One Pucking Destiny (Crane Hockey #4)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER

TWELVE

ARI

N ostrils flared, I push myself away from the table. Hurrying across the tiled floor of the pavilion, I throw my plate away.

Sebastian is not playing fair, and it pisses me off. It would be so easy to ignore me this week and go on his merry way as if I weren’t here, but I get the impression that is the furthest thing from his mind. He’ll insert himself in every situation, ensuring he’s never far from my mind.

I have never had such a needy one-night stand in all my life. Then again, I’ve never had a “Bash” in all my life. He’s… something entirely different.

Yet nothing has changed, and no amount of under-table hand holding will change that .

“Hey, everything okay?” Logan asks, now standing beside me. “You got up from the table awfully fast.”

“Sean,” I sigh. “Why do they call you Sean if your name is Logan?” The whole thing has bothered me since he told me his name in my mom and Beckett’s kitchen a couple of months ago.

He chuckles. “It’s Beckett’s fault, actually. When I first joined the team, Coach Albright was giving me a tour of the building, and we ran into Beckett. It was last summer when Beckett was going in every day to work with the Doc on his knee injury. Anyway, Coach introduced us, but I think Beckett was only half listening. It might have to do with the fact that he was crazy for your mom and wasn’t thinking straight.” He raises an eyebrow, shooting me a smile. “Anyway, for some reason, he heard the coach introduce me as Sean and not Logan. When I showed up for practice, he introduced me as Sean. I tried to correct him, but the hustle and excitement of the new season overshadowed my voice. By the time I got it across to the guys that my name was not Sean, they were so used to the name they decided it had to stay.”

I shake my head, grinning. “You guys are so weird.”

“That’s not a lie.”

“So then you’re fairly new to the team? Out of college? ”

“No, I actually played for Edmonton for five years, then was traded to the Cranes. You might’ve noticed I’m not on the ice much, but I’ll get there. Just gotta convince Coach I deserve to be there.”

He’s wrong. I didn’t notice. I haven’t watched a game all season. Sports are not my thing. “You’ll get there.” I give him a playful punch to the shoulder.

“Yeah, just gotta wait for Cookie to mess up.”

“What? Why?” I ask, the mention of Bash tuning me into the conversation I was faking my way through just a moment ago.

“I played his position in Edmonton, so it’d be an easy transition to it here. Only Bash rarely messes up. He’s brilliant on the ice. So…”

“What position does he play?”

My question is met with an assessing stare. “Center.”

If Logan hadn’t been aware before, it’s clear to him now that I know nothing about the Cranes besides that my mom is the team doctor. The guy has manners because he doesn’t call me out. “You never know. Anything could happen. A starting position could open up. I mean, someone could get injured or…”

“Whoa.” He holds up his hands, palms out. “I realize you’re not a hockey enthusiast, but try not to jinx us.” He reaches past me and raps his knuckles against the wooden beam holding up the pavilion's roof. “Knock on wood. Quick.”

I do as instructed.

“We don’t voice that kind of stuff out loud,” he continues. “I may not start or be on the ice as much as I’d like, but I’d never want a position if someone had to be injured for me to do so. The most important thing is keeping everyone healthy for the good of the team.”

“Oh right. Okay. That makes sense.”

“Now, if Coach sees me in practice and realizes I skate circles around Cookie and wants me to start in his place, I’d be proud to step up for that reason.”

A forced laugh sounds as Bash joins our conversation. “Please. I think we both know that’s just a little dream that lives in your heart,” he teases. “That won’t be happening, Sean.”

“It could,” I say. “Maybe you’re not as good as you think you are.”

Bash doesn’t miss a beat. He threads his fingers through his floppy blond hair and gives me that smile of his that twists my heart. “I assure you I am. In all things.”

Logan huffs. “In all things? That’s a little cocky, even for you, Cookie.”

Bash flicks his fingers toward Logan. “Do you mind leaving us alone? I need to talk to Ari here. ”

Logan narrows his eyes. “Uh, okay.” He waves. “See ya around, Ari.”

“Bye.” My smile falls as soon as Logan has turned away. “Well, that was just rude. And I thought we were clear about what we discussed upstairs. We’re going to play it cool and act like we haven’t previously met. All that?”

“I am.” His voice raises an octave, feigning innocence.

“You so are not,” I whisper hiss. “Holding my hand under the table with my mom and Beckett sitting right across from us?”

“Look, you said to act like I’ve never met you, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. If a woman such as yourself were to show up here, I would get to know her, ask questions, and flirt—that is what I would do. Now, if this woman was as drop-dead gorgeous and irresistible as you, I’d step up my game, ensuring that she begged me to be inside her—not once but many times over the course of the week.”

I press my lips together to halt the gasp fighting to escape. My head falls back. “Bash, that is completely against our agreement.”

He shakes his head. “As I just said, it’s exactly our agreement.”

“You’re not making this easy.”

“I’m not trying to. ”

“You said you would be on your best behavior.”

“This is my best behavior.”

My blood boils. I literally want to kill this man. Okay, maybe that’s an incorrect use of literally. Because I don’t wish him dead. In fact, as pissed off as I am, the only thought in my head is what it would feel like for him to be inside me. I hate how well he knows me, dropping that little juicy nugget, knowing it would leave me thinking about it.

But no. He doesn’t know me. He thinks my mind will change, and I’m going to want, what? To do it like bunnies with my pregnant mom and her new husband right down the hall? No. A long-distance relationship? No.

Sebastian Calloway is fire in bed, sure. But there’s no future for us in any form. I have the next few years planned out, and they don’t include him. My body may want his. His words may elicit a feral response that’s hard to contain, but contain it, I will. In a battle of wills, I’ll come out victorious.

“This isn’t going to end how you want it to,” I warn him.

His lips pucker, and he tilts his head from side to side. “I think it will.”

“You promised you’d get to know me as a friend.”

“And I am. I desperately want to be friends, Ari. Good friends. Friends with benefits. Really great benefits.”

I sigh. “You’re an asshole.”

He tsks. “That’s no way to treat your new friend. Come on. Let’s go get a beer.”

I follow him to the cooler, and he hands me a cold glass bottle. Tilting the bottle to my lips, I chug.

“That might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says.

I groan. “Sebastian, you have to be careful. Don’t say stupid shit in front of anyone.”

He makes a show of looking around. “I don’t see anyone here. Look, I’m not going to say anything to you in front of the others that I wouldn’t say in front of you had we just met.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel much better.”

“I can make you feel better.” His voice is as smooth as honey.

His comment doesn’t warrant a response. Instead, I toss my empty beer bottle in the recycling bin and grab another. I’m going to need a ton of liquid courage to get through this week without losing it on Bash.

Without another word, I step around him and join the group of guys gathered at the pool.

“Let’s pick teams,” Max says. He turns to me. “You in, Ari?”

“For what? ”

“A game of volleyball,” Eddy answers. He looks younger than the rest of the guys and much scrawnier. In fact, compared to the muscled perfection that surrounds me, there’s definitely a “one of these things is not like the other” vibe going on. Yet even though he doesn’t play on the team, it’s clear he’s a valued member—just one of the guys. And I love that.

“Um. Sure.” My response is hesitant. Once again, I’m not much of a sporty girl, but I won’t announce that to the group. What I lack in athletic experience, I make up with in stubborn pride.

Plus, how hard can smacking around a ball really be?

Bash joins us, and we pick teams.

Cade, Iris, Beckett, and Eddy are on one team. Max, Jaden, Bash, and I are on the other. A group of people, including Logan, Gunner, and my mother, sits in the luxury lounge chairs that circle the pool. While Logan and Gunner chat, drink whiskey, and smoke cigars, my mom sprawls out with a glass of lemonade and a book.

The water in the pool feels heavenly. It’s the perfect temperature.

Bash comes over to my side. “Any questions, Ari? You’ve played before?” The challenge and innuendos from earlier have left his tone. I can tell he’s asking as a friend, no doubt reading my face, which is lined in confusion .

“If I told you that gym was my least favorite class, and I feigned a sprained ankle during our seventh-grade volleyball unit, would you judge me?”

He laughs, and the deep, beautiful sound causes me to smile.

“Not at all,” he says. “So you just watched others play?”

I scoff. “Hardly. I read the Hunger Games trilogy.”

“So you’re a nerd?”

“Absolutely. I’m a big ole nerd. What do you think about me now?”

He absentmindedly chews on his bottom lip, assessing me with a look that heats my skin. “Honestly, I think it makes you even sexier. I love nerds.” He winks. “Hattie and I read those books in seventh grade, too.”

“So you’re smart and sporty. Just one of those guys who are perfect at everything?” I splash some water his way.

He grins, and it’s a devastatingly beautiful event. “Pretty much. Let me give you the quick rundown.” He proceeds to give me the SparkNotes version of the game, highlighting a couple of key rules I need to know. “Put your arms out.” He demonstrates what he means with his arms, and I imitate his form. “Good. Now, place that hand here and wrap your thumb around there.” I work to focus as he manipulates my arms into position. “You want to hit the ball here.” He places his finger on the inside of my wrist and rubs back and forth. “Because it’s flat and smooth.” He drags his finger along my skin, touching my hand. “If the ball hits here or here…” My heart hammers in my chest as he touches parts of my hand. “There’s a better chance of it flying out of bounds. So try to use the inside of your wrists. Okay?”

I nod, swallowing hard.

“Don’t stress. It’s just for fun.” He releases my hand.

As if on cue, Beckett calls out, “What’s the punishment for the losing team?”

“Just for fun?” I roll my eyes at Bash.

He grins. “Okay, so we get a little competitive around here.”

“Dish duty,” Jaden shouts.

Bash looks at his teammate. “We’ve paid for a cleaner to do that.”

“So? Dishes suck. It’s a good punishment.”

Beckett looks around at the players. “Do we have anything else besides a task we’ve hired someone else to do? Anything?”

A few more suggestions are thrown out, but they don’t have much merit, each idea dumber than the last.

“Okay, dish duty it is.” Beckett shrugs. “We’ll flip to see who goes first. Babe,” he shouts across the pull. “Flip a coin!”

“Call it,” my mom says.

“Heads,” Beckett calls.

“Heads it is. Good job, babe.” She blows him a kiss before returning to her book.

“We’re first,” Beckett states.

“What?” Max snaps. “She doesn’t even have a coin!” His arms extend toward my mom.

“She didn’t even flip!” Jaden protests.

“Because she doesn’t have a coin to flip,” Max grumbles.

Beckett shoots us a cocky grin. “A coin flip is fair and square. Stop whining,” he says before pulling his team into a huddle.

“Come on, guys. Let’s get a game plan,” Bash says, motioning for us to join him in the middle for our own huddle.

“Dude. There was no coin.” Jaden’s eyes bulge.

“I know.” Bash chuckles. “Whatever. We’ll still kick their ass.” He gives us a little pep talk that, when summarized, boils down to “don’t lose.”

“Hands in, team winners,” Jaden cheers.

“That’s kind of a lame name. Don’t you think? Winners? It’s very on the nose. I think we can do better,” Max says .

“We don’t have time to debate a name. On three. One, two, three, winners!” Bash cheers.

“Winners?” My lackluster cheer comes out as more of a question.

I eye my mom, reading comfortably in the sunshine, and I’m jealous. Why am I here and not beside her there?

Bash places his hand on the exposed skin of my back. “You’ll do great.”

His touch does all sorts of things to me, but giving me false hope in my athletic ability isn’t one of them.