Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

  Adrian

  An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

  Sosie Frost

  ADRIAN

  An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance

  Copyright © 2021 by Sosie Frost

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover Design: Pink Ink Designs

  Created with Vellum

  ADRIAN - Summary

  “I want to have a baby…and I’d like you to be the daddy.”

  As the captain of a professional hockey team, I’ve heard every pick-up line imaginable—but I never expected to be propositioned by my sweet, virginal best friend.

  Clover’s a beautiful, pint-sized serving of mischief, but she’s far too innocent to spend a night with a man as rough me. She doesn’t know what she’s asking…or what happens to curious girls who tangle themselves in my sheets.

  She calls it purely platonic procreation.

  I call it a mistake.

  Unfortunately, Clover’s picked the worst time to sneak into my bed. Between my recovery from a near career-ending injury and my responsibilities as captain, I can’t be distracted by my best friend surrendering herself to my most forbidden fantasy.

  Because when one night becomes two, and two becomes three…

  Is it worth risking our friendship…even if this could become so much more?

  Contents

  1. Adrian

  2. Clover

  3. Adrian

  4. Clover

  5. Adrian

  6. Clover

  7. Adrian

  8. Clover

  9. Adrian

  10. Clover

  11. Adrian

  12. Clover

  13. Adrian

  14. Clover

  15. Adrian

  16. Clover

  17. Adrian

  18. Clover

  19. Adrian

  20. Clover

  21. Adrian

  22. Clover

  23. Adrian

  24. Clover

  Epilogue

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  Follow Me!

  1

  Adrian

  Clover Crosby was the sort of flight attendant who could make buckling a seat belt kinky.

  She was a wink served with a bag of pretzels, wielded a smile that could combat jet lag, and had a laugh as warm as the coffee she said never to trust on a flight.

  But after hauling my dead-ass tired body onto the redeye flight from San Francisco to Ironfield, I’d risk a water-born illness for a little caffeine.

  Or a stiff drink.

  Because Clover wanted something from me. And she wanted it bad enough that she’d used her dirtiest trick—a lovely spicy-sweet smirk that blended secrets, sensuality, and innocence. Even the twitch of her lips could confuse a man. Never knew if I was the butt of her joke or if I’d taken Cupid’s arrow straight through the heart.

  But my best friend’s smile did mean one thing.

  Trouble.

  Yet somehow, she always trapped me in the middle of her craziest schemes. If I got lucky, this flight would turn out better than our trip of a lifetime to Belize…one of the few vacations in which I was arrested by customs’ agents. Apparently, I had looked like a man who’d smuggle exotic animals out of the rainforest via his pants. Fortunately, the only wild beast I’d tucked away in my Dockers was my own anaconda. Unfortunately, a good portion of my signing bonus that year had landed in the pockets of the commanding officer to facilitate my release.

  But that’s just part of the adventure, Clover had said. Who wants to do all the regular touristy things…?

  Certainly not Clover. Chaos rode shotgun on her trips around the world. She was five feet and a buck fifteen of wanderlust and mayhem. If she wasn’t racing to Germany to fulfill a craving for a Bavarian pretzel, she was camped out on my couch following a four-day, fifteen flight shift.

  Usually, all she needed was my arm around her, a bowl of salt-only popcorn for the movie, and someone to remind her of the correct time-zone. On the rare occasion, I had to use my seat as a floatation device.

  This was one of those times.

  So, when she slid into the first-class seat next to me, smiling her ball-busting, boy-are-you-going-to-regret-this grin, I braced myself for a crash landing.

  “I have a proposition for you,” Clover said.

  Her voice was a soothing whisper, a soft twinkle just loud enough to be heard over the drone of the plane’s engines without disturbing her passengers. Too bad the other twenty people aboard were already asleep. I could’ve used the witnesses.

  We had First Class to ourselves, and it was a hell of a lot better than the previous flights I’d taken for the chance to see Clover. Standby was a bitch, but it was the best way to catch a flight when our schedules happened to cross.

  “I’m still reeling from your last proposition.” I tapped my armrest. “You know…when you suggested that I buy a ticket I didn’t need, for a flight I didn’t want, so I’d travel to a place where I should’ve been yesterday, just so we could meet up while you worked.”

  The woman spared me no pity, but she did ease my frustrations with a polite kiss to my cheek. Hers were lips destined to blow a man’s mind…and his more demanding parts. But that was a forbidden fantasy. I grunted and rubbed away the red lipstick.

  “Getting you on the plane wasn’t my proposition,” Clover said.

  “You’re right. It was an order.”

  Her eyes were the color of Earl Grey Tea—the fruity, bergamot concoction that punched me in the face every morning. After my injury, she had insisted that I drink a mug to help start my day. Said it was good for me. And so, I’d crawl out of bed, groggily stagger to the kitchen, and brew an aggravatingly feminine breakfast, just for her.

  And damn it, if she wasn’t always right.

  “I must be a glutton for punishment…” I said.

  “Mostly self-inflicted.”

  “If I said I was immune to your charms, would you believe me?”

  “Nope.” Clover kicked off her heels and gave her stocking’ed toes a satisfying stretch. Never thought I’d be a guy who liked panty-hose, but I’d never seen a pair of legs that looked so good concealed behind the nearly transparent tights. Perfect dancer’s legs that looked good in heels and would look even better wrapped around a man’s waist. “I’d just try harder.”

  “Then I better take one for the team. The men of this world aren’t strong enough to resist the Clover Crosby experience.”

  “That’s why I like you, Adrian. You’re willing to tough me out.”

  “Helps that I play hockey,” I said. “Getting roughed up every game is good practice for when you trap me on an airplane with a proposition.”

  A proposition w
hich filled her eyes with a radiant, bubbly excitement. Hadn’t seen anyone so amped since last season’s championship game.

  Of course, it was the other team who’d won, and I’d been forced to watch a heartbreaking loss in Game Seven from injured reserve.

  But Clover hadn’t let me mope—or drown my sorrows with single-barrel bourbon. She’d arrived at my apartment the day after the championship, threw open the curtains in my bedroom, and accidentally spilled hot coffee on my chest.

  Wasn’t pretty, but it got my ass moving just in time for the call from the newly created Ironfield Forge expansion team. And the rest was history…

  Or potentially the worst decision of my career.

  Clover smoothed the non-existent wrinkles from her navy-blue skirt. Somehow, the woman was always prim, proper, and bewilderingly perfect, even when sitting sideways in the seat and using my knees for her leg rest.

  Despite the five-hour flight, the gold wings pinned to her buttoned-up blazer never even tilted. Must’ve been some sort of magic. Made a guy feel guilty for his mile-high thoughts about her hazelnut skin and hair that spilled like ink over her delicate shoulders.

  Clover stared at me with big, I-promise-this-won’t-hurt-much eyes.

  “What if I told you my proposition comes with perks?” she asked.

  “Half a can of Ginger Ale and a packet of pretzels?” I wasn’t impressed. “These are mostly crumbs and salt, you know.”

  She snuck another packet from her pocket and stuffed it in my hands.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” she said.

  “My prayers are answered.”

  “There’s more where that came from.”

  The few crumbled pretzels couldn’t do much to sate a professional hockey player’s appetite. Hell, I was still starving from the in-flight dinner. Clover had mercifully eaten my weird-ass feta and watermelon salad appetizer, leaving me with a mystery fish as my protein—a fish that should’ve been chased, captured, cleaned, and filleted by Captain Ahab himself to justify the cost of the ticket.

  Maybe I was old-fashioned, but after a hard day on the ice, I preferred to consume my weight in chicken breast. Simple. Easy. And I could eat it on the ground.

  “Anyone ever tell you this service might not be worth the money?” I frowned as Clover stole the first pretzel out of my bag.

  “Am I not worth cashing in a couple hundred frequent flyer miles?”

  “Tell me again which ticket would’ve let me sleep through the night?”

  Clover teased me with a poke to my ribs—exactly the sore spot which had plagued me since workouts. The damned woman was part shark—she could sniff out an injury from across the blueline.

  Which was why she’d also snuck me an icepack with the snacks.

  “You can sleep in Ironfield,” she said. “In that brand new house you bought with that fancy-pants contract with the Forge.”

  “Still gotta close on the house tomorrow,” I said. “Though I might reconsider…not sure what I was thinking when I decided to move closer to you.”

  “You were thinking it’d be wonderful to live within throwing distance of your best friend.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, but I’m still deciding what to throw.”

  Clover poked at me again, though I had room in First Class to dodge. Not like the last few flights when she’d crammed me into the jump seat in the galley. Sure, Clover was petite enough to stash in the overhead compartment and get lost, but I was a big guy with hockey-primed glutes. My ass didn’t fit in a jump seat, and I’d had enough damage done to the more unmentionable parts of me that the boys deserved the chance to spread out and enjoy the flight.

  “I had hoped that moving to Ironfield would put an end to these midnight liaisons on transcontinental flights,” I said.

  Clover had teddy-bear, melt-your-heart-eyes that grabbed hold of a man’s balls and refused to let go. And—for a guy in my position—that was as dangerous as taking another puck between the legs.

  “Maybe it’s too good to be true,” she said.

  “What is?”

  “That we don’t have to meet up like this anymore.” She gestured over the plane and her uniform.

  I thought she had more faith in me than that.

  “I told you long ago, back when I first signed with the Marauders, that I’d find a way to move closer to you.”

  “Just needed to wait eight years for an expansion team to set up in Ironfield.” She mocked a prayer to the Heavens. “Dreams do come true.”

  “You missed me?”

  “I did.”

  That’s what I liked best about Clover—she was the only woman who made honesty feel like a gift. Like her true feelings were a special secret reserved just for me.

  I might’ve been the only person she ever let get that close, but I couldn’t figure out why she’d chosen me.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about things lately…” Clover picked at the fraying corner of a magazine tucked in the pouch ahead of me.

  “Is this your proposition?”

  She hesitated just long enough to deny me an answer so she could ask her own question. “How did you know it was time to leave the Marauders?”

  “Well, getting drafted by the Forge didn’t give me much choice,” I said.

  She didn’t smile. The magazine page ripped under her delicate fingertips.

  “But how did you know that it was the right decision? What made you ask the team management to leave you unprotected for the draft?”

  I wasn’t expecting this conversation. Also didn’t know what to say. I had an injury shadowing my every move and no championship rings to show for my sacrifice. It was enough to make any team nervous.

  “It was best decision for my career,” I said. Wasn’t a good optimist, but at least I could be honest.

  “And you knew…deep down…it’s what you wanted most?”

  Not at all.

  I wasn’t a risk taker like Clover. My life was strict, disciplined, and focused solely on the game. I spent my mornings doing drills on the ice, my afternoons in team meetings watching endless films, and spent my nights bleeding for the game with every shot I took on goal. I’d collapse into bed sore and exhausted and desperate for the chance to do it all again.

  I lived, breathed, and trained only for hockey.

  And I didn’t see a reason to think of anything else.

  “Not sure anyone ever knows what they truly want,” I said. “They’re just looking for that break in the defense for a chance to score.”

  “See, I don’t believe that.” Clover swept imaginary pretzel crumbs from her skirt. “I think, at some level, people know what’s best for them. They might fight it or deny it, but deep down, our darkest desire isn’t a big surprise.” She hesitated. “So…why did you leave Atwood for Ironfield?”

  Because I didn’t have a choice.

  The Marauders had been one goal away from a championship win last year, and I’d watched the crushing defeat from the team’s private box.

  Wasn’t sure what hurt more—the loss or the injury that had prevented me from leading the team to what should’ve been our victory.

  And after the loss—with the whispers in the locker room, the backhanded questions about my health from the coaches, and the constant media speculation about my ability to return to the ice—I learned that seven years of loyalty to one team meant nothing when the future of the franchise was on the line.

  Fortunately, the announcement of the Forge gave me the opportunity I needed. Expansion teams were permitted unique privileges. They drafted one player from each team to jumpstart their lineups. Each franchise was permitted to protect certain players from the draft. Seven forwards. Three defensemen. One goalie. But, with twenty-three men on the roster, that meant twelve players existed in a state of limbo—unsure if it’d be them who had to leave everything behind and start something new.

  My former teammates all but begged to stay with the Marauders.

  Me?

  I had the stig
ma of an injury. And the Marauders didn’t trust me as foolishly as I’d trusted them. No sense living under constant scrutiny and doubts. If I was to be a part of a team, I demanded their faith in me. With that shattered, I had nothing left in Atwood.

  And so, I’d petitioned to be drafted. And I welcomed the new opportunities—not just on the ice but growing a brand-new team in a brand-new city with brand-new players.

  “I saw a chance to do something great and went for it.” I batted her away from my drink, and then handed her the cup when she pouted. “Why?”

  She sipped my Ginger Ale with a quiet sort of indecision. “It’s a big change in your life.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And it comes with a lot of new responsibilities and challenges.”

  That was part of the fun. “Never bothered me before.”

  “But the potential is there for something wonderful, don’t you think?”

  What the hell was she getting at?

  “It wasn’t an easy decision, but it had some perks,” I said. “Like getting to move closer to you—especially since you refuse to use FaceTime.”

  She wasn’t convinced. “My nose looks weird over FaceTime.”

  “Your nose is perfectly adorable, like the rest of you.” I gave her the compliment—she ignored it. “Besides, you’re lucky. You nose could be broken. Or you could be missing teeth.”

  Clover’s perfectly adorable nose crinkled with disgust. “Hockey is such a lovely sport.”