Instacrush (A Rookie Rebels Novel)

by Kate Meader

  “What does that mean?”

  Jordan tilted her head. “I’m assuming that lustful animal urges were in play prior to conception. No one is that fresh-faced and pure. Stop making Theo out to be some sort of saint.”

  “Why? Because Hunt, aka Father Theresa, has a lock on the do-gooder market?” Hunt was known for his good works and holy ways, spending much of his spare time volunteering at a homeless shelter. These hockey players were something else. “What I mean is that Theo’s the kind of guy who would bruise easily. He’s not tough enough. People will walk all over him and I’d hate to see him hurt.”

  Her friend shook her head. “You’re being far too kind to him and far too hard on yourself. So maybe you’re not compatible outside the bedroom—did this happen in a bedroom?”

  “It might have been the shower or the sofa or over the kitchen island,” she said morosely because now the great sex was tainted with the horror of conception. “Who’s to say which condom failed its job?”

  Jordan grinned, then turned serious. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t find common ground.”

  Not wanting to argue with her—Jordan was really too sweet to contradict—Elle refocused on the game. She didn’t understand everything that was going on, but the basics were obvious: put the puck into the opposing team’s net as often as possible.

  The visiting team, Detroit, was having a hard time getting anything by Theo. As soon as the puck came within five feet of him, he smothered it and blasted it out of his zone. There was something oddly comforting about that protectiveness. Theo with his thunderous thighs and bubble butt wasn’t letting these assaults on his defenses go unanswered.

  Best not to read into that. She had no doubt that Theo would do the best he could as a dad: he’d provide money and security and a better role model than she’d known herself.

  He had just blocked another shot to the raucous cheers of the crowd when the Jumbotron zeroed in on one section. Three women in hot pink jackets had their backs to the rink. Was that—no!

  “Is that Kershaw’s face on those jackets?”

  Jordan laughed. “Yep, Theo’s fan club. Led by his grandmother.”

  His grandmother was in the building?

  “Theo’s Tarts,” Elle murmured in recognition. “I had no idea.”

  The women were shaking their booties, the camera close enough to read a bejeweled “Thirsty for Theo” emblazoned beneath his pretty face. “That is wild.”

  “I’m going to have to invite them on the podcast,” Jordan said. “We’re all about celebrating the crazy in hockey.”

  And this was the world Elle was considering bringing a child into?

  Two minutes later, the period had ended and the other reporters were milling around the food table and cracking open beers. All except one: a bearded lumberjack type, who sat at the end of the viewing bar doing a thousand-yard-stare out onto the empty ice rink. In profile, he looked like he was carved from granite, his dark blond hair thick and lustrous on both his head and his jaw. He didn’t have a computer like everyone else, just a small notebook.

  Elle was about to ask Jordan about him, when her friend stood and stretched. “I’ve got to make a phone call. You okay here for a few?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Help yourself to the spread.”

  Once the wildebeest had made room at the trough, Elle stepped forward to check her options: a fair bit of healthy stuff like salads and grains, which made her shudder. The sushi looked good, but she’d read somewhere that raw fish was a big no-no in her condition.

  She sighed. Decision-ing while pregnant was hard.

  “Have the cookie,” a deep voice said behind her.

  She turned, sensing it would be the statue who had sparked her curiosity before and glad to get a better look at him. Tall with hard-packed muscle, he held himself tautly, fighting the confines of his suit jacket, which had the effect of making him look like a prisoner forced to wear a suit for court. Long-healed scars weathered the right side of his face near his ear and that nose had to have been broken multiple times.

  His dark brown eyes met hers, and she felt strangely soothed.

  “I want to take advantage of the free food,” she said. “A cookie seems to be letting them off easy.”

  “Wouldn’t want to do that, the bastards.”

  She laughed, pleased he’d run with her joke. “I’m in your way,” she said, moving aside.

  “Just headed to the fridge. Need something?”

  She shook her head, feeling sad about that. All these sacrifices when she’d vowed not to be shackled to anyone or anything. This was supposed to be her time!

  The nice stranger returned with a bottle of beer and handed off a water to her. “Best to stay hydrated. Staring at free food is thirsty work.”

  The bottle had barely touched her fingertips when the room swirled around her. The next thing she knew she was seated near the window. Her dizziness started to ease once she was settled.

  “Sorry, I didn’t eat much today,” she said to the stranger who stood over her, his face echoing his obvious concern. She’d felt nauseous earlier, and then nervous about what she could eat that wouldn’t make her more nervous or damage the peanut. How could she already care about this blob inside her—and how could she be so dumb to be already putting it at risk by starving herself?

  She was clearly not qualified to take care of herself, never mind a child.

  “You should drink some of this.” He unscrewed the water bottle and placed it in front of her.

  “I’m not usually this pathetic.”

  “Who said anything about pathetic?”

  “I’m a fainting sack of weakness, but I’m usually quite sturdy. Well, look at me.”

  He gave her body a cursory look, purely to be polite. There was no carnal interest in it. “We all have bad days, but you need to be careful. It’s not just about you now.”

  “Not sure what you mean,” she said defensively.

  “Fair enough.” He looked away toward the ice, giving her the time to think over what he’d said and her reaction to it.

  She took a sip of the water, a few deep breaths, and a furtive gander at his profile.

  “What are you, some sort of fetus whisperer? Or do I already look like a haunted mom-to-be?”

  “You do look a little peaky. I recognize the signs …” He reversed course. “You’ve been holding a hand over your stomach since you sat down. Figured you were feeling protective of something.”

  She was. Of her lost dreams now that this kid was demanding her time and attention.

  “I’m trying to decide what to do. It’s going to change my life and I’m not sure I’m …” Her voice petered out, unable to finish the thought.

  “What?”

  “Good enough,” she whispered. Embarrassed at her admission, she looked away.

  “Are you on your own?” When she refocused on him, he shook his head. “Not trying to ascertain your single status, just wondering if you have a support system.”

  As this guy was likely a reporter, chatting about the famous father of her child was probably not the savviest of moves.

  “I’m not completely alone. The other party would be involved but his job makes the full-time dad thing difficult. Plus, we’re not actually together. It wasn’t planned.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “It is.”

  He gazed out over the ice again. “Anything I can get for you? Anyone I can call?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks for saving me from falling flat on my ass.”

  “No problem. I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

  “Oh, okay.” It had been kind of nice having him there while she puzzled through it but she couldn’t beg a complete stranger to stick around. And then he was gone, the air a little chillier for his absence.

  A few minutes later, Jordan appeared just as the players were coming back on the ice. “What are you doing sitting down here?”

  “Just gett
ing a different perspective.”

  12

  Theo wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He rubbed his eyes again to check on the mirage before him: Elle Butler, his baby mama (and yes, he knew that was just asking for trouble to even think it) was in the locker room. She looked a little pale. Had something happened?

  He lowered his voice. “Are you okay?”

  “Quit yer clucking, Kershaw, I’m fine. Jordan invited me into the press box so I thought I’d finish off the evening with a look-see behind the curtain. And I don’t mean your towel.”

  Something in his chest lurched. She sounded like the funny, sharp-tongued Elle of old. “Are you saying you actually watched a game? But you hate hockey.”

  Her brow pleated, like she’d been caught out. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t know anything about it, and I figured I should check it out while I have such great connections.”

  He stepped in closer. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” she murmured with a quick glance around to make sure no one was in earshot. “The sour stuff actually helped. The ginger, too. Thanks for that.”

  “Good to hear it. I’ve been thinking of you all day.”

  She made a face. “I don’t want to distract you while you’re out there. What you’re doing is important.”

  “Is it?” Right this minute, it didn’t feel so important, except as a means to pay the bills and make sure Elle and his baby had the best possible life. He wanted to give them that, both of them.

  “Of course it’s important. Jordan told me you guys have a shot at the playoffs.”

  “Your luscious lips to God’s sexy ears.”

  She shook her head. “You’re so weird.”

  “I get that a lot.”

  That made her smile, which made him smile, and now they were two smiling fools.

  She gave a shifty look around. “So, we probably should talk.”

  “Definitely. Thing is, my—”

  “WHERE’S MY BOY?”

  Yep, there she was. He’d known she was here but how in the hell did she get access to the locker room? Aurora came flying at him, arms ready to bear hug him even though she was a third his size.

  “Gran! What are you doing back here?”

  “Darling, how many times have I told you that I don’t need you reminding the world that I’m old enough to be your grandmother?”

  He looked over her shoulder to find a smiling Harper Chase, also known as the Rebel Queen.

  “She texted,” Harper said.

  He mouthed “sorry.” Once he was acquired by the Rebels, his grandmother had insisted on constant contact with the powers that be, as in Coach, Harper, and Dante, all in the name of monitoring his health since his surgery. She texted his bosses weekly to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t: exercise, diet, or fun-wise.

  She meant well but damn, she could be exhausting. He held her back to take a better look at her. Smart grey bob, sharp blue eyes, hooker red lipstick, the scent of lemons that rolled back the years. She was also wearing that incredibly embarrassing jacket with his face on it, just like the Pink Ladies in Grease.

  Aurora wasn’t quite like other grandmothers. In elementary school, he’d been mortified every time she waltzed in with her Audrey Hepburn glasses and glamorpuss lips. Older than the other moms—he’d still thought she was his mom then—she’d reveled in defying convention, and after a while, Theo had gotten used to it. He soon figured out that he had enough personality not to have to worry about whether his friends thought she was weird and he was happy to put the beatdown on anyone who said a word against her.

  Having moved to Saugatuck from Chicago when Theo was three, no one knew that Aurora was his grandmother and that Candy, the woman he’d thought was his older sister, was his mom. When he found his birth certificate while looking for information about his father, it had crushed him that she’d lied.

  That they’d both lied.

  Forgiving Aurora came easier—or more quickly—than Candy. His grandmother was doing her best in a bad situation, but his mother? That betrayal had stung deep. He’d never gotten over it, and by the time he was ready to forgive her, it was too late. Candy was gone.

  Shaking off those ghosts, he asked, “Where’s the posse?”

  “Wandering around, flirting with security. Harper wouldn’t let them all in, worried about overwhelming the team. They can be a bit embarrassing.” Said with no irony whatsoever.

  He caught the eye of a grinning Elle.

  “Nice jacket,” she said to Aurora. “We could see it in all its glory from the press box.”

  “You think so?” Aurora gave a twirl. “Limited edition, though I could probably get one for a true fan.” She took a closer look. “Theodore, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

  “Aurora, this is Elle. She’s a … new to hockey and someone was giving her a tour.”

  “Elle? You mean, Elle, YOUR CHRISTMAS FLING?”

  Oh, Aurora, you treacherous big mouth.

  His gran grabbed Elle and pulled her into a hug. “Why, she is GORGEOUS, but a little pale. Are you feeling okay, dear? It looks like you should sit down.”

  “I’m fine,” Elle squeaked, shocked at being put on the spot. Elle glared at Theo, and all he could do was shrug back.

  “I might have mentioned my regret about leaving you alone. I’d already called Aurora at Christmas to make sure it was okay to bring you but you didn’t want to come and she could tell I was disappointed. She likes to draw her own conclusions.”

  Elle opened her mouth. Closed it again. So, he’d revealed too much there, but what the hell. Let her know he meant business. That if she wanted to keep this baby, he wouldn’t be half-assing it. He’d be superglutinous-to-the-maxing it.

  “I’m THRILLED you two kids are giving it a shot!”

  “Now, Aurora …” Theo warned.

  “We’re just friends,” Elle said quickly, her eyes pleading with him to be cool.

  “Yeah, we’re just friends. Stop being so pushy.”

  “I’m not! I just want you to find a NICE GIRL to settle down with.”

  Theo tried a tentative grin at Elle—wanna be that nice girl?—and she let him off the hook. “It was great to meet you, Mrs. Kershaw.”

  “It’s Aurora, darling, and let me know if you want a jacket. We could make you an honorary member of the crew.” To Theo, she winked and said, “I’ll see you outside, baby boy.”

  “Sure thing, grandmother.”

  “Oh, he’s mad at me.” She nudged Elle conspiratorially. “Calls me ‘grandmother’ when he’s annoyed.” With a classic cheek-pinch to seal the deal, she was gone.

  He turned back to Elle who was cracking up. “Does she have any idea what “thirsty” means?”

  “She saw it on Twitter and thought it was perfect because she’s all about the alliteration. And she’ll make you a jacket whether you want it or not.”

  “I’ll wear it with pride, baby boy.”

  So she was kidding but he still liked the sound of that.

  “It’s kind of cool that you’re here, y’know,” he said quietly, feeling hope blooming in his chest.

  She shrugged it off. “So I still don’t know much about hockey but I could tell that you seem to know what you’re doing out there.”

  He did know. But he also sensed that he’d passed some test with Elle. As for the subject, he couldn’t quite say.

  13

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  Non-game nights at the Empty Net were often as busy as game nights, mostly because the players hung out there and the fans knew what they wanted.

  To get up close and personal with their favorites.

  Theo was one of those favorites. Looking at his Instagram page and his one million plus followers was a revelation to Elle. So many photos of biceps and abs and so much squeeing and hearts and
fire emojis in response. It had been both a relief and a disappointment not to see much of him in the weeks since they’d connected horizontally.

  But since the big reveal, he was here every night the team wasn’t playing or traveling. Worse, she was actually looking forward to seeing him. How ridiculous was that?

  She was just finishing slicing up limes behind the bar when a message came in from Dee: We need to talk, Eloise.

  Even by text, her mother managed to sound imperious. Not wanting to answer the summons immediately, she spent a few minutes loading the imports fridge with Newcastle Brown Ale. Done, she turned to Tina.

  “Mind if I take five before the madness begins?” By eight it would be wall-to-wall and breaks would be impossible.

  Tina nodded, and Elle headed back to the office to call her mother back.

  “Eloise, have you heard from your sister?”

  No hello, no preamble. Me? Oh, I’m just fine, Mom.

  “A couple of days ago. Why? Is something wrong?”

  “She’s not answering my calls. Maybe she has something on the hook and she’s trying to go it alone.” Dee and George never appreciated being cut out of a con. “I heard you made up, though. Did you give her your holier-than-thou fire-and-brimstone act?”

  “Not an act, Mom. I really am holier than thou.”

  “How I raised such different girls I will never know.”

  Elle had heard a version of this every day of her waking life. Amelia was the more talented one: slim, beautiful, fatally charming. Where Amy’s attributes were an obvious boon to the family business, Elle’s were useless.

  A conscience tended to get in the way of criminal activity.

  Elle eyed the Rebels calendar hanging on the wall of the back office, annotated with reminders about beer distributor deliveries and the team’s game schedule. Absently, she flipped through the calendar but it was Theo-free, made before he was acquired. That Vadim Petrov was pretty fine, though.

  “How’s Dad?”

  “His heart is weak. Weakened more since our latest job dried up.”

  Her own heart squeezed. She knew it was pure manipulation on the part of her mother, but like all family, she had the capacity to push buttons that no one else knew the shape of.