Adrian: An Ironfield Forge Hockey Romance Read online

  “It makes men tough.”

  “Sure…if you like your guys black and blue.”

  “How about…rugged and strong?” I asked.

  “More like…obsessively single-minded and meat-headed.”

  I flexed my biceps. I’d bulked up in the off-season. Bigger than I was before the injury and a hell of a lot stronger. For eight years, I’d been known for my speed and cunning. This year, the defensemen would think twice before checking me.

  “I’ve never had any complaints,” I said. “If I tell a beautiful woman I play professional hockey, she usually follows me home to count my scars.”

  “Oh yeah?” Clover playfully interrogated me, flipping on the overhead light to shine it in my eyes. “Is that what you’ve been doing in Atwood without me? Are you…dating someone? And didn’t tell me?”

  Was it me, or did she seem too curious? I turned the light off before she woke the rest of the plane.

  “Do you think I was in any condition to perform?” I shifted in my seat.

  Clover’s giggle was the midnight cup of coffee that’d keep me up through dawn. “You’re full of surprises, Adrian. And if I hadn’t taken the time off to help you recover, I’m sure dozens of pretty puck bunnies would’ve lined up to give you a sponge bath.”

  Probably. But it wasn’t my style. I was usually too focused on the next workout, next game, next win to let myself get distracted by a quick fling with a quicker woman.

  But this wasn’t a discussion I’d ever had with Clover. We kept one sacred rule: keep it superficial. Our friendship was strictly platonic, enforced with soft chides and the occasional fingers plugged in our ears. Last thing I needed was a seedy locker-room story or a jaded ex-girlfriend revealing my preferences to Clover.

  Or imagining her in their place…head down, ass up, begging for everything I could give but harder, fiercer, messier.

  Exactly the wrong fantasies to have of my innocent best friend.

  So, I hid the truth from her. I wasn’t about to let anything ruin her opinion of me—especially the truth about my sexual appetite. After all, she’d followed me around for the last twenty-some years—ever since kindergarten when we’d both discovered that we hated cheese on our pizzas. Would’ve been a shame to scare her off now.

  The plane whined a constant hum—loud, but not nearly loud enough to drown out the clicking of Clover’s nails, drumming against the arm rest. I took her hand. To my surprise, she curled her fingers into mine and squeezed.

  “So…I’d like you to keep an open mind,” she said.

  That didn’t bode well. “Should I grab the blindfold or the earplugs?”

  “Neither…but I can get you some alcohol if it makes it easier.”

  “You’ve picked the strangest time for a heart-to-heart chat…unless you’re worried I might try to escape?”

  “I showed you where the emergency exits are.”

  “Thinkin’ I might jump?”

  “Think I wouldn’t jump after you?”

  I planned on it. “You’ve always been my parachute.”

  “Yes.” Clover tickled her fingers over mine. “Remember that. Also remember that I hooked you up and seated you in First Class. Your comfort is my utmost priority.”

  Didn’t like the way that sounded. “Comfortable would’ve been you frisking me instead of the gargoyle with the metal detector.”

  “Never know…” She giggled. “You might get your wish.”

  “My wish is to get some sleep and talk about important things on the ground.”

  “When have you ever known me to wait for anything?”

  This was true. One of her many quirks I had to convince myself was still fun and cute after midnight.

  But something was bothering her. Normally, she’d never risk damaging her perfect manicure with a nibble of her pinky nail.

  “Look,” I said. “You didn’t need to stuff me onto a plane. If something’s wrong, just tell me. I would’ve dropped everything to help.”

  She softly sighed. “This isn’t a problem, per se. More a solution. Something you could do for me…but it is an unusual request.”

  Unusual for her? Christ, I was in trouble.

  “Okay…” Her composure broke for only a moment as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt, teasing me with a brief glimpse of her toned thigh. “Here goes. Now that you’re living in Ironfield, I’d like to see you more.”

  Well, hell. That was one of the perks of signing with the team based out of her airline’s hub.

  “Done,” I said. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Besides, it’ll be good to have you close by. I’ll need help peeling myself off the ice. Gotta lot of work to do this offseason.”

  Clover frowned. “You promised me you’d take it easy. That injury—”

  “—It’s fine. I’m completely healed, and I’m focusing on the game. Signing with the Forge was a blessing in disguise. Now everyone can forget what happened last season. Far too many people got involved with what happening in my pants.”

  “True. It’s best if that information stays between you, your doctor, and me.”

  “You?”

  Clover snuck a peek at my lap, as if she could assess the damage herself. “It was a bad hit, taking the puck…there.”

  The hit wasn’t nearly as bad as the embarrassment of having to discuss the injury with every doctor, trainer, coach, and media representative.

  And Clover.

  Though she was the one who had stayed by my side during the recovery, fetching ice packs, pain meds, and keeping me fed. She’d helped me hobble to the bathroom, fluffed my pillows at night, and never once complained about taking care of me. But I hadn’t asked her for the help. It was like she simply materialized in my home, bearing macaroni and cheese and promising to sleep on a cot beside my bed in case I needed anything during the nights.

  I owed her big.

  And the repayment was about to come due.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said.

  “I’m worried about parts of you.”

  This ended the conversation. “What’s your proposition?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  “Just ask me.”

  “Answer my question first.”

  Christ.

  “The chairman and the board are fine.” Wasn’t sure how many times I had to share that agenda with her. Hopefully one day she’d believe me. “I can skate. I can play. I can take a hit.”

  “What else can you do?”

  I laughed. “You want a demonstration?”

  Her eyebrow arched. “I might.”

  First class offered a lot of amenities, but I doubted that was one of the perks.

  “Don’t tempt me.” I shifted in my seat as the conversation roused the star of the show. Not the conversation I thought we’d be having. “I’ve been looking for a test run.”

  “Have you…tried it with anyone lately?”

  Dangerous conversation. “Does a urologist count?”

  “Depends. How much is he charging you?”

  Figured it’d be my first born, but who the hell knew if that was possible anymore. “Insurance paid the fees, but no one covered my dignity.”

  She batted my shoulder. “It was a fluke accident. And it all worked out. You’ve got a new team. Bigger contract. Best friend at your beck and call.”

  “Always admired your optimism.”

  “You’re gonna do great here. Ironfield has the arena, the uniforms, the team. But you know what it really needs?”

  “A fan base?”

  She flinched. At least I wasn’t the only one concerned about creating a hockey team in a town that bled football.

  “They need a captain,” she said. “Someone who can take responsibility. Show the men what needs to be done because he isn’t afraid of a challenge. That man is you.”

  Sometimes, the woman was too lovely for her own good.

  “You can just ask for a favor, Clover.”

  “I’m getting there.” She locke
d eyes with me. “Look, you’re a great man, Adrian. Perfect to lead a new team. Perfect for a friend. Perfect…to start a family.”

  She had no idea how hard the Ironfield Forge’s transition was going to be.

  “Family?” I snorted. “It’ll be a long time before this team is a family.”

  “No…that’s not what I meant—”

  “We’ve gotta train together first. Practice. Get to know each other. It can take a whole season for a line to coordinate enough to read each other’s minds. Family is a long way off.”

  She exhaled with a grunt. “Let me try again. Forget the team. I’m talking about you. How you’re the sort of man who puts everyone’s needs above his own. You take care of those around you. Do you know how rare that is?”

  “I can also knock a defenseman into the boards without giving him a concussion.”

  “You’re a man of many talents.” Her patience waned. “Also a man who stays level-headed when presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “What the hell do you want from me, Clover?”

  The woman crossed and uncrossed her legs, slipping them from my lap so she could tug her shoes back on. A delay.

  Why was she so damned apprehensive?

  Her fingers pecked at the navy-blue silk tied around her neck. “I really hate this scarf.”

  Not sure if that declaration was supposed to mean something profound when stated at thirty-five thousand feet, but I nodded anyway.

  “Okay.”

  “Every day I put it on, and it just gets tighter and tighter, until, suddenly, I can’t breathe. I could be in the middle of a drink service or we could be landing. Doesn’t matter. I panic. And even if I take it off, the scarf is always there. Reminding me that as soon as it goes back on, I’ll feel choked and suffocated and…stuck all over again.”

  Well, now she had my attention.

  I leaned forward. “Is it asthma?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s not asthma, Adrian. Listen to me. I don’t want to live a life wearing a scarf that’s squeezing all the happiness out of me.”

  “…Can’t you talk to the airline about the uniform?”

  “No.” She groaned. “It’s more than that. I’ve been thinking about this job. And it’s not exactly what I thought it would be.”

  “Probably because you’re slacking off, sitting in First Class with me.” I grinned.

  “Forget it.”

  I grabbed her hand as she abandoned the conversation and rolled into the aisle. “I’m listening. Keep going.”

  She plunked back into the seat, her hands balling in her lap. “Nothing about my life is what I expected it to be. I wanted to see the world, but now it’s like…every time I take off across the country, all I think about is how much I’m leaving behind.”

  That was a new, confusing sentiment coming from her.

  “You spend more time traveling than at home,” I said. “The only thing you leave behind are hotel soaps and Starbucks cups.”

  “And you.”

  I smirked. “Good thing I’m moving closer.”

  “And you have no idea what it means to me. Especially since…” Her words quieted. “Have you ever wanted something more from life? A future? A reason for being? Do you know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely.” I nodded. “I’ve got the team.”

  She shook her head. “Not quite. I mean, something better than the game. Something that’s missing.”

  “Oh. A championship?”

  “More than that.”

  “…Two championships?”

  “For Pete’s sake,” she said. “Okay, when you were in the hospital, after the surgery…what were you feeling? What did you want more than anything then?”

  “Relief from the pain.” I shuddered. “That was a bad night.”

  “I’m talking spiritually, emotionally.”

  “All I wanted was morphine.”

  “What about having someone at your side? So you wouldn’t be alone?”

  I grinned. “Why? I had you. The doctors had to kick you out of the room before you decided you’d operate on my teammates yourself.”

  Clover quieted as the plane shimmied with the slightest rumble of turbulence. “You’re impossible.”

  “I’m serious. You were the first one at the hospital after the injury, the first one with me when I woke up after surgery, and the first one to crack a joke when I was still writhing in pain. Would’ve been even worse without you there.”

  “So…you trust me?”

  “Against my better judgment.”

  “How much?”

  “Depends on what you want.”

  Her brow furrowed, just a tiny crease of worry. “Well, I’ve been thinking about us lately. About all we’ve gone through. And about what we could go through together. Understand?”

  Not a bit. “Maybe?”

  “There’s something I haven’t done yet. Something a little crazy. Something that requires you and me and…well…”

  “What?”

  “It would require a deposit of sorts…from you.”

  Oh. So that’s what this was all about?

  I sighed. “Clover, if you need money, just ask.”

  “What? No!”

  “I’ll help you out. Maybe buy you a better fitting scarf.”

  “Adrian, just stop,” she said. “Listen to me. For a long time, I thought I only ever needed myself. But, after your injury, I started thinking…”

  “You’re…thinking about my balls?”

  She shushed me, glancing over her shoulder to ensure I hadn’t woken any of the sleeping passengers. “Yes. I started thinking about your…pucks.”

  “My pucks.”

  “And I was thinking about my…” She pointed to her navel. “Net. And how I’ve been defending that net for so long that I’ve never considered what might happen if I let a puck through.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve never been eager to score. I just never found the right…hockey player.”

  And I thought she secretly hated hockey. It was too late to be this damned confused.

  “Are you…talking about playing the game?” I asked. “You don’t know how to skate.”

  “Well, I’ve never tried to skate,” she said. “I never wanted to get on the ice and face-off against that sort of excitement. I played my defense a little too well. And, had I realized what was important, I might’ve let someone…high-stick me a little. Get me into the penalty box.”

  “Are…are we talking power play now?”

  Her expression twisted with confusion and embarrassment. “Oh, my God. Adrian, I’m asking you for a favor, and you’re going to think I’m crazy. But I’ve wasted so much time on myself and my career that I’ve completely neglected what was most important.”

  “Which is?”

  “Family.”

  Made sense. She never did make time for the holidays, especially since that was peak traveling season and she could pick up overtime. It’d been a while since either of us spent Thanksgiving or Christmas with our families. The game and her work always came first.

  It’s why we got along—we easily forgave our absences.

  “So…what do you want from me?” I asked.

  Clover didn’t hesitate. Her smile was bright enough to light the plane.

  “I want a baby.”

  My stomach crashed to my balls.

  And I didn’t trust the twitch of interest hardening my cock.

  “I want to have a baby.” She held my hand close to her chest. “And, Adrian…I want you to be the daddy.”

  2

  Clover

  An oxygen mask tumbled out of the compartment above Adrian.

  “Huh.” I reached over him, shoving the yellow mask back into its hold. “That’s never happened before.”

  Adrian didn’t laugh.

  Didn’t speak.

  Didn’t even move.

  I debated leaving the m
ask down in case he stopped breathing too.

  Whoops. I’d broken the starting center and team captain for the Ironfield Forge, and that was a one hundred-million-dollar mistake.

  He’d probably need a minute.

  It was a pretty big ask. But it was out there now—for better or for worse. Couldn’t take it back, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to regret it.

  I’d made my decision. I only hoped he’d understand.

  Adrian’s widened eyes were dark, the color of a 3AM espresso after a grueling two-day stint across the country. The shock chased away the little worry crinkles which had recently appeared over his brow.

  For a moment, he looked like the carefree Adrian before the gruesome injury. Not that the lines had marred him. Just the opposite. It’d turned him older, wiser, and somehow…sexier?

  Then again, the man could take a puck, stick, or fist to the face and come out the other end with a grin that’d melt the damned ice under his skates.

  His nose was crooked, his left front tooth not his own, and his jaw as sharp as a stick blade. A neatly trimmed beard framed his square chin, and his thick eyebrows softened eyes as dark as flint and as intense as the fires they sparked.

  Surprise was a good look for him. His lips parted as if to swear, though only a confused croak rolled from his throat.

  What was I thinking, giving him pretzels?

  This was definitely a cookie conversation.

  I rubbed his massive shoulder. The t-shirt stretched taut over the bulk of his muscles. The man had all the money in the world now, but he still couldn’t find clothes that fit a hockey player’s body. While most athletes struggled with snug shirts and tight collars, Adrian had a monstrous form that bulked in all the right spots.

  I’d learned early in life that hockey required some serious glutes. It was a good thing I’d managed to squeeze Adrian into First Class. The man was practically all legs and ass.

  What was the saying? The bigger they were, the harder they took the prospect of impregnation?

  This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

  “I’ll give you some time to consider my proposition,” I said. Adrian nodded, though I feared his head would loll off his shoulders. “I’m going to check on the other passengers and find you something to drink. How about Ginger Ale?”