Hard Fall (St. Louis Mavericks 1)

“Guys, no one’s kissing but you two, okay? We’re gonna toast with shots.”

A waitress arrived then with a tray of shots and Wes passed them out. We gathered around our table and watched the large screen at the bar where the Times Square ball drop was being broadcasted. It was a fifteen-minute walk from where we were, but it was freezing and none of us had wanted to spend the evening outside.

“To great friends,” Ben said as people in the bar counted down to the big moment.

“To friends!” Wes echoed, and we all clinked glasses.

Music played and confetti flew as we threw back the shots, my throat burning as the alcohol hit. When I set my glass down, Lauren had her palms on Ben’s cheeks and they were kissing. Wes moved closer to me, his steps uneven and his eyes bloodshot. He was wasted.

“Don’t even think about kissing me,” I cautioned, light-headed from the shot but still very aware of not letting my guard down.

I’d experienced a painful breakup a few weeks ago, and I was feeling vulnerable. I couldn’t let too much alcohol and a broken heart allow me to make an awful decision about Wes.

Wes leaned in and I turned my face away to make sure he couldn’t kiss me.

“Trust me, I’m not thinking about it,” he said in my ear. “I was just gonna say I hope this is your year, Hadley. I hope the massive icicle wedged in your ass gets a chance to defrost this year and maybe you can finally get laid.”

I scoffed, but my pulse pounded anxiously as his words hit home.

“I get laid plenty, thanks,” I said crisply.

“Sure you do. I’m sure there are lots of guys looking for a woman to criticize their every move.” Wes laughed, and I hated him just a little more than before.

Maybe this would be the year he stopped being such a dick. I seriously doubted it, though. Wes Kirby would never change.

Chapter Thirteen

Wes

Losing three out of six games on the road was brutal. I’d tried every trick in the book to motivate and encourage my teammates, but we were in a death spiral of losses and I was frustrated as fuck. We’d dropped to fourth place overall and third in our division, so even though we were still on target for the playoffs, there would be no way to save this season if we didn’t start winning. Ten days felt like ten years and when I walked into the house at ten thirty at night, I was in a piss-poor mood.

Hadley was in the kitchen scrubbing the food processor and ridding it of what appeared to be another baby food disaster, and I wished I had it in me to smile. She wore calf-length yoga pants that fit her ass like a glove, an oversized T-shirt, and sweet baby Jesus, no bra. Her hair was up in a messy half-ponytail thing, with tendrils that had escaped and now framed her face, and she was covered in something purplish-blue.

“Blueberry baby food?” I asked, setting down my bag.

“Yes.” She turned with a smile. “How are you?”

“How do you think? It was the road trip from hell.” I rummaged in the fridge for something to eat but all I saw was string cheese, fruit, and baby food. “Jesus fucking Christ, is there ever anything to eat in this house that isn’t for kids?”

Hadley paused what she was doing and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but only if you ask nicely.”

“Sorry.” It wasn’t her fault we were sucking ass on the ice, but I didn’t have anyone else to take it out on.

“There are cold cuts if you’d like me to make you a sandwich or—”

“Never mind. I’m not hungry.” I slammed the refrigerator door shut and reached for my bag.

“Wes.” She put a gentle hand on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” Her eyes were soft and understanding, as if she actually did understand even though I hadn’t told her anything.

“It’s hard to explain. It’s hockey stuff, and while I appreciate you trying to help, you wouldn’t get how off the dynamic is in the locker room right now. We’re just not gelling the way we used to, the way we should be and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

I grunted. “I can think of at least one thing.”

It wasn’t the way I’d been planning to seduce her if and when the opportunity presented itself, but instead of telling me I was pig, she surprised me by merely cocking her head.

“Would that truly help?”

“How long has it been since you’ve had sex, Hadley?”

She grimaced. “Er, a long time. Almost, um, I guess almost a year.”

Jesus, that was a long time.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’m…well, no, I guess not, but I can take care of my needs myself.” Her cheeks burned pink.