The Season: Rush (Austin Arrows #1) (10 page)

Ellie

I arrive at the Penalty Box at exactly seven o’clock, just as I promised Noelle I would. It was a mad rush picking Bianca up from school, stopping by the rink to once again chat with Amber, dropping Bianca at home, making her dinner, and then damn near breaking every speed law to get back here, but I made it. A little sweaty, maybe, but testing one’s deodorant is never a bad thing. I only hope mine holds up.

“Hey, Ellie!”

Noelle’s younger sister, Julie, practically tackles me when I step into the restaurant, running right up to me and giving me a skinny-armed bear hug that makes me wonder how we don’t bounce apart when our boobs collide. Like beach balls. Or water balloons. It’s an odd visual, but one that makes me smile. With a chuckle, I hug the woman quickly.

“I’m so glad you’re here. It’s gonna be cool working here for a few months,” Julie rambles, her eyes lit with excitement.

I try to hide my confusion, but based on Julie’s frown, I fail.

“Noelle called. Asked me if I’d fill in for a while?”

I raise my eyebrows, hoping Julie will elaborate.

“I know how busy the season is. From what Noelle told me, you’ll be gone a lot.”

Oh, right.

Hockey season.

Kingston.

Pretend girlfriend.

“I told her this came at a perfect time since I’m taking the year off from school. Trying to save some money, you know. I’ve been helping out at my friend’s day care, but the whole kid thing … it’s not easy for me. This is so much better.”

I must’ve forgotten how much Julie rambles.

“So, here I am and I’m excited to be helping out. I can work whatever hours you need, whenever you need me. Just holler. I’ll come running.”

I nod. “Gotcha.”

Without taking a breath, Julie blurts out, “Is it true that you’re dating Kingston Rush?”

Obviously it is now.

Before I get to answer, Noelle strolls up, a huge grin on her face.

“Hey. I see you two’ve had a chance to talk,” she offers as she breezes on by.

“We have,” I call after her, narrowing my eyes. Noelle knows I don’t like surprises.

Granted, I like Julie. She’s like a kid sister to me. She has filled in for us before, usually on a part-time basis when one of us needed time off. Julie is one of the few people we’ve had working here who can easily handle damn near any job we ask, including tackling multiple tasks at a time without getting frazzled. There are times on big game nights when things get chaotic, customers will end up waiting at the door for over an hour just to get in, but Julie usually keeps things calm and under control. Probably doesn’t hurt that Julie chooses to wear a white button-down shirt and jeans that look as though they quite possibly could be a size too small. Oh, and she looks like she’s all of sixteen, though she celebrated her twenty-seventh birthday this year.

“Well, I’m looking forward to having you here,” I tell her, purposely ignoring her last question as I take a step back. “I’m just gonna put my purse in my office.”

“Okay. See you in a bit,” Julie says, her expression going from peppy to ecstatic as she peers over my shoulder.

I’m not sure I want to know what (or who) Julie is looking at, so I pretend not to notice. That lasts all of ten seconds before I feel big, beefy arms wrap around me, warm breath tickling my neck.

So, it’s in this moment that the world pauses, the air stops blowing, all the people cease their chattering, and all movement stops. Like in the movies when people are suspended in time. Every one of my senses focuses on the two strong arms curled around me, the intoxicating scent that fills my nostrils, the strength of the chest that presses against me. And for three solid seconds, nothing matters except how freaking good it feels to have this man actually touching me. I’ve imagined it, but this … this makes my body hum, and I don’t want it to end.

Unfortunately, it does. The world comes into focus, the noise returns, people are once again animated. I’m still standing here in the circle of Kingston’s arms, and I can only think that I haven’t had sex in three freaking years.

Crap.

“Hey, babe. You didn’t answer my text.”

“Hey,” I reply to Kingston, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. It’s not like I can admit that I’ve never been this turned on by such limited physical contact before. “I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“You would’ve if you answered your text.”

Right. I saw Kingston’s text but hadn’t yet had time to answer. He mentioned something about a date, and since tonight isn’t a good night, I opted to hold off on responding. I make a mental note to do so in the future or risk having him show up unannounced.

Not that I mind, but again, I’m not a fan of surprises.

I manage to extricate myself from his bear hug, then turn to face him.

When I meet those dark brown eyes, I see a twinkle of mischief there.

The man really is obscenely attractive. Especially when he looks as casual as he does now, wearing a plain black T-shirt that stretches across his impressive upper body, hugging every glorious plane and angle.

Oh, and he smells so good.

Realizing Julie is still watching us, I smile at her. “I’m just gonna … go put my purse up.”

“Cool.” Julie is staring at Kingston like a cheerleader with a crush on the football captain.

“You got this?” I nod toward a couple standing at the front waiting to be seated.

“Yes, ma’am,” she says cheerfully as she spins around and practically skips over to the hostess stand. “Welcome to the Penalty Box. We’re so excited you’re here.”

Funny how Julie actually sounds as though she is genuinely thrilled that those two strangers have chosen this particular restaurant to frequent tonight. Maybe that’s part of her charm.

I chuckle, then remember that I have an uber-sexy hockey player at my back. I turn to find Kingston watching me closely, his dark eyes even darker, as though he’s thinking something devious and dirty. Knowing him, he is.

I swallow hard because it seems the Sahara Desert has relocated to my throat, then head through the dimly lit place toward my office in the back, waving to the bartender and two of the waitresses who are already serving drinks to the dinner crowd.

When I step into the hallway, the country music that is playing in the bar fades, and the only sounds are those of my labored breaths and the footsteps of the big man behind me.

“Are you following me?” I ask, peering at Kingston over my shoulder.

“Nothing gets by you, yeah?”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, let me rephrase that.
Why
are you following me?”

I open my office door and step inside, Kingston right on my heels.

“That’s what boyfriends do, no?”

“Kingston…” I spin around to face him, ready to tell him that there is no reason to pretend when no one is around, but his hand covers my mouth before the words are out.

The sexy smirk on his lips makes my inner muscles clench. I am more than a little tempted to lick his hand. Just because.

“From here on out, we’re going to pretend. All the time. That’s the deal, yeah?”

I nod, his big, warm hand still covering my mouth. Being this close to him… My knees suddenly feel like noodles, and my body temperature is steadily climbing.

“Good. So there’s no reason for you to deny it. The less you do, the more people will believe it.”

I lift an eyebrow, a signal for him to remove his hand.

He clearly understands because his hand falls to his side, but his eyes never leave my face.

“That doesn’t mean you have to follow me to my office. Sitting at the bar, having a drink would work, too.”

Kingston grins, his gaze scanning the tiny space where sometimes paperwork gets done. “I wanted to see your office.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it before.” Truthfully, I have no idea because I can’t think past three minutes ago when he first put his arms around me.

Nor do I care.

His eyes meet mine again. “Yeah, but I haven’t seen it since you became my girlfriend.”

The deep rumble of his voice finds its way into me, swirling around and causing a delicious tingle that starts between my legs. What it is about him that infatuates me so much, I can’t possibly explain. Maybe it’s that rough baritone. Or his rugged good looks. Perhaps it’s his near-perfect physique. Or it could be the fact that when you step into a room with Kingston in it, there is absolutely no question who is in charge. The man exudes a ridiculous amount of masculine power.

Whatever it is, it should be illegal to be that damn sexy.

I cock an eyebrow. “Whatever.”

Trying to pretend he doesn’t affect me nearly as much as he does, I go to the safe in the wall, unlock it, and slide my purse inside.

“You done admiring my office?” I ask when I turn back to find him staring at my ass.

That smirk returns and my nipples harden.

I ignore them.

Knowing I can’t be distracted because I have a job to do, I shake off the ill-timed lust and head back out to the bar. My moment of weakness a thing of the past.

The night passes by quickly, which isn’t surprising considering how busy we’ve been. Although we cater to
all
sports, hockey is our main priority, hence the name. Wednesday nights are generally slow—relatively speaking. Most of the Arrows games are played on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and the occasional Friday. Of course, there are the Wednesday Night Rivalry games, but since those haven’t yet included many teams from our division, it’s not usually a big deal. That makes Wednesday somewhat of a rest day for us. However, all bets are off on nights before home games.

Since the Penalty Box happens to be the official hangout for the Austin Arrows players, we’ve come to expect a certain amount of business. With the season underway and the first official game only two days away, the fans are beginning to emerge once more, eager for their hockey fix.

Occupancy usually doubles when the players show up. And tonight they did.

Some of the favorites made an appearance—Patrick Benne, Mattias Valeri, Colton Seguine, Jesse Evans, and Josh Locke—keeping things lively. Since that’s a frequent occurrence, it doesn’t bother me that things haven’t gotten completely out of hand.

Luckily, we’ve had zero incidents to deal with, which, unlike our frequent clientele, isn’t always the case. At the Penalty Box, the theoretical two-year-old-mashed-potato-fight occurs damn near every night—and once it even happened for real (funny, since we don’t serve mashed potatoes). Then again, I’m mostly in the business of booze and sports, and with so much testosterone in the place, things tend to get a little heated, especially as the night wears on.

Speaking of… I glance at my watch. It’s almost two, which means we’ll be closing shortly.

“Good night, huh?” Noelle asks, coming to stand beside me at the bar.

“So far,” I tell her, grinning. We know better than to think we are out of the woods until all the patrons have dispersed. It’s amazing what drunk people can do in a matter of a few minutes if so inclined.

“I see your boy toy hung around all night.” Noelle nods toward the group of oversized men sitting in the far corner. “And he’s not even drinking.”

I follow Noelle’s gaze to the group in the corner. A gaggle of girls has gathered around them, smiling and laughing as though everything they have to say is the funniest shit they’ve ever heard.

“He doesn’t drink the week of their first game,” I tell Noelle.

Noelle’s eyebrow quirks and a smile forms. “Something he told you? Or something you noticed?”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Something I picked up on long ago.”

“Right.”

Okay, so I know Kingston better than I’ll admit. Not that I know everything about him, but I do know a lot.

“I’m pretty sure that chick’s checkin’ out your man,” Noelle notes, nodding toward a particularly busty brunette wearing a tiny halter and even smaller skirt.

“He’s not my man,” I rumble absently.

“For all intents and purposes, he is.”

I glare at my best friend.

Noelle’s smile widens. “You better go show her whose boobs are bigger or things might get awkward.”

I’m pretty sure that girl’s boobs are bigger than mine, but I understand what Noelle means. Since it is my job to be Kingston’s girlfriend—at least for the foreseeable future—I really need to go stake my claim.

Not that I want to.

Okay, I kind of do.

Sighing, I toss the towel I’ve been using to wipe down the bar onto the shelf below and make my way out onto the floor.

Pasting a smile on my face, I stop at one of the tables occupied by a couple who are grinning as they chat quietly. “Can I get you anything else? We’ll be closing in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, wow. Time flies,” the woman replies, her gaze leaving her companion only briefly to look up at me. “I think we’re good.”

“Thanks for coming.” I gently pat the table, then move to the next one, this one with four women laughing uncontrollably. “Y’all good?”

“We are, thanks.”

Taking a deep breath, I head toward the rowdy section. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, I have to fight the urge to run the other direction. Instead, I shore up my resolve, straighten my shoulders, and walk right up to Kingston’s side.