Taking His Shot Read online

  His smile faded as his gaze searched her own. "I'm better now though."

  "But only recently better. I'd have felt better if you'd given yourself a few more weeks of being injury-free before taking any risks again. Every time you step on that ice, every shift, there's a chance something can happen."

  His focus shifted over her shoulder, out into the bay. "I could get a concussion from being in a car accident too. Or trip over something at home and hit my head, and get a concussion that way too. Remember, that's how Paquette got his concussion last season."

  "I remember. I just want you to be okay. You're so..." she lifted her hand to his cheek once again.

  "What," he rasped as his hands slipped to her hips. "I'm what?"

  "You. You make me laugh and you're a good guy, you're always there for your friends and family. And when you touch me, it's like fireworks are being set off."

  With a groan, he skated his hands up her back once more. "You're all those things too. I especially like that last part. Look, I'm hearing you're concerns. I swear. When I'm on the ice, I'll be as careful as I can be. Plus, I have Leo on my line. The dude takes out anyone who comes near me."

  She couldn't help smiling at the thought of the huge winger. "That's true."

  "So, can we give this a try?" His brows lifted in a hopeful expression that tugged on her heart.

  "We can as long as we're always honest with each other. Lack of honesty was a big reason why my parents split up. So, that means telling me if you're experiencing any symptoms. You've already had two concussions so the threshold is lower."

  He nodded, his expression solemn. "I will always be honest with you."

  Her heartbeat pounded like a drum and the nerves fluttered in her stomach. He was giving her what she needed. "Okay, then."

  "Okay, then," he echoed, and drew her closer. His head tilted and he leaned down, his gaze holding hers captive. Blair slid her fingers into his hair and held on as their lips met. Hotter and harder than the first, it sealed their agreement and promised passion.

  A loud, laughing group of people walked by, shattering the stillness of the moment. Dylan raised his head. "Do you want to keep walking or head back to the hotel?'

  The mention of the hotel brought back the reason they were in Tampa Bay to begin with. "I don't know how people within the team will react about us. It makes me a little nervous."

  "We'll figure out how to let people know. Until then, we'll keep it quiet." He released his hold and stepped back. "If we win the game tomorrow, we'll sweep the series, and that means we'll have extra days off before the next round begins."

  "I wouldn't mind a few extra recovery days for you guys." They needed to conserve as much of their energy as they could for later rounds of play.

  "Me either. So when we get back home, spend the day with me. Just the two of us. Let's go somewhere that has nothing to do with the rink or the practice facility or the team."

  The way he smiled at her and the happiness shining in his eyes, dared her to throw her usual caution aside. Maybe she could do this after all. Maybe everything could be okay. She laced her fingers with his. "It's a date. And for now, I wouldn't mind walking a little more."

  "Good. Because I'm nowhere near ready to say goodnight."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE WASN'T ENOUGH coffee in the world for him to wake up today. Dylan shuffled past Rod at the oven, grateful that his brother was cooking breakfast for them, filled his mug and joined Leo and his dad at the kitchen table. It seemed like only hours ago the Bedlam had won the fourth game against Tampa Bay, getting the sweep and earning the advance to the Conference Finals.

  He glanced at the clock. It had been only hours ago.

  Yet, instead of sleeping in, he'd been woken by the arrival of Leo and Kelsey and his parents. Kelsey and Arielle had appointments for wedding dress fittings, and his mom had gone with them. He wasn't sure why his house had been the meeting place, or why his dad and Leo had come over, but he was too tired to ask questions.

  Dad glanced around the table. "You all look beat."

  Rod yawned and carried plates of bacon and eggs to the table. "The flight was delayed due to bad weather. We didn't get in until two-thirty. Didn't get to sleep until after three."

  "Dylan, you took a pretty hard check last night. Are you feeling okay?"

  He contemplated his half-empty coffee mug, thought about the huge bruise on his ribs from his collision with the goal net, then smiled at his dad. "Never better."

  At least he hadn't hit his head on that one... Blair had still freaked out a little. Her expression when he skated back to the bench had wrecked him. She'd asked him about concussion symptoms on the bench and after the game too. He hated that she was going to worry about him with every hit he took. But if he were completely honest, he worried a little bit too.

  "Leo, how's that cut? It bled a lot. I'm surprised you didn't need stitches."

  Leo angled his face and showed off the four-inch slice across his cheek he'd received from a Tampa Bay defenseman's stick in the middle of the second period. "Just a little scratch. No big deal."

  Dad stirred his coffee and sighed. "I should know better than to ask a hockey player how he's feeling. Regardless of what's wrong, the standard answer is always 'just fine'."

  "Of course. Anything else might get you taken out of a game. No one wants that." Rod retrieved the coffee pot, poured another cup, then topped off everyone else's mugs.

  "I brought the paper over. I've been collecting them for the entire playoff series." Dad held up the sports section from the morning paper. The front page had a photo of the Bedlam players crowded around each other on the ice celebrating last night's win. "Moving on to the Conference Finals is huge. The race to the Cup is down to four teams. How are you feeling about facing Washington next?"

  Dylan set his cup down. The caffeine had finally lifted away enough of the fog. "It's not going to be an easy sweep. We had some tough battles when we faced them this year."

  Leo nudged Dylan's leg with his foot, and he gave a slight tilt of his head in Rod's direction. "Washington's goalie is awesome. One of the best. Did you see the highlights from their game last night? The dude is unreal."

  "Yeah, the last time we played against them, he was practically standing on his head out there." Dylan pressed his lips together and hid his smile behind his coffee cup and waited for his brother's reaction.

  Rod's head whipped up. "Excuse me? Um, I'm sitting right here. He wasn't standing on his head. You hit him in the head with your shot. That was just dumb luck on his part and a bad shot by you."

  "Relax, dude. We're just messing with you." Leo reached over and ruffled Rod's hair. Laughing, Rod ducked away and carried the empty coffee pot to the sink.

  Dylan's phone pinged with a text alert. He looked up. "Where did I leave my..."

  "Here." Rod grabbed it from the counter. His brows rose as he looked at the screen. Then he handed it over with a smile. "Hmmm."

  Blair's name was next to the tiny message icon. Ears growing hot under his brother's stare, Dylan leaned back in his chair and held the phone low.

  Blair: I'm at a doctor's appointment with my dad. The women next to us in the waiting room are gushing about how cute you are. I'm tempted to chime in.

  He grinned and typed his reply.

  Dylan: You're pretty cute too. Everything okay with your dad?

  He was aware of movement and murmurs at the table but didn't look up. Behind his phone, Rod set down the food.

  Blair: It's a regular follow-up with his neurologist. I'm looking forward to our hike tomorrow. I so need it.

  Dylan: I'll make sure you have a good time.

  He set his phone aside. Three sets of eyes were on him. "What?"

  "Nothing." Rod snagged a piece of bacon. "Let's eat."

  Dylan glanced at his phone again. While Blair had to drag herself out of bed on little sleep, and was stuck in a doctor's office with a father who didn't like to admit that he had any health prob
lems, he was very lucky to be sitting in his kitchen sharing breakfast with his very healthy father. The two older men had played hockey at about the same time for about the same number of years, but the outcomes couldn't have been more different. "Dad, how many concussions do you think you had in your career?"

  Frowning at the question, Dad rubbed his hand over his chin. "I'm sure I had a couple. God knows I was in enough fights and slammed enough guys around. But back then, if you were confused or dizzy after a hit everyone would have said you'd gotten your bell rung, and they sent you right back into the game. Like it was nothing. They didn't know what they know today."

  "Do you remember Blair's dad getting a lot of them when he was on the Bedlam with you?"

  "He and I only played together for a few years, but that guy got hit all the time throughout his career. He was a talented shot, so teams always tried to take him out. When you add in that he didn't wear a helmet, well..." Dad raised his brows, shook his head, and sighed, "I'm not surprised that he has all of the problems that he does. But it's still a shame."

  Rod reached for the plate of eggs in the middle of the table. "So, what's the deal with you and Blair?"

  Dylan sputtered his sip of coffee. "What are you talking about?"

  He casually scooped his share onto his plate then passed it to Leo. "A lot of the guys saw you two kissing outside of the hotel the other night."

  Mortification roiled the coffee in his gut. On a groan, Dylan closed his eyes. Entirely his fault for not ensuring they had privacy. When he opened them, Rod was grinning. And realization dawned. "Wait a minute. That was two days ago. You didn't think to text me later that night? Or at any point yesterday? Or during the flight home? Or earlier this morning?"

  His younger brother shrugged. "I wasn't sure it was my business. You're always so private about her. But you were pretty public there, and she's texting you so I thought I'd ask."

  "How many people know?"

  "Celek, Kreider, Vince," Rod ticked the names off on his fingers, "Tanner, Sedlak, Dan, Mintner, Berglund, Laughton, Slater, and me. And Leo."

  So, half the team. His gaze whipped to Leo. "You, too? And none of you mentioned it to me? That's unbelievable. None of you are that good at keeping things quiet."

  Leo passed the eggs to Dylan. "We weren't sure if it was a one-time thing, so no one was going to say anything. And we didn't want to throw off your game performance last night. But does it matter who knows? It's not like the team doesn't allow it. No one in the organization cared when Kelsey and I were dating."

  "Some of the fans cared, Leo," Rod reminded him. "I saw those messages Kelsey received. But once everyone liked you, then it was cool."

  Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. Frustration settled as a knot between his shoulders. "I think Blair is concerned about how it could be perceived because she works directly with the players. Most private trainers have ethical rules that prevent them from becoming involved with a client."

  Dad rose and started a fresh pot of coffee. "She's extremely good at her job, and she's been with the team for a while. She's proved how professional she is. I don't think she should worry. But if anyone has a problem, I'll talk to them. I still work for the team and I may be an older guy, but I can still make heads roll."

  Rod nudged Dylan's arm. "So, are you seeing her again?"

  "We're going hiking tomorrow in Chestnut Ridge Park. Getting away from hockey and everyone." He glared directly at Rod.

  "What? What did I do?" No one did wide-eyed innocence like his brother.

  He shook his head, torn between laughter and frustration. "I'm seriously contemplating getting my own place."

  "Getting your own place?" Rod set his cup down with a thunk. "Why?"

  "I was only half kidding, but seriously, I should do it. I know both of our names are on this house, but I'm happy to give it to you. I'm sure you and Arielle will want more privacy after you guys get married."

  "The wedding isn't until the end of June. You can't change anything at all about our routine while we're still in the playoffs." Rod looked to their dad for affirmation and received a nod. "We still have to drive to practices and games together, like we've been doing all season. And sit next to each other on the plane, like we've been doing. There are still two more rounds to go. If you mess with something and ruin this playoff run, I'll haunt you forever."

  "Superstitious much?" Even as he said it, Dylan stroked his own beard. He still hadn't shaved. As long as they were winning and advancing in the series, he wouldn't.

  "Please." Rod rescued his beloved coffee. "You're the one who has to put on his equipment and skates in the exact same order every single time. Don't talk to me about superstitious."

  "Says the man who needs to tap the goal posts in the same order, direction, and duration at the start of every game."

  "I'm a goalie. We're supposed to be odd. On us, it's endearing."

  "Boys." Laughing, Dad shook his head.

  Dylan let Rod have the last piece of bacon. For as much as he grumbled, he really enjoyed living with Rod and Arielle. Sharing the house with Rod had made sense when they were both single and hadn't needed much space. And having them there had been a huge help during those awful weeks where he hadn't been able to play hockey. They'd kept him from falling too far into depression.

  He thought about Blair. She'd gone above and beyond taking care of him when he'd had the concussions. While he'd received help from countless family and friends, she didn't seem to have a lot of help with her father. Why hadn't he realized before that she needed someone to help take care of her, too?

  He wanted to do it, to be there for her however he could and as much as she would let him. He just wasn't sure how to go about it or how much she would let him in.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SUNLIGHT SPARKLED IN a cloudless sky high above the forest. Blair adjusted her baseball cap and tightened her ponytail and accepted the water bottle Dylan offered. The cold water felt so good, chilling her on its way down. She took another deep swallow then passed it back.

  With his dark beard and muscled physique, Dylan looked every inch the outdoorsmen. If she added a plaid shirt, he'd be an instant lumberjack.

  They'd set off on a trail with thick tree cover and for the past hour had traveled over uneven terrain. Some parts were too narrow to pass through side by side. They took turns being first to climb over large tree stumps or downed limbs or hopping across narrow streams, and Dylan had taken every opportunity to hold her hand or touch her arm.

  The warm temperature and quiet stillness took her mind far away from hockey and schedules and worries. She smiled at him. "It's so peaceful here. I'm really glad we came."

  "Me too. It's like our own private wilderness." Dylan slid his water bottle into the small backpack he'd carried and then laced his fingers with Blair's. "Did you have an okay time with your dad yesterday?"

  "It was a bit of a frustrating day. He doesn't like that he needs to go to doctors. Any doctors. So he'll cancel appointments and then tell me that the doctor's office is the one who canceled. I finally caught on to that little trick a few months ago. He can't drive anymore, so either my uncle or I will take him. Yesterday, he argued with the neurologist about everything. He likes to pretend that he's fine, even when it's clear to us that he's not. I love him, but he's so stubborn." She clamped her mouth closed. This was supposed to be a date, not an venting session. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into all of that. It really is pretty out here, isn't it?"

  "Hey." He cupped her jaw and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "It's okay to talk about your dad. It's not good to keep tension inside. I'm here. I'll listen. I'll help however you'll let me."

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes at his words. She swallowed them back and pulled him into a hug. Strong arms wrapped around her, caging her in his embrace. "Thank you. I can mostly handle it fine, but every once in a while, it's nice to have someone to lean on."

  His hold tightened. "Lean away."

  Laughing, s
he squeezed him even tighter, and stayed like that for a long moment, drawing from his strength. When she had her emotions in check, she kissed his neck and then lowered her arms and stepped back. "I really like it up here. I come here when I get stressed and need to get away."

  He made a show of looking all around them. "I might have to steal your spot. The city's in a frenzy with Cup fever. I love all of the support, but it's nice not to see a hockey stick or be in a rink or talk to a reporter right now."

  "Are you not enjoying it?" She led them up the next incline. Her legs and lungs were getting a workout.

  "I grew up here. Since I was a kid, I've heard so many stories about the Cup-winning team that my Dad was on, and how it mattered to so many people. The players, for sure, but the fans too. They follow all the games and get to know all the players, they're invested in the sport. Ever since I joined the Bedlam, the expectations have been high. People want another Cup. We came so close last year."

  "I know. Last year's loss was brutal."

  "And now that Rod is here too, the expectations are even higher. We have the right pieces, the right guys. Our team is really strong. We have to win the championship. Otherwise, I've let everyone down." The weariness in his expression, like he carried the weight of the city on his back, tugged on her sympathy.

  "It's not all on you, Dylan."

  He shrugged and his lips quirked in a half-smile. "It is when you make a confident guarantee at the start of the season."

  "I guess the press hasn't forgotten about that."