Mackenzie
Because Galveston didn’t have an ice arena, and the nearest option was Houston, Johnny Pepper simply built one.
At first he’d had trouble getting the necessary go-ahead for the construction and it looked like he would need to set up his hockey team in Houston. But Johnny Pepper would rather cut off his right arm than do that and rumor had it, he had to pass over some serious cash to speed things along.
When the approvals for construction went through, Pepper Industries built a state-of-the-art ice center to rival all the major sporting arenas, such as Madison Square Garden in New York, and the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit. It was rumored to cost more than two-hundred million, which apparently wasn’t even a dent in Johnny Pepper’s oil fortune.
Johnny had hoped the new arena and all the big money would result in the Galveston Fury becoming leading contenders for the Stanley Cup. But after six bad seasons, it looked like all the money in the world couldn’t turn it around for the directionless team.
Now, it seemed, he was pinning all his hopes on a grumpy coach fresh out of retirement, and an ex-hockey star who wasn’t quite sure what the hell he was even doing there.
Jake and I, and a NHL certified member of the legal team at Eden, Fox & Coulter, joined Coach Sandusky in his office to deal with the paperwork. Now, Jake was signing on the dotted line. I sat next to him, watching him with pride as he made a season commitment to the Galveston Fury. He looked up at me and winked and for some stupid reason, tears began to form at the back of my eyes.
Jake Pennington was back.
Before Coach Sandusky signed, he asked if he could have a few moments alone with Jake. I had looked at my gloriously handsome hockey boyfriend, who nodded.
After saying goodbye to my colleague from the agency, I waited in the rink where four Fury players were participating in some kind of scrimmage. When they noticed me watching them, three of them skated over to me.
“Well, hello, lovely lady,” the tallest of the players greeted me with a flirtatious grin. “They call me Jupiter and these two hairy louts here are Casanova and Cowboy.”
The hockey players sized me up and I sized them up right back. Although, with Jupiter, it was more like he was checking me out.
“I’m Mackenzie,” I said, shaking his hand. “Jake’s agent.”
Jake and I had agreed to keep our involvement quiet for the meantime. To his new team, I was simply his agent.
“Jake Pennington? Ah, yes, Coach told us he was coming onboard.” Jupiter said. He looked and sounded like Tom Ellis from Lucifer. Same dark hair and poise. Same sing-song cadence of an English accent. Even their mannerisms were the same. “And you’re his agent? That’s so sexy.”
“Ignore him,” said the man I now knew as Casanova. He took my hand and kissed it. “He thinks everything is sexy. But then again, since it involves a beautiful woman I must admit he got it right this time.” Casanova was smooth and I couldn’t help but smile at how charming he was.
Casanova was the Rob Lowe of the group. Devastatingly good looking but without a single shred of arrogance about it. You could tell he knew he was hot—I mean, he’d have to be blind not to know it—but he certainly didn’t seem affected by it.
I turned to look at Cowboy who was leaning against his hockey stick.
“Hey, darlin’” he said with a wink. He was attractive but not in the league of the others. Until he smiled. Then that boy was beautiful.
The fourth hockey player stayed out on the ice but kept circling past us like he was working up to a driveby. He was obviously sizing me up as he did slow passes by us, and going by the look on his face he was suspicious of me.
“Who’s that?” he called out to Casanova, Cowboy, and Jupiter as if I wasn’t even there. Subtlety obviously wasn’t his strong suit.
“This is Mackenzie,” Jupiter called back.
The lone hockey player did another circle, his inquisitive and wary eyes fixed on me.
“What does she want?” he called across the ice—again, as if I wasn’t even there.
“She’s Jake’s agent,” Jupiter replied.
Another circle later and the lone hockey player pulled his mask down and skated off without another word.
“And that charming and charismatic young pup is Loki the Destroyer—resident number one goalie,” Jupiter said.
“Friendly,” I replied, a little confused by Loki’s attitude toward me.
“Don’t worry, he’s just socially awkward,” Casanova explained. “He’s wary of strangers and he doesn’t like change.”
“It takes him a while to warm to people,” Cowboy added.
“Kid is as crazy as a fox,” Jupiter said. “But a damn good goalie.”
Jake returned with Coach.
“Well?” I asked.
“It’s done,” Coach said, giving Jake a pat on the back.
Jake looked at me. “Looks like I’m moving to Galveston.”
Our eyes lingered for a moment as his words sank in. Jake was actually going to play for the Galveston Fury. It was really happening.
“Welcome to the Fury, bro,” Cowboy said, offering Jake a hand.
“Thanks, man.”
Casanova and Jupiter followed suit.
“I think this calls for a celebratory drink!” Jupiter said, clapping his hands together, and we all agreed.
We ended up in a saloon-style bar called Stars & Stetsons, a quintessential Texas honky tonk where the smell of old leather and timber lingered in the air, alongside the pungent scent of stale alcohol. On stage, two guys and a girl sat on stools with their guitars, singing a country song I didn’t recognize. However, Cowboy did, and he started singing along loud and proud.
Casanova immediately lined shots up on the bar and we all did them. I lost count after the fourth.
Later, when Casanova, Cowboy, and Jupiter joined the band on stage to help sing Linda Ronstadt’s Blue Bayou, I asked Jake what Coach had wanted to talk to him about.
“He wanted to know where my head was at,” he said, flinching at how bad his teammates were singing. They were out of key and totally failed to hit any of the high notes in the song. “He wanted to know how I felt about joining the team. Where I was at with Tyler’s death.”
“And?”
“I told him the truth. That I’m good. That it had taken a while but I was on the road to recovery. And it’s all true, because I am.” He gave me an unguarded look. One full of affection. “Because of you.”
I shook my head. “No. Jake. It’s because of you.”
His hand slid to mine. “Don’t underestimate what you’ve done, Z. I’m here because you believed in me.”
Loki came crashing into us, breaking the moment between us. He was full of beer and determined to burn a hole in the dance floor. When I looked back to Jake, he winked at me and I realized with absolutely clarity that I was crazy in love with him.
Later, when the band started to sing Glenn Campbell’s Galveston, we were all drunk enough to sing along. Out of key but united as one bad voice we all sang with pride, our arms draped along one another’s shoulders as we massacred the classic. But as bad as we were, everyone in the bar seemed to appreciate it, and before long they were all singing along, too.
When the song finished, Jake came up behind me and leaned into me.
“I’m dying to touch you,” he whispered into my ear, sending shivers up my spine.
I couldn’t help but smile. I was dying for him to touch me.
“Nice to know that singing country music makes you horny,” I said, enjoying the heat of his body up against mine.
His lips grazed my throat as he leaned in. “No, my girlfriend does.” He guided my hand to his groin and held it hard against the hardness there.
I twisted around to face him and he gave me a look so loaded with heat it made my toes curl.
“Come on. I’m ten seconds away from kissing you so if you want to keep our façade up any longer we’re going to have to leave,” he said.
“Oh, yeah, and what happens when we leave?”
He pressed his lips to my ear. “I’m going to fuck you, baby. And I’m going to keep fucking you until you scream my name. Do you understand? Over. And. Over.”
We made a hasty retreat from the saloon and raced back to the hotel where Jake did exactly what he had promised, right into the early hours of the next day.
* * *