

  Rhian felt sick. “Are you okay?”

  She laughed, the sound strident in the cold morning air. “I’m fine.”

  “Did Steve—”

  “That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

  She was right, of course. He forced himself to respect that, even while he hated it. If he saw Steve again Rhian would ask him, and regardless of the asshole’s answer, try to convince him to go the fuck away.

  “You should have it looked at,” he offered lamely. He wished Savannah were still the team’s trainer. She’d have jumped in and not made either of them feel stupid.

  “Fuck you.”

  Or maybe not.

  He sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I never thought—”

  Deena laughed again. “Relax, Rhee-Ann. Some girls like it rough. If you ever got laid, maybe you’d know that.”

  He didn’t rise to the bait. He’d been here before, with Steve, with other kids in the homes. “If you need help, you can come to me.”

  Deena rolled her eyes. “Did you hear a word I said?”

  He had. He’d heard all the things she hadn’t said, too. And he’d known she wouldn’t thank him. That wasn’t why he’d offered. “I just wanted you to know.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m all set.”

  Rhian shrugged. “Offer stands.”

  He caught another eye roll as he turned away. He ignored it. The creeping dread wasn’t as easy to shake off. This was his old life. The one he’d worked so hard to leave behind. The one he’d sworn he’d never go back to. Now his past was a black smudge polluting his time in Moncton.

  Goddamn Steve. Goddamn Deena for not kicking Steve in the nuts and walking away. For not accepting help.

  Head down, fists jammed into his coat pockets, he got back into line to get on the bus.

  A shoulder bumped into his. “Hey, Rhi.”

  Rhian looked up at Garrick. He couldn’t imagine what his friend saw on his face. Frustration. Anger. Maybe shock that the simple gesture from a good friend could make him feel better. Whatever it was, Garrick’s hand landed on his shoulder and gripped tightly.

  “You okay?” Garrick asked. He glanced over Rhian’s shoulder and his eyes widened. He’d obviously spotted Deena.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Garrick searched his face. Rhian really didn’t want to get into it now, but he also didn’t want Garrick to think he had anything to do with that black eye. “I left her at the bar last night with someone I used to know,” he said by way of explanation.

  Garrick frowned and glanced at Deena. “I’m assuming she didn’t look like that when you did.”

  Rhian sighed. “No. I never thought…I wouldn’t....”

  “Of course.” Garrick squeezed his shoulder again.

  It was their turn to get on the bus. Garrick let go of his shoulder and Rhian felt like he’d been cut loose from his mooring. More than just being pathetic, it rattled him that Garrick’s support mattered so much.

  Moving on autopilot, he went to a window seat in the middle of the bus and looked back at Garrick. They didn’t have assigned seating or anything, and they didn’t always sit with the same guys, but he and Garrick sat together more often than not.

  He was surprised when Garrick hesitated at the front of the bus where team management and the coaching staff usually sat. Rhian belatedly noticed the bulging leather bag overflowing with paperwork swinging from Garrick’s shoulder.

  Garrick glanced up at Rhian, his deep brown eyes telegraphing his concern. With a final glance at the empty front row, he moved farther
along the aisle to the seat next to Rhian.

  Rhian ignored the wave of relief and turned to make room for Garrick. He eyed his friend’s briefcase. “You forget to pay your bills?” He quirked an eyebrow. “For the last six months?”

  Garrick chuckled. “Something like that.” He shoved the bag into the overhead compartment. “But it can wait until later.”

  Rhian wondered when that would be, since they were either at events, on the ice, or on the bus for most of the next three days. He didn’t ask. Selfishly, he wanted Garrick to distract him. Just for a little while. Just long enough to leave Moncton behind for a couple days and pretend the black cloud of Steve’s arrival might clear out while they were gone.

  Garrick plunked down in the seat next to Rhian and scrubbed his hands over his face. He should be sitting up at the front of the bus getting work done, but he hadn’t been able to resist sitting with his friends. With Rhian.

  The thing with Deena sucked. He wanted to ask if he could do anything, but he figured he knew the answer. He couldn’t remember Rhian ever being as upset. Rhian generally kept whatever he was feeling or thinking to himself. Hell, it had taken months after his arrival in Moncton for Rhian to relax enough to talk about anything other than hockey.

  In fact, almost a year later, Garrick still knew very little about Rhian. His comment about seeing someone he used to know made Garrick realize he’d never met anyone from Rhian’s life. No friends. Family. Former teammates. No one.

  He studied his friend, who stood with one knee on his seat cushion, twisted toward Garrick as he spoke to the guys sitting behind them.

  Garrick’s nose was right at the height of Rhian’s cock. His brain went sideways. Not that he could see anything behind the denim pulled tight across Rhian’s hips, but Garrick had an excellent imagination. And even without that, he had a keen appreciation for that tight belly and those lean hips. If he closed his eyes, he could picture them perfectly, regardless of how studiously he’d tried not to notice any such thing in the locker room.

  Garrick was fit. Most of the team was somewhere between beefy and buff. Rhian, though, was ripped. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Garrick knew. He’d looked and looked and never found a one.