Major Misconduct (Aces Hockey #1) (5 page)

Rule number one of their code: once you’ve known a guy for more than twenty-four hours, his sister is off-limits forever.

“I don’t like that rule anymore,” Stoykers said.

“Too fucking bad!” Army yelled. “You can’t just change the rules! That would mean I could tell everyone you like to watch figure skating.”

The room fell silent. Stoykers’ face went red.

“Figure skating?” Hughie said. “Seriously?”

“Fuck off,” Stoykers muttered.

“She’s an adult,” Hughie said. “You can’t stop her from going out with one of us if she wants.”

“Oh yeah.” Army gave him a meaningful look that was also…well, mean. “I can.”

The guys all hooted, but eyes shifted and Marc knew
they
knew Army meant it.

“C’mon, man. Better she dates one of us, someone you know and like, than some stranger who could be a complete asshole,” Hughie said.

“I’m a nice guy,” Stoykers added, looking wounded. “Why wouldn’t you want her to date me?”

Army scowled at him. “You sleep with chicks two at a time, that’s why.”

“Not always,” Stoykers protested, not even trying to deny it.

Marc just listened. This conversation made him want to punch someone. He didn’t know who. Anyone. The fact that apparently every single guy on the team lusted after Lovey Armstrong pissed him off. The fact that Army was being so protective of her also pissed him off, although why that was he had no idea. How could he blame a guy for looking out for his little sister? Well, Stoykers had a point—she
was
an adult.

A very sexy, sweet adult.

Fuck that. He had to wash those thoughts out of his head. He could not be thinking about her sweet little ass cheeks twitching as she walked down the hall that morning, heading to the bathroom she was sharing with him.

Fuuuuuck.

After lunch, he and Army headed back to the condo. It had started to snow from a pale overcast sky. Jesus, it wasn’t even the end of October and it was snowing already.

When they walked into the condo, the music of One Republic was playing and Lovey was on the big couch, sock feet on the coffee table, her sleek silver Mac computer on her lap. Her head and upper body were moving to the music as she stared at her computer screen, fingers tapping on the keyboard. Pale light flooded the room through the big windows as snow fell outside.

“Oh hey.” She looked up at them and illuminated the room with that wide, white smile. “You’re back. How was your practice?”

“Good.” Army shrugged out of his jacket. Marc did the same, trying hard not to look at Lovey.

“Still on Facebook?” he muttered to the floor. At least she was dressed now.

“Um…sort of. Good news. Jillian can come to the game with me tonight.” She set aside her laptop and stood.

“Great.”

Yeah, she was dressed. A big, loose-knit sweater with a high neckline swaddled her from chin to thighs, black leggings covered her legs—although they didn’t disguise their sexy shape—and big Nordic-patterned knit socks ensured she was shrouded all the way to her toes. And still she somehow managed to look tempting.

He was so fucked.

“Who’s Jillian?” Army asked.

“We went to college together at Madison Tech. She moved to Chicago after we graduated. When I was coming here, I planned to look her up and hopefully get together, so this is great.”

Army nodded.

“Okay, gonna take a nap now.” Marc moved past her toward the hall. “See ya later.”

He made a hasty retreat down the hall, stopping at the bathroom. He walked in and shut the door, then gazed around in dismay. Lovey had apparently unpacked. Bottles of all kinds of girl crap lined the counter and the bathtub, the scent of cupcakes filling the air. A pink poufy sponge hung off a hook in the shower, and a lavender makeup bag spilled cosmetics out onto the marble vanity. A hair straightener sat on a folded-up towel there. Jesus.

Yup. Fucked.

Lovey smiled, watching Marc disappear down the hall. She turned back to her brother, who stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“What?” She blinked at him.

He narrowed his eyes. “He touches you, he’s a dead man. Don’t screw around with him.”

Lovey lowered her chin to one side and gave him a sidelong look. “Dude. What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. And you’re not sleeping on the couch again. Get a fucking bed in here ASAP. Meanwhile, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I thought we already had this conversation.” She folded her arms across her chest to match his pose, cocking a hip. “You’re too big to sleep on the couch.”

“I am, but you can’t sleep out here in those skimpy little clothes when Marc is around.”

Now she lifted an eyebrow. “That’s what I sleep in.”

“Get some flannel pajamas.”

She laughed. “Right.”

“Seriously, Lovey. This is why I didn’t want you staying here. You can’t walk around dressed like that. He was
looking
at you.”

She grinned. “I know.”

He groaned.

“Oh relax, Dunc. We’re all adults.”

“We need to talk.”

She frowned. “About what?”

“About why you’re here. Why you quit your job. Why you broke up with whatshisname—”

“Richard.”

“Yeah. Richard. And what you think you’re going to do here in Chicago. But right now…I need to have a nap.”

She shrugged. She was familiar with game day naps. “Go ahead. And FYI, I already called Mom and asked her to get my stuff sent here. She’s going to do it Monday. I should have a bed next week.”

He sighed again. “Fuck me. How do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Sure. Whatever.”

He disappeared down the hall into his bedroom and she was alone again. She sucked in a long breath and let it out, looking around. Macklemore sang through her computer speakers on a playlist she’d created.

She wandered to the big windows and gazed out at the skyscrapers now obscured with the falling snow, slow, fluffy flakes that drifted slowly from the sky. The view from Duncan’s condo was awesome. She loved the city. She’d visited Chicago many times and couldn’t wait to go out there and explore and get to know it better. It would be different now that she lived there. She wasn’t just a visitor. This was going to be her home.

Why hadn’t she done this years ago?

The condo felt warm and cozy with the snow outside the glass. She padded in sock feet across the thick area rug toward the kitchen to brew herself a beverage in that cool Keurig machine. She’d found packages of all different kinds of drinks—lattes, cappuccinos, hot chocolate. Moments later she held a warm mug of caramel vanilla cream coffee. Yum. She didn’t want to think about the calorie or sugar content. She’d just have this one. She paused a moment, wondering why Duncan and Marc had such a drink…they didn’t seem the type to like a sweet coffee. Oh yeah—all the girls they had over.

She rolled her eyes and strolled back to curl up in the corner of the big, squishy leather couch.

Like last night. She’d learned later in the evening that they’d just met those girls at the bar. Here she’d thought she was meeting and hanging out with some of their friends. But no, puck bunnies. She grimaced. They’d actually been really nice girls, although Angel had clearly had her sights set on Marc. Beh.

Why did that bug her? It wasn’t like Marc was hers. But he was really, really attractive. And she knew he felt the same about her. She’d sensed the tension in him whenever they were together. Last night he’d kept watching her. This morning when they’d been in the kitchen together he’d clearly been attracted. There was no mistaking how he looked at her, and the cute way he was trying to keep his distance.

She didn’t get that, though. If they were attracted to each other, why couldn’t they act on it?

Duncan.

She sighed as she settled her Mac on her lap again. Big brother was being annoying. He was always annoying. She loved him, and his protectiveness was cute, but damn. She was a big girl.

She liked men. She liked having fun. Why couldn’t she and Marc have fun together if they both wanted it?

Oh right—Captain Codger. He wasn’t into “fun.”

She pursed her lips and stared at her screen. That was okay. She was used to getting her way. Duncan had just asked the question, “How do you always do that?” She’d played dumb, but she knew what he meant. All her life she’d gotten her own way. Her parents and her big brother had loved her, but having a hockey star brother had left her in the shadows a lot of the time. She’d never felt anything but loved, but had to admit there’d been times she’d felt a little lost.

Hockey took a lot of time. As a kid, there’d been early morning practices and after school games. As a teenager, there’d been weekend tournaments in other states. She’d been dragged along on those trips she hadn’t wanted to go on, sitting in cold hockey arenas drinking hot chocolate or by herself in hotel rooms. Her parents had felt guilty about all the time and attention Duncan got on the path to becoming a professional hockey player and had basically given her anything she wanted in an attempt to make up for it.

She’d never taken advantage. Well, not much. She might be a little spoiled. She’d be the first to admit it. But she truly didn’t believe she was a bad person because of it. She sometimes didn’t think things through before she acted. She changed jobs and boyfriends and hair color with head-snapping frequency. But she loved her family. She appreciated everything they did for her. She had friends she cared about and she was smart and she was forming a plan for her life.

Duncan didn’t believe that. Yet. But she would show him.

She tapped on her keyboard. She had more work to do for one of the few clients she already had in her fledgling business.

A Facebook message from Jillian popped up. Lovey smiled as she typed a response, arranging to meet for dinner before the game. She suggested somewhere near the arena so she could get a ride with Duncan and/or Marc. Did they drive to the game together? She knew Duncan would get there a couple of hours before game time, so that should work. Then if they didn’t meet up after, she could take a taxi home. She’d be ready to go when they got up from their nap. Meanwhile, she had work to do.

She inserted earbuds to listen to music as she worked so as not to disturb the guys. Much as she pushed Duncan, she knew he and Marc—apparently
especially
Marc—took their profession seriously. It was game day and nothing could get in the way of that. She’d behave herself and not interfere or distract them.

An hour, maybe a little more, passed before she heard noises from down the hall as the guys woke up and got ready to go back to the arena. She saved her work, closed the numerous windows she had open, and shut down her computer. She carried it down the hall to her nearly empty bedroom. She’d “unpacked” earlier, which consisted of hanging some of her clothes in the big empty closet and setting others in neatly folded piles on the floor. She’d arranged her shoes and boots on the floor of the closet. Her underwear stayed in the open suitcase, also on the floor. Well, Mom would get in touch with the storage facility on Monday and arrange to have her things transported to the condo. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long.

She changed into a pair of jeans, her favorite Silver ones, super low and skinny, but kept the big sweater on. She liked the moss green color, and it was nice and warm for sitting in a cool arena. She’d have to get an Aces jersey to wear to games if she was going to live in Chicago.

She poked her head out of the bedroom to check the status of the bathroom. It was empty, so she nipped in there to touch up her face while her flat iron heated up. She added a little more eye shadow and mascara and shiny lip gloss, then wound the flat iron through her hair to curl it back off her face in long waves.

There.

She grabbed her flat, knee-high boots and her purse and headed out to the living room again. Marc was in the kitchen, perched on a stool, one foot on the floor, the other on a rung of the stool, and her heart skipped a beat as she took in his attire. He wore a dark suit that fit his big body admirably, a snowy white shirt, and a silky tie in shades of blue, black, and purple. Shiny black shoes completed the classy outfit. With his spiky brown hair and stubbled jaw, he literally took her breath away. She struggled to drag air into her constricted lungs.

“Hi.” He unwrapped something and took a bite.

“Hi. Good nap?”

“Mmmhmm.” He was chewing.

“What’s that?” She dropped her boots to the floor and leaned on the counter, nodding at the bar in his hand.

“Protein bar.” He took another bite with his straight white teeth. He appeared to be one of the guys who’d religiously worn mouth protection and still had all his own teeth. And they were very nice teeth.

On a plate in front of him sat an apple core and the peel of an orange he’d apparently already eaten. Pre-game snack.

“Do you and Duncan go to the game together?”

“No. I like to get there earlier than he does and I stay later. I’m leaving right away.”

“Can I get a ride with you?”

He just looked at her, his face expressionless. “Why?”

“I’m meeting my friend for dinner before the game. I thought I could get a ride with you guys.”

“Get a ride with Duncan.”

Her insides tightened. “Do you have to be so rude?”

He blinked. “Uh…”

She frowned at him. “I’m not a terrible person. What’s your problem with me?”

His head jerked back. “Nothing. I have no problem with you.”

“Yes, you do. You’re being a big jerk to me. I’m sorry if I showed up and cramped your bachelor lifestyle or whatever the hell you’re pissed off at me about. I’m not going to get in your way. Is it that much trouble to have a passenger on the drive to the arena?”

His eyelids lowered and he finished chewing the protein bar, tossing the foil wrapper on the plate. “No,” he finally said, brushing his fingertips together. He rose from the stool, and holy hell and shitfire, he absolutely dominated the space in that dark, gorgeous suit. “It’s no trouble. Sure you can have a ride. And sorry. You’re not ‘cramping my style,’ whatever the hell that means.”

“Well,
something’s
wrong,” she muttered. “But thanks for the ride. I won’t even talk, if that’ll make it better for you.”

He picked up his plate, moved around the big island to dump the contents into the trash, and slide the plate into the dishwasher. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. “I don’t believe you could do that.”

She stared at him. “Do what?”

“Not talk the entire way there.”

Her mouth fell open, but then she caught the faint twitch of the corners of his mouth. Was he actually…teasing her? She rolled her lips together briefly, then admitted, “You’re probably right.”

She caught a flash of those white teeth in a brief smile. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed her boots and sat on a stool to pull them on and zip them up. “Duncan!” she yelled.

She heard his muffled, “What?”

“I’m getting a ride with Marc. We’re leaving now.”

He appeared so fast she blinked. “What?” He shot Marc a questioning glare.

Marc shrugged, jingling a set of keys. “She asked. It’s not a problem.”

“Oh, for the love of cheese.” She headed to the closet and pulled out a puffy black down jacket. She looped a big multi-colored knit scarf around her neck and grabbed the matching mitts. Her purse was on a small table and she picked it up. “Let’s go. Let me know what you’re doing after,” she said to Duncan. “If we don’t meet up, I’ll take a taxi home.” She paused. “Have a good game.”

“Thanks.”

They left the condo and rode the elevator to the underground parking. Marc’s vehicle wasn’t much different from Duncan’s—a sport utility vehicle in a shiny charcoal color. He may have been being rude, but deep down he was obviously a gentleman, because he beeped the locks as they approached the SUV, then opened the door for her. He put out a hand to help her in, even. Nice.

Then she paused. “Isn’t that Duncan’s new truck?” She nodded at the vehicle next to Marc’s.

“Yeah.”

She looked at the words “For Sale” painted in red on the window with a cellphone number beneath. Duncan’s cellphone number. Her head snapped around to look at Marc. “Did you do that?”

His lips twitched. “Hey, I’m Captain Codger. I’m not into pranks.”

He totally had done that. “He’s going to lose his shit when he sees it.”

“Probably. He also probably already has about ten voicemails asking how much he wants for it.”

Lovey laughed out loud and he helped her into the vehicle.

Marc pulled out onto streets that were slushy and messy. The snowfall had basically stopped, although the sky was still overcast and it was approaching the early evening dusk.

“You’re a good driver,” she commented as he navigated the snowy streets and traffic with ease.

“See. You couldn’t do it.”

She opened her mouth to ask,
Do what?
then realized, and snapped it closed. She sighed. She’d forgotten that promise. Ah well. She’d already admitted he was right about her inability to keep quiet. “I gave you a compliment!”

He flashed a sideways glance her way; the corners of his mouth lifted. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Where did you grow up? Quebec, right?”

“Right. Rimouski.”

He said the word with a rolled “r” and so fast she wasn’t actually sure what the name of the town was. She wasn’t going to admit that. She’d Google it later. She needed to learn French. “It snows a lot there?”

“Damn right it does.”

“Is it a big city?”

He chuckled. “No. About forty-five thousand people. A good size but definitely not big.”

“Did you grow up speaking French?”

“Oui
.
”

She grinned.

“Everything is French there.” He shrugged, just a hint of French accenting his words. “But my father is Anglophone, so I grew up learning both languages at home. I went to a French school, but I ended up playing junior hockey in Halifax, Nova Scotia, staying with an English family. Everyone on the team spoke English.”