GAME DAYS ARE my absolute favorite. The boys swagger everywhere they go, cocky as shit. The energy levels in our apartment building and at the arena are high. Even the office is abuzz with an excitement that pushes the day along.
On game days, I don’t have to be in the office until later in the day, since I cover the press and deal with the players long after they exit the ice for the night. The days are long, but every moment is charged with excitement.
It makes it impossible not to love my job.
A job that has given me so much more than money to help my family. It gives me a purpose. Not to mention, I’m damn good at it.
And I really freaking don’t want to lose it.
Liv steps into my office, phone in hand, not quite paying attention to me as she taps out a message on the screen. She’s dressed in all black, as usual, and her dark hair is pulled into her signature bun. “What time you heading to the arena?”
“I’ll probably head that way in half an hour. Need me to handle something here first?”
Liv looks up from her phone and smiles. “No. I’m going to the game too.”
“You are?”
Liv never comes to the hockey games. She’s normally at home with the kids in the evenings, per Beckett’s orders. Though the orders are really suggestions, and only because he’s so obsessed with making her happy. For years, he expected her to travel with him and the Revs for every road stretch. It wasn’t until they were “fake married” that he realized how much she was missing out on with the kids. Once he was hit with that reality, he encouraged her to promote me. Now I handle the hockey team travel, and my counterpart, Hannah, handles the baseball travel.
“Yup. My kids are sleeping at Dylan’s, so Beckett and I are having a date night at the game.” She steps farther into my office and lowers her voice. “Rumor has it that Ford and Lake are going to be there to watch Daniel play.”
Oh my God. I’m not trying to faint, but Lake is literally my idol. I know we’ve already been over this, but seriously, I love her.
“You do realize I hate you right now,” I whine.
Liv laughs. “Why don’t you hang in the owner’s box with us tonight? You don’t actually have to sit with the boys during the game. There’s no way the press is coming near them while they’re playing.”
She’s right, and I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but… I shrug. “I want to be there for Brooks.”
Liv’s smile is so bright it hurts to look at. “I need the full story one of these days. I always knew he had a crush on you, but you seemed kind of oblivious to it. What changed?”
Her words have me holding my breath. Brooks had a crush on me? That’s news. Brooks and I are close, but outside of the last twenty-four hours, he’s never so much as flirted with me.
“Honestly,” I say, going for nonchalant, “he went all caveman on me and declared me his. I didn’t have much say in the matter.”
Sticking as close to reality as I can feels like the safest bet, and even though we’re pretending, those words are more like the truth than anything else I could admit. Over the last two days, I’ve discovered a whole other side of Brooks, and I don’t hate it one bit.
Liv brings a hand to her heart. “Those Langfield men. Am I right?”
“Yes,” I huff a laugh and check the time on my computer screen. “You are most definitely right.” Standing, I run a hand down the front of my shirt to smooth it out. “On that note, I’m going to freshen up before heading to the arena.” I hold up my phone. “Text me when you’re with Lake.”
“You got it, babe.” She heads for the open door but turns back at the threshold. “And Sara?”
I pull open the top drawer of my desk, ready to grab my toiletry case, and look up at her. “Yeah?”
“Enjoy yourself tonight.”
In the bathroom, I run into Hannah, who I thought had already headed home for the day. When the baseball team isn’t playing and she isn’t traveling, her workdays are shorter, just like mine are when the Bolts aren’t playing. If the Revs were playing tonight, there’s no way Beckett would be going to the hockey game. Also, the offices, which are located directly between the stadium and arena, are always buzzing on game days. Our side of the office, the hockey division, has been a madhouse all day, but the baseball group is basically MIA.
When Hannah whips a jersey out of her oversized purse, her presence makes more sense.
“Ah,” I say. “I see you heard Lake was going to the game.”
She grins and tugs the jersey over her head. “Is it that obvious?”
I set my makeup case on the counter beside her. “And you’re wearing Daniel Hall’s number.”
A pink flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, and she ducks her head, fiddling with the hem of her jersey.
“Hannah!”
She looks away from me. “Shh. He’s a good player, that’s all. And it’d be weird to wear one of the Langfield jerseys. Like, how do you pick one? They own the team.”
I shrug. I hadn’t considered wearing a jersey, but suddenly the idea of showing up wearing Brooks’s number sounds like a fantastic idea. It’s what a real girlfriend would do. And as a bonus? It would really piss off Seb.
“Can I sit with you?” she asks, interrupting my train of thought.
I drop my lipstick into my makeup case and prop one hip up against the counter, facing her. “You realize Lake will be in the owner’s box, right? I’m sitting with the team.”
Hannah nods, her lips pressed together. The hope in her eyes is impossible to miss.
Oh shit. The girl has a crush on the new star. She may only be twenty-six, but he’s twenty-three. The Bolts recruited him while he was still in college. He helped us win the Cup last year while getting his degree online.
“All right. Let’s head to the game.” I zip up my bag and tuck it under one arm, then turn for the door. “Oh.” I whip around so fast the ends of my ponytail whack me in the face. “Since you’ll probably hear all about it when we get there, I might as well tell you now. I’m dating Brooks.”
With that, I rush out of the bathroom, leaving her shrieking in excitement after me.
Not gonna lie, this is kind of fun.
It’s not hard to come by a Langfield jersey. Especially number 13. Brooks, unsurprisingly, is a fan favorite.
Normally I wear a suit to the games. I keep it professional like the team does before and after every game. Tonight, I’m in jeans. The casual clothing will totally piss Seb off, but it won’t make him nearly as angry as the number emblazoned on my back.
I almost said no when Brooks suggested the revenge dating scenario. A ploy like this is typically beneath him. The man is so buttoned up and proper and, well, good. The revenge plan is something Lennox and I would have cooked up in college, but these days, I’ve risen above that kind of pettiness. Or so I thought.
When I waltz down the hallway outside the locker rooms, decked out in a blue jersey over a long-sleeve white shirt, I can’t contain the huge smile that consumes my face knowing how pissed Seb will be.
“Case! What are you doing wearing Langfield’s jersey? You know you’d look so much better with Warren on your back.”
I spin around, ready to hit the right winger with a witty comeback, and almost stumble over my own feet. Just outside the door leading to the locker rooms are War, Aiden, and Brooks. It’s the way Brooks is standing, I think, that short circuited my brain—feet planted wide, hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Or maybe it’s how his suit strains against his shoulders as he studies me. Lips parted—like he too has lost his words—green eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them and laser focused on my tits.
Stupefied, I drop my chin and follow his gaze. Oh. It’s on the jersey. Definitely the jersey. Why would he be looking at my tits?
“Turn around.” The command he grits out sounds like sex talking. Like literal sex just dripped down my leg and spoke those words.
With a thick swallow, I scan the hall to make sure he’s talking to me, unable to believe my sweet Brookie would use that tone with me.
Aiden’s lips twitch, and War’s gaze bounces from me to Brooks and back again.
Brooks? He’s frozen in place, like I’ve ensnared him in a trap I didn’t know I’d set and he’s tracking my every movement. My every breath.
He moves closer, and the wide hallway narrows. With every step he takes, the space continues to shrink and my body heats another degree.
“I said turn around, Pumpkin.” There it is again, that tone full of nothing but sex.
Holy fuck. My best friend has a sex operator voice.
Would he be up for recording himself for me? Ugh. I’ll have to ask later, because he’s so close I can see the way his chest is heaving with every breath.
“It’s like you want to be punished.” His voice is softer now, but not any less alluring.
With one hand, he grasps my wrist and tugs me closer. Then he steps around me, his dress shoes clicking on the concrete floor. His grip is tight but not painful as he circles me, still holding me in place. Then his free hand is between my shoulder blades, his heat soaking through the jersey into my skin. He slides it down my back slowly, warming me as he goes, until he grips my hip.
“Fuck, you look good with my name on your back,” he rasps against the sensitive skin of my neck, sending goose bumps skittering down my spine.
The gentle kiss that follows is so surprising I suck in a breath.
Is it possible the oxygen is restricted down here below the arena? I’m suddenly dizzy. Overheated.
I pinch the fabric of my jersey and pull at it, desperate for air. “God, did they turn up the heat in here?”
Aiden covers his mouth to muffle a laugh.
War is watching us with wide eyes, like we’re a damn circus act. “It’s freezing down here. It’s always freezing down here.” He shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”
Brooks tightens his hold on my hip and pulls until my back is flush with his chest. “She’ll only be wearing Langfield on her back from now on.”
Holy shit. Who is this man? I twist at the waist, since he’s yet to release his hold on me, and come face to face with the cockiest fucking smirk I’ve ever seen. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Immensely,” he mutters.
I cough out a laugh. “Good. Didn’t know I’d make you so happy. Figured it’d piss Seb off.”
Brooks exhales a loud breath, and his shoulders drop. “Right. Yeah.” He finally releases me, and when he steps away, I’m hit with a shot of cool air.
“I gotta go get changed. See you out there.” Then he’s wandering off, past his brother, his demeanor a little less cocky than before.
Aiden watches him go too, then focuses on me. He’s wearing a frown that doesn’t at all fit his happy-go-lucky attitude. My stomach sinks when he gives his head an almost imperceptible shake.
Shit. What did I say?
“Show’s over. Get changed!”
I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of Seb’s sharp bark, but I steady myself quickly.
“Ms. Case, I don’t think we have any PR concerns right now. We’ll see you after the game.”
With the biggest smile I can muster plastered to my face, I spin on my heel. “Just saying hello to my boyfriend and wishing the guys good luck.”
Sebastian is wearing a game-day suit, black with a royal blue tie, like always. His dark hair is tousled like he spent the last hour pulling on it. Or maybe his wife did. “Girlfriends aren’t allowed in the locker room, Ms. Case.”
With a wink, I saunter past him and point to the name on my back as I go. “This one is.”
