Hawke (Cold Fury Hockey, #5)

The second thing I learned from Max was that my struggle to balance career and relationships is not atypical. Max had a high school sweetheart he lost to the distance and rigors of becoming a professional athlete. He as much as admitted that he didn’t put her first, and didn’t really even realize her feelings for him had died because of it. It made me feel slightly better about losing touch with Oliver and gave me the final push I needed to reach out to him.

While the call was awkward for all of about thirty seconds, it was clear that Oliver couldn’t have been happier for me and my accomplishments, or any more understanding about losing touch. I apologized. He accepted. Since then we’ve talked one more time and have made “loose” plans to get together.

So with my life seemingly back on track, and old relationships reopened and currently being explored, as well as a mutual decision by Vale and myself to move forward—whatever that means—there was no sense in hiding any of this from the team. Besides, the first time I walked naked through the locker room with Vale’s name on my hip sort of told the story. I admitted to one of my teammates it was indeed Vale the AT who had residence on my pelvis, and by day’s end, the story had spread like wildfire. I even got an email from Gray telling me she was glad I had reconnected with her.

Something I’d like to do again, very literally, very soon.

“How about an additional bet?” I ask Vale, waggling my eyebrows at her.

“Oh, yeah?” she asks impishly as she turns her cards facedown on the table. “Like what?”

“If I win, we say good night to these two boneheads, you come back to my room with me, and I get to tie you up.” I say all of this in a low voice with a direct stare of challenge to Vale. Max and Garrett are all but forgotten, until I hear Garrett cough and mutter, “Awkward.”

Vale neither blushes nor looks offended by my suggestion. While she may not be a party girl like the old days, she isn’t afraid of her sexuality either. In fact, her eyebrows raise in interest as she stares back at me.

I can tell Max and Garrett are forgotten to her as well.

“What if I win?” she asks while rubbing her index finger seductively along the edge of her cards fanned out on the wooden table.

“You get to take me back to my room and tie me up, have your way with me,” I tell her simply.

And I hope she fucking wins.

Please, please, please let her have the winning hand, because the thought of Vale having unrestricted access to do whatever comes into that dirty little brain of hers is completely fine by me.

“Deal,” she says, and with a flourishing flick of her wrist, she turns the cards over one by one. Three kings, two eights. A full house.

Standing up from the table, I throw my cards facedown and grab Vale’s hand, urging her to stand up too.

“Got me,” I tell her with a wink. “You win. Now let’s go so you can tie me up.”

Garrett barks out a laugh and grabs my cards to see what I had. I glare at him, silently explaining I will rain retribution down on him if he exposes me.

Max clearly doesn’t see my quiet command as he grabs the cards from Garrett’s hand before I can even pull Vale free of the table and places them face up. “Four of a kind,” Max says with a low whistle. “Look at them ladies.”

“Asshole,” I mutter as I look down at the four queens staring up at me, which clearly beat Vale’s hand.

When I look back at her, she’s staring at me in sympathetic amusement. She squeezes my hand and then makes my night. “I’ll give that one to you, so let’s get going. I hope you brought more than one dress tie for this road trip.”

I suppress a groan and try not to laugh over Max and Garrett standing there agog over Vale’s words. That was just a tiny peek at the woman I used to know, completely unafraid to say how it is. She may have tamed her partying ways, but not her penchant for honest and open talk.

“We’re out of here,” I tell Max and Garrett as I move past the table, tighten my hold on Vale’s hand, and pull her toward the door. Luckily my room is just three down from Max’s, and within just a few minutes I’m expecting Vale’s hands and mouth to be all over me.

Today has been a perfect day.





Chapter 22


Vale


This is nice.

Lying on my couch with Hawke, his long body stretched down the length of it with my backside snuggled into his front. We’re watching Nightmare on Elm Street with all the lights off, and while I’m normally a weenie about scary movies, I don’t feel an ounce of anxiety as I look warily at Freddy’s long arms and knifelike fingers. I suppose having a big, bad hockey player behind me eases the fear. Dad went to bed about an hour ago and we’re content to just lie here like this, his hand resting on my hip in a loose embrace.

Hawke leans forward, which pushes me slightly to the edge of the couch, reaches an arm over me, and dives his hand into the bowl of candy on the coffee table. “Want another?”

“No,” I groan. “I’m on sugar overload.”

“Well you shouldn’t have bought thirty pounds of mini Snickers.”