Blocker (Seattle Sharks 5)

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“Once I get it, I’ll finish with her.” He motioned to my car.

I blinked. “It’s that easy?”

“For me.” He smirked.

“Ah, there is that Iron Man cockiness.”

He walked toward his truck, setting the box in the back. “It’s not cocky if it’s true.”

And damn if that wasn’t sexy. A humble, good ole’ farm boy with just the right amount of cocky in him. One who also had a tendency to save me.

Damn him.

No.

Friends.

We could be friends. It would be amazing to have a friend like Eric Gentry.

I’d simply have to keep any sort of benefits buried in an ice-cold cave with his name on it.

Chapter 5

Eric

I pulled into the players’ lot and parked my truck, mentally steeling myself for spending the next couple of hours with Pepper. It’d been a week since I’d nearly fucked everything up, and I’d managed to keep my hands and my mouth to myself, which was becoming more difficult day by day.

I pulled my bag from the cab and headed toward the rink just as Connor pulled in.

“You skipped out on us again last night,” he said as he climbed out of his car.

“Had better things to do,” I answered with a shrug.

“Does that better thing happen to have blonde hair?”

“I’m just watching out for her like her dad asked.” Even I could hear the excuse my voice like I needed an explanation for watching my fourth Marvel movie since meeting Pepper.

“Uh huh,” he gave me the fake thumbs-up sign, letting me know what he thought my bullshit excuse. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Leave it alone,” I warned him. “I’m not doing anything I wasn’t explicitly asked to do.”

“Change of subject. Halloween party costumes?”

“Are you kidding me?” I wasn’t twelve anymore.

“Dude. We have to go. It’s for charity.”

“Fine. You pick. Nothing lame. Pregnant nuns are not an option.”

“Excellent.”

We quieted as we approached the door, which was bordered by a line of fans behind a steel barrier. As we got closer they all held out pucks sticks pictures—anything they wanted signed. As usual, I couldn’t let myself walk by a kid and not take a second to sign whatever he had. Conner joined in, and we made our way down the small gathering.

“What’s your name?” I asked a small brown-haired boy.

“Colin,” he replied. “You’re Eric Gentry.” He had that tone of awe in his voice that small boys always reserved for their heroes. It never ceased to amaze me that I become someone kids looked up to.

“I sure am,” I said as I took the puck and silver Sharpie he’d brought with him, quickly scrolling my name and number across the black surface. “You play?”

“Goalie.” The kid nodded slowly, his eyes wide.

I smiled, nodding as I handed the puck back to him. “Best position there is.” I ruffled the kid’s hair and moved on to the next one, and then the next, and the next until I’d signed everything every child brought.

“Gentry,” a voice called out of the crowd. “Any chance the rumors are true about the Sharks getting a trade this year?”

Fucking paparazzi.

“Not the place, gentlemen,” I said over the top of the kids and their waiting parents.

“Is that a yes?” Another one called out.

I ignored him, waved goodbye to the kids and headed toward the doors, where a security guard kept the entrance clear of non-Sharks.

“Can you comment on the nepotistic hiring of Pepper Harris?” A woman asked.

I stopped in my tracks.

“Shit,” Conner sighed.

“I’m sorry?” I asked the woman who’d spoken up. Nepotistic? Sure her dad was the coach, but she was a fucking MIT graduate and more than qualified as an analyst.

“Pepper Harris. She’s the coach’s daughter?” A corner of her mouth tilted in a smirk. She knew she’d hit a nerve.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and glanced back to see Connor shake his head.

He was right. I couldn’t snap on a paparazzi. I’d never done so, and starting now wasn’t an option.

“I guess I’ll just ask her,” she said as Pepper came our way, focused completely on her iPad.

More than a few cameras popped out at her.

“Pepper! What do you say about allegations that your father didn’t use fair hiring practices when it came to you?” One asked.

“Pepper! Are you and Mason Hall getting back together now that you’re on the same coast?”

“You were spotted leaving the rink with Mason a few days ago, care to comment on the state of your relationship?”

Questions fired at her fast, and the paps were so aggressive that parents pulled their kids out of the way.

Pepper’s eyes shot up, wide in surprise as she took in the scene, clutching her iPad to her chest.

I moved quickly, putting myself between her and the paparazzi, and pulling her under my arm.

“Come on,” I said gently, walking her past the melee.

We made it through the door to the rink, and the guard shut it behind the three of us.

“Damn,” Conner muttered. “Vultures.”

“The team is doing well this year,” Pepper said. “It’s only going to get worse.” She looked up at me and smiled. It was soft, personal, and hit me in the gut like a wrecking ball. “Thank you. I’d almost forgotten how horrid they can be. I’m usually better than that, but they caught me off-guard, I guess. They left me alone while I was in college.”

“Don’t worry about it.” My voice sounded gruff even to myself.

We stood there, locked onto each other as electricity snapped between us, tethered us together. Fuck, I wanted her. Not just in the watch-Marvel-movies-with-me way. No, I wanted her under me, curves in my hands, gasps in my ear, taste in my mouth.

Connor cleared his throat.

Shit.

My arm was still around her shoulder. I let it fall away and stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. Damn, I’d been around her for a minute or two and was right back to the edge of my control.

Her cheeks tinged pink and she glanced from Connor back to me. “Right. Well, I have the stats from Saturday’s game if you want to go over them after practice today?”

In her office. Alone. While she smelled like fucking strawberries and cream. Not a good idea.

“Sure. I’ll bring Ryan with me. I’m sure he’ll want the numbers, too.” Throwing my goalie coach into the mix would definitely keep my dick in check.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Great idea. See you then!” She flashed a smile and ran off, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Damn, her ass was made to be grabbed by both hands and—

“Damn, dude,” Conner chastised.

“What?” I pried my eyes from Pepper’s retreating figure.

“What? Seriously? You pretty much eye-fucked each other. In the rink. Where anyone could see. Are you trying to get fired?”

“Nothing’s going on,” I argued, readjusting my bag on my shoulder and heading toward the locker room.

“Look, it’s none of my business. But whatever is going on? You’d better keep it quiet. I mean dead quiet.”

“Well, since nothing is going on, that should be easy,” I said over my shoulder as I walked into the locker room.

“Yeah, okay,” he said sarcastically but dropped the subject.

I wasn’t going to cross the line with Pepper, and when it came to a Shark keeping his mouth shut, I wasn’t the one to be worried about.

Crosby was.

“I’m Maverick,” I said as we walked into Club Thirty-Five on Halloween. The Sharks had rented the nightclub for the evening, and fan tickets had gone for over $500 a pop.

Of course, we weren’t exactly in disguise with the costumes Connor had picked.

“Fuck you, I’m Maverick,” Connor answered, tugging on his aviator glasses.

“If anything, you’re Goose.”

“Are you serious? Look at our hair.” He pointed to his dark brown shag of a hair-do.

“Point is? I save your ass time and again. I’m Maverick.” We passed the bar, which was packed to the brim with people ordering drinks.