Lainey Likes the Wrong Damn Hockey Player

 

“Too bad I have that stupid work assignment coming up,” I say to Brent.

I don’t want to rain on our parade of happiness, but the truth remains that I have a job commitment—the upcoming client in LA—that promises to separate us.

“Shit.” He rubs his hand down his chiseled face. “I was hoping things could go back to the way they were. You know, you coming to the games to watch me play, traveling with the team, that sort of thing.”

He doesn’t add that he simply likes me being there for him. And I want to be there for him. Hell, I want to be Brent’s, well, everything.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I say, “There’s another issue we have to address.”

“What’s that?”

“I have to call my boss. He needs to know about our relationship, and it’s better he hears about it from me, as opposed to through the media.”

“True,” Brent agrees.

I contact Mr. Delahunty the very next day and inform him of the change in my relationship status. I’m careful to let on like our romantic relationship started after the contract was terminated, a minor detail to protect us all.

Mr. Delahunty seems to suspect otherwise—he’s no dummy—but he leaves it be. He then tells me the celebrity in LA I’m supposed to take on as a new client in early January has been admitted to the hospital for “exhaustion,” a common code word for rehab.

This dude is sure to be a pain in the ass, I can tell already. But then again, aren’t they all?

Mr. Delahunty finishes the call by saying, “We don’t need you to fly out to LA until February.”

I’m thrilled, and when I disconnect I relay the good news to Brent.

“This is awesome, Aubs. That gives us the whole month of January before you have to leave.”

I’m excited to have plenty of time ahead to spend with Brent, but there’s another concern we’ve neglected to address. “How should we announce to the world—to the hockey world, at least—that we’re together?”

“Maybe we should release a sex tape?” he suggests with a waggle of his brows.

“You’re twisted,” I retort.

But then he leans back against the counter in my kitchen, and for this one crazy minute I don’t want him to be kidding. In his faded jeans and white button-down shirt Brent looks sexy as hell, so much so that I actually find myself considering the sex tape idea.

Taking a step toward him, I suggestively throw out, “Whether we make a tape or not, we should rehearse first.”

“Definitely,” he wholeheartedly agrees.

There’s never going to be a sex tape release, but that afternoon we rehearse as if there is.

Later that night we return to Las Vegas for Brent’s game, which is the next day. It’s not until seven in the evening, though, so when he arrives home after an early morning practice, we end up hanging out and talking in his living room.

Talking of course leads to making out. And then things, as they always do, get heated pretty quickly.

When half my clothes are scattered across the living room floor, I remember to remind Brent to close the blinds.

“Eh, no one can see us in here,” he says. “And even if they could, who cares? I say we leave the blinds as they are.”

He’s hovering over me, and I smack one of his rock-solid biceps. “Ow.” I shake out my hand. “Your damn muscles are getting harder all the time. I swear they’re like freaking steel.”

Brent chuckles smugly. He loves when I stroke his ego like that. But it’s true, so once I’ve determined nothing is broken, I go on, “For the record, the answer to your big idea of leaving the blinds open is a big fat no. Get up and close the freaking things, Brent.”

“Okay, okay.” He stands and heads over to the windows. “It was just a random thought.”

I flip over onto my stomach and stare at him, shaking my head. “What is it with you and exhibitionism?”

He cocks a brow as he looks over at me. “What do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday there was the sex tape idea.”

“That was a joke, Aubrey.”

“Still, you were really into having sex in front of Al back in Chicago.”

Brent levels me with an oh-please look. “He’s a stuffed animal, babe.”

“A stuffed animal you’re clearly jealous of. Like, insanely so.”

“So what if I am?” When I start laughing, he warns, “You’re going to pay for giggling at me like that.”

With the blinds all closed, he stalks toward me.

I scoot back.

When he continues his pursuit, I stand and try to take off. But Brent’s way too fast. He catches me in a heartbeat and scoops me up in his arms. Amid my half-hearted protests, he tosses me onto the sofa. He joins me and the rest of our clothes are discarded.

Safe to say there’s no more talk of Al.

Afterward, the issue we never resolved comes up—how should we let everyone know we’re officially dating.

I suddenly have an idea. “Hey, New Year’s Eve is coming up. Didn’t you mention something about Nolan throwing a party?”

“He is having one,” Brent confirms. “But I have to warn you now it’ll be a huge drink-fest.”

“We don’t have to get drunk.” I turn in Brent’s arms to face him. “I mean, I’m sure we’ll have a glass of champagne to ring in the New Year. But we can pass on the hard stuff. Besides, Benny will be there, right?”

“He’s supposed to go.”

“Well, he won’t be drinking at all. We can hang with him.”

Brent nods. “Okay, sure, that’ll work.” Suddenly, after a moment of contemplation, he throws out, “Do you think we should invite Lainey to the party? She’s on Christmas break, and we could finally introduce her to Benny.”

Though we’ve always believed those two would be a cute couple, I have my reservations.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I hedge. “Benny may be clean and sober these days, but he still has a raging puck bunny problem.”

Brent can’t argue with me on that one. But he does bring up a good point when he remarks, “It’s not like anyone is suggesting marriage here. We don’t even know if they’ll like each other.”

“True.” After a long pause, I carefully inquire, “Benny doesn’t have any diseases, does he?”

“God, Aubrey.”

“What? I need to know for Lainey’s sake. He’s a super slut, so it’s not an outrageous thing to ask.”

Brent sighs, and then he assures me, “He’s clean, Aubrey. Not only does he use protection, like, all the time, but we get tested for shit like that every couple months. You know that. That’s why you agreed to go on the pill. You told me you wanted to ditch the condoms as much as I do, remember?”

He’s right. We’re tired of the hassle. Plus, since we want each other pretty much all the time, it’d be nice to be more spontaneous.

With my worries about Benny lifted, I invite Lainey out to Las Vegas for Nolan’s little gathering. She accepts, and I fly her out the next day.

New Year’s Eve rolls around, and as planned we all convene at the party at Nolan’s palatial home down the street. Brent and I don’t make a formal announcement that we’re together, but it’s pretty clear to everyone when we walk in the door arm-in-arm that we’re official.

Funny, no one seems surprised. A lot of the guys knew all along, but like Benny and Nolan, they were trying to be cool about it to keep our secret under wraps.

The one person our relationship is news to is Brent’s agent, Jock. He’s at the party too, so we spring it on him at his favorite spot to hang—the bar.

Surprising to both Brent and me, Jock loves that we’re together.

“This is going to do a lot to rehabilitate your image after that lap dance video,” he tells Brent before downing what’s left of his whiskey on the rocks.

Sad to report that, yes, Brent lost two endorsement deals because of that stupid video. Consequently, Jock is not about to let an opportunity to remake Brent’s image as a committed relationship guy flitter away.

As the next hour goes by, Jock remains by our sides. He makes certain we’re in lots of selfies, mostly with other players and their significant others, ensuring we’ll be plastered all over social media by tomorrow.

Lainey hangs with us as we make the rounds with Jock, but she’s sure to bow out of the photos, lest she be pegged as Brent’s girlfriend, seeing as we look so similar.

Another scandal is all we need.

“So, Aubrey,” Lainey begins as she pulls me away from Brent and Jock so we can talk.

I almost topple over in the five-inch heels I’m wearing, leaving me to mumble, “I swear I’ll never get used to high heels.” Lainey crosses her arms, looking impatient, and I ask, “What?”

“Where’s Thor?”

She remembered Benny from the party way back in August, but as Thor. When I told her Thor and Benny were one and the same, she was all about meeting him tonight.

“His name is Benjamin, not Thor,” I remind her as I smooth my flowy red sequin halter down over the low rise of my skinny jeans.

“Yes, yes, I know.” She glances around the packed living room. ”So where is he?”

Brent comes over to where we’re talking, having lost Jock in the crowd. I can’t take my eyes off him. You’d think we’d been apart for days, as opposed to five minutes. Oh hell, what can I say? Brent is stunningly handsome in the sleek black suit he chose to wear tonight, leaving me simultaneously in awe of and in lust with him.

But my libido is put on hold when I see he’s frowning. “Uh-oh, what’s wrong now?”

He sighs as he throws an apologetic glance at Lainey. “I have some bad news. Benny just sent a text. He’s decided to stay home tonight.”

Lainey is clearly disappointed, but takes it well. “Maybe we can meet another time,” she says.

“Yeah, maybe.” I sigh.

Brent opens his mouth to no doubt chime in with something reassuring, but just then Nolan, clad in a dark suit of his own, one that makes him look like a spy or a secret agent, comes over and puts his slimy arms around me and Brent.

He’s a little drunk and his words are slightly slurred, especially when he says, “Which one of you lovebirds is going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature hanging out with you tonight?”

He then nods to my sister.

Yes, my sister, who instead of being offended like she damn well should be, starts lapping up Nolan’s pervy attention like a thirsty bitch in heat. The two of them can’t hide their lust when they start undressing each other with their eyes.

Ugh.

“Not me,” I announce as I hip-check Nolan away from me and into Brent.

He laughs. “Damn, Oliver, maybe we should get Aubrey on the roster.”

Brent laughs right along with his friend. “I told you, Solvenson, don’t mess with my girl. She’s back, and she’s feistier than ever. She’ll lay you out in a minute.”

“Clearly,” Nolan mutters.

Brent then does the honor and introduces Lainey to Nolan.

Lainey, eyes dreamily focused on Nolan, says to him in her most sultry tone, “For the record, Nolan, you can mess with me anytime you want. And you might like the way I lay you out.”

What the ever-loving…?

Brent and I gape at each other, and then at my deranged sister. Nolan, loving it, slips away from us and goes to stand next to her, where they engage in flirty conversation.

“How much champagne did she have?” Brent murmurs to me.

“I don’t know, but apparently enough that she’s totally channeling her inner puck bunny.”

“Who knew she had one?” he remarks.

“Not me. She usually hates sports.”

“Like someone else I know.”

“What? I love sports.”

He gives me a look, and I quickly amend, “Well, I love hockey.”

“You didn’t at first.”

“Yeah, and that’s a tragedy. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

Draping his arm around me, he says softly, “I’d like to think I’ve been a part of the reason for your change of heart.”

“Part of the reason?” I peer up at him, hoping he sees the love in my eyes. “More like pretty much the whole reason. You’re a good hockey ambassador, Brent Oliver.”

We share a quick peck, but then I notice Nolan is successfully charming Lainey.

When he makes her laugh, I elbow Brent and say, “Seriously, we need to stop this from happening.”

I do not want Nolan and my sister hooking up. I hate him, and I love her. This has the makings of an epic disaster.

But before Brent and I can intercede, Nolan and Lainey stroll away from us. I overhear him asking if she’d like a refill on her champagne. Damn charmer. I also don’t miss the way his hand is resting low on the small of her back, which is totally exposed in the short, shimmery gold lamé dress she has on.

“He better not sleep with her,” I warn Brent.

“Why are you griping to me?” he retorts. “They’re two consenting adults.”

“I guess you’re right,” I grudgingly concede.

Brent then has the balls to say to me, “Word is Nolan has a way with the ladies. If they do hook up tonight Lainey might end up having the time of her—”

I smack his arm. “What the hell, Brent? Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Leaning down to kiss me, and thus placate me, he says, “Yours, babe. I will always be on your side.”

I make out with him for a few minutes because, well, he’s freaking Brent Oliver. And we’re in love. But then I come to my senses and pull back. “Brent, seriously, can you try and save my sister from your hockey-whore friend?”

Sighing, he steps back and says, “Let me see if I can get him alone for a minute and talk to him.”

“Be sure to warn him that I’ll castrate him if he hurts Lainey.”

Brent mutters, “Damn, Aubrey, that’s a little harsh. Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Aw…” I go to him and slide my arms up around his neck. And then I whisper, “Don’t worry. I’d never, ever, ever harm that part of you.”

Grinding that part of him against me, he murmurs, “No, I have a feeling you wouldn’t. You like what I do to you with it way too much.”

I grind right the hell back, and he gets hard instantly. “Yes, sir,” I breathe out. “I sure do.”

Brent glances around. “We should get out of here.”

“What about Lainey? What about talking with Nolan?”

“They’ll be fine. Nolan is probably about to pass out anyway.”

I’m not so sure about that—Nolan’s not known for passing out when he drinks—but I know in my heart that my sister can take care of herself.

Sliding my hands down to Brent’s firm ass, I say, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

We take off to ring in the New Year the best way I can think of—with Brent Oliver buried deep inside me.