Risk on Ice Page 2

  “Dude” is all he says when he picks up.

  It’s enough.

  “I know, I know.” I blow out a breath. “This looks bad.”

  “Bad?” he scoffs. “That’s an understatement. Why didn’t you mention last night at dinner that this pic was out there?”

  “I really didn’t even think about it,” I state truthfully. “It was never supposed to be posted anywhere.”

  Sebastian laughs dryly. “Well, it’s posted everywhere now, dude.”

  “Ugh.” I sigh. “It is, I know. I think everyone has seen it now too.”

  Clearing his throat, Sebastian says, “I’m guessing that means you heard from management?”

  “I have,” I confirm. “The director of player operations, Mr. Smith, texted me a few minutes ago.”

  “When does he want to see you?” Sebastian asks.

  “Today at noon. He said there will be others with him.”

  My friend lets out a low whistle. “Damn, that sucks. This is fast. It’s Sunday morning. Management must be really fucking pissed about this.”

  “Thanks,” I mutter sarcastically. “That makes me feel so much better.”

  Sounding contrite, he says, “Ah, man, I’m sorry.”

  Quietly, I murmur, “Who else do you think I’ll be meeting up with?”

  “Probably Coach Townsend and the director. Maybe another corporate guy will be with them, like an attorney.”

  “Great.” I close my eyes. “This is not how I wanted to kick off my time here. I think I really am fucked.”

  Sebastian hesitates, then says, “Eh, maybe not. Sure, they’re mad. But, like you, they just want to put this to bed. And, dude, I meant what I wrote in my text. I have an idea on how to get ahead of this.”

  “That’s actually why I’m calling,” I admit. “I need all the guidance I can get. So what are you thinking?”

  Letting out a long sigh, he says, “The Wolves are known for running a tight ship. You heard about what happened to Brent a while back, yeah?”

  I groan. “Yes, I heard.”

  Everyone knows about Brent and his life coach, Aubrey. It worked out in the end, as they fell in love. But I doubt lightning would ever strike twice. I’d probably get the meanest, cruelest life coach on the planet assigned to me.

  Sebastian goes on and I pay attention to him. “Okay, so anyway, I don’t think they’re going to assign you a life coach—”

  “I hope the fuck not,” I interject.

  Chuckling, he says, “However, I do think they’re going to want you in some kind of a controlled environment.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” I ask, genuinely curious and more worried than ever.

  “It could mean a lot of things, Alex. Things like staying with one of us settled-down players for a while as opposed to living in a hotel or in your own place. That’s why I’m thinking you should just get ahead of it and move in with me and Bettina.”

  Caught off-guard, I blurt out, “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me,” Seb says, chuckling. “I think management would approve. Bettina and I are about as settled as any couple out there. You saw us last night at dinner. What do you think?”

  Softly, I agree, “You guys do seem pretty settled.”

  “Right, see. And the best part is you and I are already friends. It wouldn’t be awkward at all.”

  He has a point, but I still have some reservations.

  Raking my hand through my hair, I say, “Ah, man, I don’t know. I hate to ask that of you. Talk about an intrusion. Hell, your woman just moved in with you not that long ago.”

  Sebastian, however, quickly assures me, “It’s no intrusion at all. And you’re not asking, we’re offering. We have a pretty big place with plenty of bedrooms. You don’t even have to stay in the house, though. There’s a nice apartment above the garage. It’s fully furnished and has a whole separate entrance.”

  Hmm, this might not be so bad.

  I think it over and, knowing I’m limited on my choices right now, I say, “I like the apartment-above-the-garage idea. But do you really think management will go for this?”

  “I do,” Sebastian says. “I’ll let them know I’m cool with it as well and that it was my idea. Both are true. And I already asked Bettina. She thinks it’s a smart plan.” He pauses, then adds, “You know what? I just had a thought.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Okay, I know you have a rental car from the team, but why don’t I swing by the hotel and pick you up? We can go to the meeting together. The suits can even draw up some paperwork. If they agree to our plan, we can sign whatever they want and make it official.”

  This truly sounds like the only good option. I’d hate to imagine what kind of living situation the Wolves might come up with.

  I could get stuck with a real douche.

  Or they still could assign me a life coach.

  No way.

  Feeling like this is the only way out of the stupid situation I put my own ass in, I sigh and say, “Okay, let’s do this.”

  Yes, He’s Hot, but He’s Clearly Trouble

  Once I reach Las Vegas, I follow the GPS directions to Sebastian’s neighborhood.

  From what he’s told me, he lives in a small enclave of six very nice, very upscale homes. He sent me a picture of his house after he bought it. It is magnificent, with a stucco exterior, terra-cotta roof, and so much massive square footage that it takes up the whole cul-de-sac on which it’s located.

  Needless to say, I’m excited to see his awesome home in person. But more importantly, I can’t wait to surprise my brother.

  First, though, I have one last stop to make. My stupid stomach is grumbling like crazy, demanding a small snack.

  It’s no surprise, as I haven’t eaten a proper meal today, besides breakfast.

  So food first.

  Yeah, I would never just waltz into Sebastian’s house and expect him or Bettina to provide me with something to eat, especially since it’s getting late.

  Yeah, no, that’s not happening.

  So I take the next exit and search for an open fast-food joint with a drive-thru.

  I find a place pretty quickly, and several minutes later, I’m parked in a space on the side of the building, chowing down on fries straight from the brown bag in which they came.

  “Not the most nutritious snack, but these are delicious,” I murmur as, with my free hand, I pick up my phone to check for messages.

  There aren’t any, no new emails either, but there is an alert from a well-known hockey blog that I follow.

  Yep, Sebastian isn’t the only one in the family who loves the sport.

  I open the alert to find a post about how the Wolves’ most recent trade acquisition, a guy, Alex Hartwell, who played on another team with my brother, is in some hot water.

  “Pfft, I can see why,” I scoff around the fry I just popped into my mouth as I check out the accompanying photo.

  It’s a selfie of Alex and two puck bunny-type blondes positioned lasciviously on either side of him. His black tee is pulled up, and the women are scratching their long powder-pink nails down his rather impressive taut abs.

  Oh, and everyone’s tongues are out.

  Please.

  The whole scene is obnoxious, but there is one thing I can’t help but notice—this Hartwell dude has some freaking amazing abs.

  “Talk about a six-pack,” I murmur as I run my thumb over the image of his nice torso. Sighing, I add, “Yes, he’s hot, but he’s clearly trouble.”

  I recall reading about his former partying ways right after he was traded to the Wolves.

  He’s supposed to be reformed.

  But this pic tells an entirely different story.

  He’s still up to his old ways.

  But, damn, the guy is cute.

  I can’t deny that.

  He would’ve been my kind of man, for sure, back in the day, what with his sculpted body, chiseled jaw, cute dimples, and mussed up auburn hair that makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

  Mmm, bet he’s wild in the sack.

  But I’ll never know, as I’m done with his kind.

  Not that I’d really have any dealings with him, anyway. If I stay in town for a while, I may see him at some hockey functions, but that’s about it.

  Why do I feel a little disappointed about that?

  Am I crazy?

  Maybe so, as I touch the screen once more, wondering what all those hard ridges would feel like under my fingertips.

  His puck bunny friends sure know.

  Bitches!

  Okay, this long drive has obviously gotten to me.

  I shake my head, clearing my thoughts and tossing my phone aside as I run my hands down my jean-clad thighs.

  One thing for sure—it is definitely time to go.

  New Living Arrangements

  Sebastian picks me up at my hotel in his siren-red Lamborghini, and we then drive to the Desert Sports Complex, where the Wolves play and the management offices are located.

  “Here goes nothing,” I say, sighing, as we pull into the players’ lot.

  “You’re going to be fine,” my friend assures me as he parks and cuts the engine.

  Shit, I hope he’s right.

  After we go into the facility, we proceed straight to the main conference room to meet with the Wolves’ representatives.

  In attendance is the director of player operations, Mr. Smith, Coach Townsend, and some stuffy corporate-type. I’m so on edge that I don’t even catch the guy’s title or name when we’re introduced.

  After the obligatory handshakes, we take our seats at a long table. Sebastian and I are on one side, with the other three guys seated across from us.

  With the sound of my blood rushi
ng in my ears as I prepare for the worst, the meeting gets underway.

  First off, I notice Coach is disappointed. He doesn’t say so, but his displeasure is clear from his dour expression. Same with Mr. Smith. He’s not real talkative, either, but he frowns a lot and shakes his head.

  Conversely, the corporate dude—apparently he’s an attorney for the team named Mr. Bricker—sure has a lot to say.

  After a stern lecture, most of which I tune out, he clears his throat loudly.

  I look over at him, and he says, “Mr. Hartwell, the bottom line is that the Wolves take player behavior both on and off the ice very seriously.”

  As he adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses, I reply honestly, “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. That picture was a stupid idea, but it was never supposed to get out.”

  “But it did get out,” Mr. Bricker states dryly.

  “Yeah, it did.” I sigh. “And, again, I apologize for that. I clearly had a lapse in judgment. But from this day forward, I promise you nothing like that will ever happen again.”

  “I should hope not,” the attorney scoffs. “That’s why we need to discuss what specific measures you plan to take so no more embarrassing situations like this one occur again.”

  “Of course,” I agree, feeling sorrier by the minute. “I don’t know what to say. I can only try to do better.” I rake my fingers through my hair and add remorsefully, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

  It’s true.

  I’m ready to accept my fate.

  After clearing his throat, Mr. Bricker says, “Excellent. That’s a fine attitude. And it’s a good start. Still, I’m thinking a life coach might be in order.”

  Shit, no.

  Not that option.

  Thankfully, Sebastian jumps in. “If it’s okay with everyone, may I make an alternate suggestion?”

  “Sure,” Mr. Bricker says as the other two men nod in agreement.

  “What if Alex stays with me for a while?” He raises a questioning brow.

  There’s silence at first, but then Coach Townsend says, “Mr. Alderman is quite settled. He’s older too. I think he could be a calming influence. This may work.”

  Good God, they act like I got caught with my pants down. Okay, sure, my shirt was pulled up. But my jeans were firmly in place, damn it.

  Mr. Bricker, who will obviously be the decision-maker, thinks it over.

  At last, he says, “That may be an agreeable solution. I can draw up the necessary paperwork later today and fax it over to Mr. Alderman’s house. For now, we’ll just secure a verbal agreement. Later today, though, both parties will need to sign and fax the papers back.”

  “Absolutely,” I say.

  “We can do that,” Sebastian adds.

  “Good.” Mr. Bricker nods and then says, “We’ll set the term for three months. We will revisit Mr. Hartwell’s progress when the time is up.”

  Okay, so I’ll be living at Sebastian’s place until December.

  That’s not too bad.

  I can live with that.

  Carefully, I ask, “So we’re good, then? I move into Sebastian’s house, and we reassess in three months?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Bricker confirms.

  “And no life coach?” I double-check.

  “Correct. No life coach.”

  Phew!

  I blow out a breath, murmuring a heartfelt “Thank you.”

  I feel like not only did I just dodge a huge bullet, but living at Sebastian’s may actually turn out to be kind of fun.

  At least, I hope it is.

  After the meeting, Sebastian and I return to the hotel to retrieve my belongings.

  I don’t have a lot to pack up. Most of my stuff is in storage down in Florida, where it will stay until I find a permanent place to live here in Las Vegas.

  Though I guess that won’t be happening for a while.

  Oh, well.

  I have to wait for my house in Florida to sell, anyway. It just went on the market.

  Oh, and that reminds me that I need to send for some things—a few of my favorite hockey sticks, various equipment that I like, and definitely more clothes. I’ll have it all shipped to Sebastian’s.

  After I pack up my shit, I check out, and we leave.

  I hop in my rental car and follow Sebastian to his house.

  Jesus, I hate this stupid small sedan the team selected for me. I can’t wait to have my roomy Range Rover shipped here.

  Yet another thing I need to get on.

  Once we arrive at the house, Sebastian and Bettina give me a tour of the available bedrooms, both on the first and second floors. We then head over to the apartment above the multicar garage.

  Taking note of the all-important separate entrance that Sebastian mentioned on the phone makes my decision easy.

  “I’ll take the apartment, if that’s all right,” I say as the three of us stand in the really fucking nice living room, decorated in the same sleek, modern motif as the main house.

  “It’s yours, man,” Sebastian tells me.

  Bettina smiles and says, “Hey, even though there’s a fully functional kitchen up here, feel free to join us for dinner anytime. We don’t want you to get too lonely over here all by yourself.”

  Chuckling, I reply, “Thanks. And again, I really appreciate everything you two are doing for me.”

  “It’s not a problem, man,” Sebastian says.

  I ask him how much he’d like for me to pay him for rent, but, handing me the key to the apartment, as well as one to the house just in case I need it, he laughs and says, “Are you kidding? Dude, just enjoy the place and play good hockey for the Wolves. You don’t owe me anything other than that.”

  “I will,” I assure him, “on both counts. And thank you again.”

  I really am appreciative. I’m fucking lucky I have a friend on the team, one as awesome as Sebastian. Otherwise, it would’ve been a life coach for me.

  Ugh.

  After Sebastian and Bettina leave, I bring up my belongings from the rental car and get some unpacking done. I like settling in as quickly as possible. That’s why I also make a grocery run to a local supermarket to pick up a bunch of food and essentials.

  But despite being more than prepared to make my own meal, Sebastian and Bettina insist I eat dinner with them.

  After a great meal, I return to the apartment.

  Settling in on the nice black leather sectional sofa in the living room, I turn on the ultra-high-def TV that’s located on the wall above a small electric fireplace.

  It’s a cool setup. There are surround sound speakers and everything.

  Unfortunately, after the events of this crazy day, I’m too tired to get into anything.

  That’s probably for the best, as I have my first practice with the Wolves tomorrow morning. And even though it’s not extremely early, I want to be fresh so I can perform to the best of my abilities.

  I better.

  After the awkward start with the embarrassing selfie, I need to shine like a mofo from this point forward.

  Yeah, no more fuckups, no more mistakes…

  I’m going to be a fucking choir boy.

  Surprise!

  After stopping for my snack, I make good time and arrive at Sebastian’s house a little after ten.

  Although I’m now worried it’s too late to show up unannounced. I mean, crap, creeping along the big semi-circle driveway in my SUV, it’s clear the house is mostly dark.

  “I hope they aren’t sleeping,” I mutter.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have wasted so much time on my way here.

  Oh, well, too late now.

  Sighing, I park next to a large multicar garage. When I glance up at the window in the apartment above, I notice a lamp is on.

  Huh, that’s weird.

  Sebastian told me he never uses that space.

  But who knows?

  Maybe he and Bettina were in there cleaning or something and they left the lamp on.

  Shaking my head, I murmur, “It doesn’t matter.”

  Reaching around to the seat behind me, I grab my overnight bag. I have several additional pieces of luggage in the back, but I’ll worry about bringing all that crap in tomorrow morning, hopefully with Sebastian’s help.

  Securing my bag over my shoulder and snatching up my purse from the seat beside me, I slide out of the SUV.

  It feels good to stretch my legs as I make my way to the front door.