Not a Player (Laketown Hockey Book 1)

by A. J. Wynter

  “Yep.”

  My heart sank when he agreed with me.

  “We shouldn’t do this again, right?” Please disagree. Please disagree.

  “Probably not.”

  A distant boat’s rolling waves lapped against the hull of Kane’s boat, slowly rocking it back and forth. Neither of us said a word. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, trying to commit it to memory, and wondering if this was the last time I’d ever be this close to him.

  I don’t remember the moment when I fell asleep, but I do remember the moment I was abruptly woken up.

  “Oh, shit,” Kane shouted. The vibration in his chest traveled through my entire body and my eyes snapped open. “It will be okay, Jessie.” Kane shot to his feet and I blinked, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

  Chapter 21 – Kane

  Puffy marshmallow clouds bumbled their way across the sky, and I played with Jessie’s hair as she slept on my chest. This girl was different. This girl jumped into the lake in her clothes to save me. Her breaths were slow and rhythmic and even though my arm had fallen asleep at least half an hour earlier, I couldn’t bring myself to disturb her.

  I was content letting the boat drift while holding Jessie in my arms. She was wrong, there really wasn’t a good reason why we shouldn’t be together. Screw the hockey bro-code. Dylan was probably going to get kicked off the team anyway. Jessie Moss and I belonged together, and I would prove it to her.

  I let my eyes fall shut for what I thought was just a moment, but when I opened them again, the puffy clouds had been replaced with angry dark I’m going to rain the fuck all over you clouds.

  I told her everything was going to be okay and then glanced around. Lake Casper was about thirty miles across at its widest point and somehow, we had drifted into the middle. I scanned the distant shoreline for any defining markers, anything that would tell me which direction I needed to head – and fast. Glancing at the sky didn’t help, the sun was long gone, and a flash of heat lighting flickered high in the atmosphere.

  “Come on, Jessie, get under here,” I pulled up the bikini top, snapped it into place, and started the engine. The lighthouse at the north end of the lake flashed in my peripheral vision. Thank God, I thought to myself and turned the boat southbound, gunning the engine. The rain line chased us down the lake, inching closer and closer by the second. The wakeboard boat wasn’t meant for high speed runs across choppy water and it was a rough ride, but once we were in the channel, the waves subsided but the rain didn’t stop her chase and finally caught us. The first few drops plopped heavily onto the windshield of the boat before the monsoon unleashed its fury directly on top of us. Sheets of rain danced on the lake and rain battered the windshield like wet ball bearings.

  Jessie turned to me; her green eyes vibrant in all of the gray. “This is awesome,” she grinned.

  “So are you,” I said under my breath.

  Back in the shelter of the boathouse, Jessie hopped out of the boat and quickly tied the lines. “Nice knot,” I pointed to her expertly tied daisy chain.

  “My dad was a marine mechanic,” she smiled. “I used to help him at work and sometimes I pumped gas at the marina.”

  “You’ve never pumped gas for me.” I gathered up our wet clothes and squeezed the water from them into the open water of the boathouse slip.

  “How do you know that?”

  My t-shirt clung tightly to her small body in all the right places. As she stepped out of the boat, I was a gentleman and averted my gaze just before I got a glimpse of anything higher than her well-developed figure skater thighs. Of course, I wanted to fuck her on my boat. It was a fantasy of mine that I’d never fulfilled, but my brain was glad that we didn’t – my cock on the other hand was furious and I shifted uncomfortably as it throbbed in frustration.

  “Let’s wait here until the rain lets up,” I suggested, knowing that my towel was not doing a particularly good job hiding my raging boner.

  “What for? We’re already soaked.” She pulled at the t-shirt and it clung to her and snapped back against her body causing my cock to twitch a little harder.

  “Come on then.” I grabbed her hand and she squealed as we ran up the pathway to the main cottage. Our bare feet slapped on the flagstone pathway and she had no problem keeping up with me. My towel, on the other hand, gave way to the intense soaking and dropped to the ground. “Shit.”

  I turned to grab it, but we were already three steps ahead. My stiff cock rejoiced in its freedom, standing tall in his own personal rain dance. Jessie clapped her hand over her mouth and turned away. The fat raindrops continued hitting the path and water ran down both of our faces.

  Jessie let go of my hand and backtracked to the dripping wet towel. With her eyes squeezed shut she tossed it to me, hard, and it slapped into my chest with a wet thud that almost knocked me over.

  Jessie’s hands returned to cover her eyes. She looked fucking adorable, the sopping shirt nearly reached her knees now, and her hair was plastered down her face. I knew she was going to tell me that we couldn’t be together, but if she left my cottage today and I didn’t get to kiss those lips again, I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I dropped the towel and our clothes on the pathway with a sloppy thud and took her cheeks in my hands. She peeked between her fingers, her green eyes locking with mine. “Kane,” she moaned as she grabbed onto my wrists.

  I didn’t let her finish.

  Hungry. That’s how I felt, and I think she did too. I kissed her as though I would never kiss another woman again – and she kissed me like she was starving. It didn’t seem possible, but the rain started to fall harder with buckets from the sky dumped on us. Her face was wet and slick in my palms, but the warmth of her lips a haven in the storm. At this point, my cock was rock fucking hard. She squeezed her hands into my lower back and when she pulled my body to hers, my dick fucking throbbed for her.

  Wanting a woman is one thing. Needing her is another – and I needed Jessie. She squealed as I scooped her up in my arms and carried her the rest of the way to the main cottage.

  Her face was buried in my neck and she didn’t move it even when we were in the safety and warmth of the cottage. Leaving puddles behind me, I took Jessie to my bedroom. With her feet safely planted on the rustic floorboards, Jessie’s modesty returned, and she averted her gaze from my buck-naked body. I helped her into my terrycloth robe, cinching the belt tightly around her small waist.

  “I’ll be right back,” I whispered into her ear and headed to the linen closet to find some more towels. But, before I left the bedroom, I glanced back and caught her following my every move.

  “Hurry,” she smiled, her dimples denting her freckled cheeks.

  I glanced around the linen closet for any of Pine Hill’s monogrammed guest robes. This will have to do, I thought to myself as I pulled on the only robe I could find – a pink fluffy one and armed myself with a stack of towels.

  She was standing exactly where I left her.

  “Where are your matching kitten heel slippers?”

  I handed her a towel. “Kitten heels?”

  “Right, I forgot I’m dealing with a dude.” Her smile lit up her entire face. “They’re the little tiny heels that all the housewives wore in the fifties.”

  “Kitten heel this.” I grabbed her hips and yanked her hard against me, my mouth covering hers. I slipped my hand inside the front of the robe and Jessie moaned into my mouth as my palm cupped her breast.

  “Kane,” she whispered.

  “Jessie.” my voice was raspier than I expected.

  She tucked her chin, pulling her lips away from mine. I knew what she was going to say, so I beat her to it. “We shouldn’t do this?” I stated. “Why, Jessie? Give me one good reason.” She was killing me. My erection throbbed against the fluffy pink fabric, threatening to make an appearance through the opening.

  “I really like you,” she whispered.

  “I really like you too.” I cupped her face and rubbed
her cheek with my thumb.

  “But...” she held onto my wrist and her gaze fell to our bare feet.

  “Kane?”

  Her gaze snapped to mine, her eyes wide.

  “Kane?” My father’s voice echoed through the cottage.

  “Who’s that?” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. It’s just my dad.”

  “Your dad?” she hissed. She let go of my hand and pulled the robe tighter against her body.

  “Wait here.” I kissed her on the cheek.

  “What is all this water doing on the floor? KANE?” I shut the door quietly behind me, leaving Jessie, and her explanation hidden away in my room.

  Chapter 22 – Jessie

  Two different worlds. He would never understand. My dad was a mechanic who fixed his dad’s boats. I fried pickerel all summer to make ends meet. He tinkered with one of his seven cars and belonged to the country club. Pine Hill oozed old money. My house, it oozed, well, no money.

  I sat down on Kane’s bed perfectly made by the housekeeper and looked around his room. Other than the fact that it was ten times bigger than mine, Kane’s room wasn’t so different. Trophies lined the walls of both of our rooms. I picked up the beveled glass award that sat on Kane’s nightstand and ran my fingers across the engraved ‘Player of the Year’ stamp.

  The Laketown Otters’ photo was prominently displayed on his dresser and Kane’s face popped amongst the players, his eyes and million-dollar grin standing out in the sea of blue and white. Kane was going to be a star.

  If I didn’t make it to the Olympics, I would just be another Laketown townie. If I were lucky, maybe I could get a job waitressing at Valerock, and when my looks started to fade, I would probably get a job as a secretary somewhere.

  I set the award down. Kane didn’t want a townie. But an Olympic figure skater, that would be enough to bridge the class gap between us. My bruised hip throbbed as if to prove the point that my Olympic dream was slipping through my fingertips.

  I leaned to press my face into his pillow, inhaling his scent. My body ached for his, but I knew I couldn’t do something casual and that’s all this would ever be.

  “Gimme a second.” I heard Kane’s voice from the other side of the door and shot from his bed, smoothing out any sign that I had just been nuzzling his pillow.

  “Hey.” He stepped inside the room and closed the door. “Um...” he rubbed the back of his neck. “My dad and stepmom are here.”

  “I kind of figured that out.” My chest tightened as I realized that my clothes were somewhere between the main cottage and the boathouse. “I thought that they didn’t come here?” My mind raced, wondering could I jump out the window? How was I going to get past Kane’s parents wearing nothing but a bathrobe?

  “They don’t. My stepmom hates it here, but the water main broke at their main house.”

  I sat down on his bed. “How am I going to get out here?”

  “Get out of here?” Kane disappeared into his walk-in closet. “Jessie, we’re not in high school anymore. Come and meet them. You’ll like my dad, my stepmom...” he hesitated, “well, you’ll see...”

  “Meet your parents?” My heart leaped directly into my throat. “In this?” I smoothed my hands over his gigantic soft robe.

  Kane emerged from his closet and handed me a pair of sweatpants, a Laketown Otters t-shirt, and a hoodie. I held up the giant sweatshirt in front of me, “Seriously?”

  “Would you rather go out in the robe?”

  I glanced at the window again, it was looking like a better option.

  “Come on, Jessie. I want to introduce you to my dad. He’s been asking me about the power skating lessons and I told him that you were the best thing to happen to my career in years.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course. Although I may have left out the fact that...” There it was again, the neck rub, Kane’s ‘tell’. He was nervous.

  “That what?”

  “He assumed you were a man and I didn’t correct him.” Kane shrugged.

  It wasn’t the first time this had happened to me and sometimes I liked the fact that Jessie or Jesse confused people. I put my hands on my hips. “Why, are you embarrassed?”

  “I was,” Kane admitted. “But that was before I found out that you really know your stuff.”

  “How are we going to explain this?” I pulled the sweatpants up under the robe. Even though he had seen enough of my body to piece together what I looked like naked, I still asked him to turn around while I got dressed in his Otters’ stalker starter pack.

  “The truth,” Kane smiled and grabbed my hand. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

  I padded behind Kane. How was he going to introduce me? How was he going to explain why my hair was soaking wet and why I was wearing his clothes. Kane opened the door to the screened-in porch and I took a deep breath as I stepped out in front of Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald looking like a sewer rat.

  “Dad, this is Jessie Moss.”

  I did a quick double-take between Kane and his father. Mr. Fitzgerald could’ve passed as Kane’s older brother. “Pleased to meet you, Jessie,” Mr. Fitzgerald stood and shook my hand. His eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Kane’s, but his had crinkles at the side.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  “Please, it’s Kent.” His smile was just as warm and bright as Kane’s. “This is my wife, Tiffany.”

  “Pleasure.” Tiffany stood and shook my hand, but unlike Kent’s, her handshake was cold and limp like pickerel before it was fried. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Tiffany clomped by us in her high heel wedges and stepped into the cottage, but her cloud of Chanel Mademoiselle lingered long after she disappeared.

  “Please, have a seat, Jessie,” Kent Fitzgerald gestured to one of the white wicker chairs. “I’m having Margie make up some coffee.”

  The instant comfort I felt around Mr. Fitzgerald unnerved me. Was it because he could’ve been Kane’s older brother? “I’d love some coffee,” I smiled and held my hands together in my lap amongst the sea of sweat pant fabric.

  “Looks like you two could use some.” He raised his eyebrows and the wicker creaked as he relaxed back into the floral cushions. “Rough morning?”

  I glanced at Kane and shot him my best ‘what the hell’ look, but Kane didn’t see it. What did he mean by ‘rough morning?’ Did his dad think we had spent the whole morning in bed?

  An oblivious Kane started digging us into a hole. “She sure cracked the whip this morning, dad.” Kane laughed. “I’m beat.”

  I shot him another shut up look, wishing I could facepalm, and he furrowed his brow at me.

  “Is that so?” Kane’s dad looked puzzled.

  “Her stroking technique is a little unorthodox, I’ll give you that.” Kane leaned back and grinned at me.

  I was mortified.

  “Son, why don’t you change out of your stepmom’s robe, and when you return with coffee for your guest, please bring your manners.”

  My eyes met Kane’s and that’s when he realized that everything he had just said had been misinterpreted as a sexual innuendo.

  “Dad, she’s my skating coach. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He brushed it off and disappeared into the cottage.

  I ran my fingers along the arm of the wicker chair and spoke without looking up. “I’m Jessie Moss. Kane’s power skating coach. And this...” I held out the sweatshirt. “We got caught in the rain in the boat this morning. My clothes are soaked.” I didn’t mention that they were in a pile on the floor of the wakeboard boat.

  I heard the chuckle and let myself look at Mr. Fitzgerald. He rubbed the back of his neck just like Kane. “I guess now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.” He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. “How is he doing then? With the... stroking.”

  Even though we had shifted into skating talk, both of our cheeks were the same shade of red.

  I giggled nervously. “He’s doing great.” It was true. “All he
needed was a couple of tweaks and I’ve already noticed a huge improvement in his maneuverability.”

  “He works hard that kid.” Kent smiled and I could hear the pride in his voice.

  “It’s only a matter of time before he’s drafted.” Even as I said it, I felt a sense of sadness. Ten years from now some reporter might ask him about his path to superstardom and I would be nothing but a blip on the radar.

  “If that’s what he wants,” Kent said.

  I was shocked. I thought that part of Kane’s drive was to please his father, who had played professional hockey himself.

  “If that’s what who wants?” Tiffany was back and had changed into white jeans and a floral tank top. She sat on the wicker love seat next to Kent and draped her manicured hand over his leg, her wrist limp as though her dime-sized diamond was weighing down her hand.

  “Kane.,” Mr. Fitzgerald clarified. “If he wants to play professional hockey or not – it’s up to him.

  “Please,” Tiffany groaned and then let out a terrible fake-sounding laugh. “That’s all that boy can do.”

  It was slight, but I saw the way Kent shifted away from his wife. “Tiffany.” His voice was low.

  “Don’t Tiffany me,” she grinned at me and lightly slapped Kent’s knee. “What’s he going to do? Go to business school?” That laugh again.

  “If he wants to, yes.” Kent crossed his arms across his chest. “Where’s Kane with those coffees?”

  As if on cue, the screen door creaked and Kane gingerly stepped through, holding a serving tray of four coffees as well as a crystal cream and sugar set. He placed the tray on the coffee table. “Jessie, what do you take in your coffee?”

  “Just black,” I replied. He handed me a bone china mug.

  “Dad, Tiffany, yours are ready to go.” He pointed to the steaming cups.

  “You should let Margie do this.” Tiffany’s eye roll was slight, but I still caught it. I took a sip of my coffee and shivered as she trained her gaze on me. “That’s a cute outfit sweetie. Is that what the kids are wearing these days?”