The Rebel: A Second Chance Hockey Romance (Looking to Score Book 1)

by Kendall Ryan

  My phone buzzes with a notification from the front desk that the pizza has arrived, and I make my way back through the living room to the front door, pulling it open as I hear the first knock. But for the second time tonight, I’m caught off guard.

  It’s not the delivery man standing before me. At least, not the one I was expecting. It’s Holt, carrying a stack of pizza boxes that obscures most of my view of him.

  My body instantly reacts to his presence, tensing up at first, then flooding with a rush of warmth that takes me by surprise. My jaw hangs slack, and suddenly, words feel like a distant memory. There’s only one word on my mind.

  “Holt.”

  Not a sentence, not a greeting, just his name. It’s all I can manage. I gulp down my nerves, pressing my shoulders back to summon any bit of confidence I can muster.

  “I didn’t think you’d come.” Smooth, Eden. “I mean, thank you for getting the pizzas.”

  Holt shakes his head, although I can’t see anything but his cool gray eyes from behind the stack of boxes. But just one look into those eyes has me feeling unsteady, the same way I did all those years ago.

  “It was nothing. Delivery guy was in the lobby, asking the front desk about buzzing up to your unit. I volunteered to take it from there, save the guy a few minutes.”

  “Did you tip him?”

  Holt’s gaze narrows, and I don’t have to see his mouth to know that he’s smirking. “Of course I did. I’m not a monster.”

  I give him a warm smile. It’s still so surreal having him here. “Well, thank you. Let me know what I owe you, okay?”

  I take the stack of boxes from him, despite his protests that he’s happy to carry them the rest of the way. It’s a much-needed distraction to keep my mind from playing out all the ways I’d like to repay him. Maybe with another one of those toe-curling kisses we shared so many years ago. What was it about him that made me want to give him everything so quickly? I hardly knew him before that night, after all. But in the span of a few hours, this kind, mysterious man looked beyond my family status and saw who I truly am, a deeper part of me that I haven’t shared with anyone since. Not with Alex, not with anyone.

  And I saw Holt too. He invited me into the darkness of his past, the goals he had for after he graduated from Sutton. When we kissed, it felt like I’d known him all my life. I would have given him everything that night, had he not stopped us.

  I bat away the memory with a few deep breaths, focusing instead on setting out the pizza boxes where the trays of fajitas used to be. Now is no time to be fantasizing about false realities. Not when Holt’s own words are still echoing in my head.

  “It’s in the past. Let’s move on.”

  I’ve barely opened the first pizza box when Tate appears with an empty plate, grabbing two slices and smashing them together like a sandwich.

  Being that I didn’t so much as taste a fajita earlier, I nab an extra-large slice for myself, draping it over a plate before escaping to the living room, which has quickly emptied, thanks to the alluring scent of pepperoni wafting in from the kitchen.

  I settle into one of the leather loveseats, blotting the grease off my slice with a napkin before bringing it to my lips. The cheese stretches off the crust, like it should on a true East Coast slice, and for a moment, I feel at ease again. That is, until Holt takes the seat next to mine.

  “Is this seat taken?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “It is now. By you.” There’s an edge of sass to my voice that I wasn’t quite planning on, but Holt doesn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it.

  “Great. Because I thought you might need something to wash that down with.”

  I glance down to see a brown paper grocery bag in his grip. I didn’t notice it when he arrived, what with the leaning tower of pizzas he was carrying, but now he has my full attention. The bag crinkles as he reaches in and pulls out a slender glass bottle filled with a light pink liquid. Rosé.

  “It’s your favorite, right?” he asks, presenting me with the bottle.

  I accept it, careful to make sure our fingers only brush briefly on the handoff. But even that split second is enough for the electricity to leap from his fingertips to mine. “How did you know?”

  “I may have asked your assistant,” he says, a devious smile threatening the corner of his lips. “I actually thought about bringing it in a flask, for old time’s sake.”

  A quiet chuckle escapes me at the memory of us sharing sips of whiskey in his room at the frat house. Now I feel a little sheepish about the fact I wasn’t brave enough to extend the invitation for tonight’s gathering to him personally. I had my assistant, Aspen, call him instead.

  “I don’t need anything to help me drink this stuff any faster than I already do,” I say, grinning. “I’ll grab us some glasses.”

  Before I can get up, Holt shakes his head, reaching back into the bag and pulling out an insulated cup that looks like a cross between a stemless wineglass and a travel coffee mug. “I got you this too. Figured you might need it with all the stress of your new job. You could bring it to the office. Maybe with coffee, though.”

  This time, my laugh is anything but quiet. “You have no idea.”

  And just like that, it’s as if no time has passed between us. The six years that sped by between me scrawling a note on his dresser, and him stepping into my office last week, feel like the blink of an eye.

  This is the same man I spilled my heart to after a few sips of whiskey, the one whose bloody knuckles I tended to, even when he insisted I could leave. The same man who, in a matter of hours, came to know me almost better than I knew myself. And that scared me.

  But looking at him now, I wonder what it was that I was so afraid of.

  8

  * * *

  HOLT

  It’s my first official day reporting for duty, and I have a meeting with Eden and Les at nine in her office at Elite Airlines Arena.

  The first hockey game is only days away, and there’s been some talk in the media about another protest. It pisses me off to think about what Eden has to endure. She comes into work every day to do her best, and yet some troublemaking idiots want to make her life more difficult. It only makes me want to help her more. Must be some underdog complex. Fuck the naysayers and all that.

  The building is impressive—a steel-and-glass structure where the hockey team plays also houses the team leadership’s offices. I’ve never been here for a game, but I’m sure the experience is quite different. The building is eerily silent and deserted on a Monday morning. A lone security guard waits at the main doors, and a cleaning crew buffs the concrete floors on the ground level, but other than that, it’s quiet.

  I make my way to the elevators, remembering the somber look on Eden’s face the last time we were alone together here. She seemed relaxed enough at the team dinner at her place, so hopefully she’s settling into her role here with a little more confidence.

  When I reach the floor to her office, Eden’s assistant is seated at a glass desk just outside her door. Her name plate reads ASPEN FORD.

  “Hello.” I pause in front of her.

  She looks up at me and pulls a pencil from her mouth, then blinks at me twice. “Holt, right?”

  “That’s me.”

  Her mouth curls into a slow smile, and I wonder what Eden’s told her about me. About us.

  Probably nothing. Because there is no “us.”

  “Great. Eden and Les are inside. They’re expecting you. Go on in.”

  I nod and then let myself inside Eden’s office, pushing open the heavy frosted-glass door. They’re already seated at the conference table, and Eden’s gaze lifts to mine the second she spots me.

  “Morning,” I say.

  Her full mouth lifts in a smile. “Good morning. You’re right on time. Coffee?”

  Today Eden’s dressed in a pair of black pants, glittery ballet flats, and a pale pink blouse. It’s decidedly feminine, and I love that she’s confident enough to be herself.
She doesn’t try to mold herself to the standards of what others might say is needed for the leader of a sports franchise.

  I shake my head. “Not a coffee guy. Thanks, though.”

  “Tea?” She pulls in a breath, drawing my gaze to the delicate gold necklace resting between her breasts.

  My heart hammering, I force my eyes to meet hers. “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”

  “I couldn’t live without my morning joe,” Les says.

  Jeez. For a second, I forgot he was even here. It’s easy to get wrapped up in Eden. She’s striking and poised and so fucking tempting . . .

  Stop, Holt.

  Giving myself a mental shake, I take a seat in the same chair as last time so I have a view of both Eden and the door to her office.

  “So, should we get down to business?” she asks, tapping her pen on the table beside a black leather planner embossed with her initials, EMW.

  It occurs to me that I don’t know her middle name. Marie, maybe? Michelle? Mary?

  “The travel schedule is the first thing we should discuss,” Les says, looking between Eden and me with a frown.

  If he’s worried I’m going to blow off traveling with the team, he’s wrong. I take my role seriously. Even if that means flying to Saskatoon in the middle of January, I’ll be there. I’ll need to buy a new parka, but I’ll be there.

  “Whatever you need.” I dig my smartphone from my pocket and pull up my calendar.

  Eden smiles. “There’s a home game this Thursday, and then we leave Friday midday for a game on Saturday in Detroit, and stick around the Midwest for a game in Ohio on Monday. We’re back late Monday night. Probably not until midnight or so.”

  After jotting the dates and locations down in my calendar, I nod to Eden. “Sounds fine. No issues here.”

  “I hope you don’t have any pets.” Eden’s watching me from over the rim of her coffee mug.

  Just like her outfit, her mug is unapologetic, sporting the phrase Let’s Keep the Dumbfuckery to a Minimum Today written in fancy cursive writing. I have to squint to make out the words, and when I do, my mouth twitches.

  “No pets,” I say.

  Her eyes lift to mine. “Not even a goldfish?”

  For a second, I’m speechless, transported back in time.

  It was something we talked about that night we spent together. Eden admitted that growing up as an only child, she was often lonely. She said she’d always wanted a pet, but her parents never allowed it. I stupidly suggested she get a goldfish. She teased me, saying fish were a big commitment, and she didn’t know if she had the time.

  “Haven’t made the commitment yet. You?” I manage to say, my voice raspy.

  With a laugh, she shakes her head, and Les watches us like we’re insane.

  Maybe we are.

  “No pets,” I say firmly. “No girlfriend. Just me.”

  Her gaze lingers on mine for a minute longer. “Still, I know it’s a lot to drop everything and travel. So, thank you.”

  “You’re more than welcome.”

  As Eden presses on with the fall’s remaining trips and events, Les’s cell phone begins vibrating on the table.

  “Excuse me for just a minute,” he says, standing and frowning down at the thing.

  “Take your time,” Eden says, enjoying another sip of her coffee as Les exits her office, closing the door behind him.

  Now that we’re alone, she turns her attention back to me. “Why aren’t you dating anyone?”

  The girl I once knew wasn’t always so bold around me. I remember Eden as being sort of shy that night. Ducking her chin when I asked her a question, fidgeting and tucking her hair behind her ear. Ready to flee from my bed at any moment. That’s the way I remember her.

  But then something shifted. She let her walls down and got comfortable. She opened up to me. We lay down together, and she rested her head on my chest. I liked that part. Never been much of a cuddling type of guy, but I enjoyed it that night with her. Hell, I enjoyed everything that night with Eden.

  I realize she’s still waiting for me to answer her question. The one about why I’m still single.

  “No time, I guess. I probably work too much.”

  She shifts, still watching me from across the table. “I see. That makes sense. You’ve grown your company, your reputation. It’s impressive what you’ve done.”

  I nod but dodge the compliment. “What about you? Has there been anyone since Braun?”

  The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. It’s none of my damn business, but Eden doesn’t seem offended or bothered by my question.

  “No,” she says softly. “Before he got sick, my grandfather tried to introduce me to his golfing partner’s godson.”

  “Did you meet with him?”

  She nods. “Yes, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Why not?” I’m curious, and since she’s entertaining my questions without so much as a pause, I’m rolling with it.

  “There was no chemistry. At all,” she says sternly. “He was about as exciting as a baked potato.”

  An easy chuckle tumbles from my lips. “Gotcha. So, we’re both single.”

  A smile lifts her full mouth. “It would appear so.”

  Les comes back in, pocketing his phone. “How’s it coming along, kids?”

  “I think we’re about done here,” Eden says.

  Les nods toward me. “You want me to show you around? I can give you a tour of the control room.”

  I stand. “Thanks, that sounds good.”

  I need to learn the facility where Eden works if I’m going to be here to support her, though my primary role will be shadowing her when she’s away from this place—on the road, moving from city to city, hotel to hotel. But I have two hours to kill before I told my mom I’d visit, so I might as well make good use of it.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” I say to Eden. “Otherwise, I’ll see you on game day.”

  She nods, waving her fingers at us. “Have fun, boys.”

  We leave Eden behind, hunched over her laptop with that damn coffee mug.

  Les and I use every bit of that two hours to get me acquainted with the building and the security systems currently in place. It’s a state-of-the-art setup, and I’m feeling much more optimistic than I have any right to.

  Because if life’s taught me anything, it’s that whatever can go wrong, will.

  • • •

  “You want something to eat?” Mom asks, opening her fridge and peering inside.

  I don’t know what she could be looking for, because she hasn’t been here in six weeks. Surely whatever was in her fridge before she left for rehab is rotten by now.

  Then again, maybe it’s just a mom thing—asking your kid if he’s eaten. And the truth is, I am hungry. I came right here from my meeting with Eden and Les and haven’t had lunch yet, but it’s not her responsibility to feed me. She can barely remember to feed herself, and the last thing I want to do is put pressure on her. My mom’s always been a little bit . . . fragile. Unstable.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  She nods and lets the fridge close. Stepping away from the kitchen, she runs her hand along the clean countertop, humming to herself. I sent a cleaning crew by a few days ago when I heard she was getting out, so she didn’t have to come back to a dusty apartment.

  “Everything go okay? You feeling good?” I ask, settling into the armchair in the corner of the living room.

  “I feel just fine.” She waves me off. “Between you and your brother, I swear, you’re like two mother hens.”

  She chuckles to herself, but her humor is lost on me because, yeah, of course my brother and I worry about her. She’s been addicted to pain pills for almost two decades. And I really hope getting clean this time will stick for her, but who the hell knows. I’ve learned to roll with the punches. One week she’s doing great, and the next, I’ll come by and find her as high as a kite.

  “I just came by to make sure you we
re doing okay. Getting settled in again.” I say, carefully hedging.

  She looks at me with irritation. “I said I’m fine.”

  “I know. And I wanted to tell you that I’m going to be gone for a couple of days, and more often coming up. I got a new job.”

  Turning in my direction, she smiles. “Yeah? Good for you, baby. Security for some big CEO or celebrity this time?”

  I nod. “Something like that. You remember Eden Wynn?”

  Her eyes flash with recognition. I made the mistake of mentioning once I had a history with the former governor’s daughter.

  Mom’s expression hardens. “I thought you learned your lesson a long time ago. You’ll never be enough for a girl like that.”

  With an annoyed breath, I rise to my feet. “It’s just a job, Mom.”

  “Good. Because it won’t do you any good to start thinking pretty thoughts about girls like her. I saw what happened last time.”

  She didn’t know shit about what happened last time. But then again, maybe she’s more perceptive than I thought. Maybe she knew me withdrawing and closing myself off had a lot more to do with Eden’s rejection than I let on.

  “I know, Mom, don’t worry. I’ve got to get going. Take care of yourself,” I say as I hand her a few bills.

  She curls her hand around the cash, giving me a grateful look. “I always do, don’t I?”

  I raise a brow in her direction. That’s debatable. But the last thing I want to do is get into yet another argument with my mom. “Talk to you soon.”

  She only nods in response.

  9

  * * *

  EDEN

  It’s strange to be working at my grandfather’s desk, a dark mahogany piece of furniture, large and masculine. It suits the office nicely, but it doesn’t suit me. I wonder how long I’ll feel like an imposter.