The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance (13 page)

“It’s only nine o’clock,” Cole said, slipping his knapsack off his shoulder and onto the couch in the living room. “Feel like a brew?”

“You mean beer or coffee?”

“You know me, I’m a caffeine freak. But if a beer works for you, by all means.”

“You should take it easy on the coffee, bud,” Shredder said. “It’s a diuretic you know. Sucks the water from your tissues. Working against yourself drinking that, then trying to stay hydrated for peak performance.”

“Who made you the team trainer all of a sudden?”

“C’mon, you know I’m right,” Shred said with a clap on Cole’s shoulder. Even without his goalie glove, his mitts were still huge. “Are you going down to
Blues
?”

“Yeah, you coming along or not?”

Shredder thought about it, then waved a lazy hand. “Naw. You go.”

Cole changed clothes and left the apartment. He felt somewhat relieved that Shredder had chosen to stay behind. If – no,
when
– he found Trey at
Blues
, he had a few questions to ask him and things might get ugly and turn into an all-out brawl. He decided to walk the few blocks, the night air clearing his head and his sinuses. The air-conditioned buses always seemed to stuff them up. In a few minutes, he reached the coffee house. He looked over the funky exterior for a moment, then stepped inside.

Walking over to the row of coffee machines, Cole decided on which of his personal recipes to concoct. Nothing too dark at this time of night; he needed to sleep eventually. A light Colombian would do nicely, he thought and stepped behind the bar to start construction.

“Hey,” called a voice. Cole looked up to see Trey sauntering toward him. “You guys just get back from your road trip?”

Cole’s stomach lurched. He’d spent most of the trip home figuring out how he’d react when he saw Trey. What he would say. And it wasn’t good. Nausea crawled up the back of his throat, threatening to run down his arm, fist his palm and cold-cock the mother fucker. “Yeah,” was all he could say, resuming his coffee preparations. It would keep his hands busy and prevent him from throat punching him.

Trey leaned an elbow on the polished bar surface. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you at the karaoke night. I need you to sign the petition against Murphy’s bar.”

Cole looked up. “Petition? The construction’s nearly finished. How can you petition against that? Besides, I can’t be involved. Murphy signs my checks, man. It’s a major conflict of interest.”

Trey held up a hand. “Just asking. All you had to say was no.” He smiled and pushed away from the bar. “The petition is just a backup, anyway. The real action will come from the coalition. We’re appealing to the Planning and Zoning Department to have it shut down. And a stop work order on the skyway and parking ramp.”

Cole topped his coffee with low-fat milk foam and a sprinkle of cinnamon. He was determined to enjoy this cuppa despite the maelstrom of emotions roiling inside; the least of which were his sympathies for Trey’s problems. “Good luck with that,” he replied, lifting his cup and taking a sip of his caffeinated creation.
Perfect.

“Wow, what’s up your ass, dude? That famous NHL cock of yours not getting enough pussy? Maybe you should go home and bang that little brunette number you left with the other night. What was her name again? Louisa?”

Cole set his cup down in slow-motion. Holy fuck. Did the guy really not remember a girl he sexually assaulted in high school? Or even her name? He couldn’t imagine anyone not noticing or remembering someone as stunning as Eloise. No wonder Trey was divorced if his attitude toward women was so callous. Discovering this ugly side of someone he considered a close friend for many years sickened him. It was like lifting a rock and finding a nest of snakes underneath.

“You lived in Columbus, right, Trevor?” Cole asked after a long moment, emphasizing his name.

Trey gave him a wary look, as though someone had just walked over his grave. “That’s right. How’d you know that?”

“Well, unlike you, I’m good with names,” Cole said. “Why’d you change yours? Something in your dark, dirty Ohio past you don’t want following you here? Dirty laundry?”

“Huh?” Trey looked confused. “Listen, I think you’ve got a touch of road fever. You should rest up. Nothing’s following me from shit hole Ohio.”

“Really? Well then, your memory’s not so good either. That little number introduced herself at the Town Hall, asshole. Eloise Robertson. From Columbus. She went to your high school. Ringing any bells… Trevor?”

“Oh shit,” Trey cursed, dropping his chin as though bored with the subject. “That was ancient history, man. Who gives a shit what happened in high school? I kicked off the dust of that crummy burgh more than ten years ago.”

“Well, you left a pretty nasty trail,” Cole said, venom in his voice. “Tell me, were there any other girls you plied with bootlegged liquor and raped before you skipped town?” Trey glared at Cole, rising to his full height. He still fell a few inches short of him. Cole could flatten him with a single punch. His fists clenched in anticipation. “So many you force fucked that their names all run together?”

“What?” Trey spat the question and waved Cole toward the door, fear creasing his brow as his breath came in tiny pants. “I think you better leave. I’m closing soon.”

“Oh, you’re closing alright. And I won’t need a petition to shut you down.”

Chapter Fourteen

Eloise sat at her desk, reviewing the press releases she’d composed for the grand opening as well as the Riot’s stats and standings for the website. She noted Cole Fiorino scoring two goals and one assist in the game against the Wild, bringing his personal point total to seventy-nine. Cole was badass at his job, of that there could be no denial. Their failed relationship hadn’t seemed to affect his on-ice performance. A ping of regret snaked through her stomach.

To her credit, Kylie didn’t badger Eloise about the karaoke night, but she could tell that her assistant was hovering; waiting for any juicy tidbit to drop like Hansel and Gretel’s trail. She stood in the doorway to El’s office, proffering a tall cup of her special coffee with steamed milk.

“I made you this,” she said, holding out her offering with worried eyes. “Time for a break?”

Eloise pushed back from her computer. “Thanks. Come on in, Kyles.”

Kylie smiled as though she’d just won a door prize and carried the steaming mug carefully to the desktop. “I added nutmeg this time, try it.”

“I told you not to mess with a good thing,” Eloise scolded.

And I wish Cole Fiorino would understand that as well. When you’ve just experienced the best sex of your life, you don’t run like a frightened rabbit.

“Sometimes you have to try new things. Switch up the karma.”

“Something wrong with my karma?” Eloise asked.

Kylie sighed and put her hands on her hips. “I can see your aura vibrating around you. It’s very negative. Be thankful I’ve only used nutmeg and not something stronger. Like truth serum. When are you going to tell me what happened between you and Cole?”

Eloise lifted the cup and sniffed the unique aroma rising from it. Nutmeg. Not bad. She took a sip. “I have an aura? Who knew?”

“Everyone has an aura,” Kylie stated. “But I don’t need to see it to know that you’re moping. Something’s wrong, Eloise.”

Eloise had always been open with her PA; they enjoyed a good relationship and trusted one another. But there was such a thing as too much sharing. She didn’t want to hurt Kylie’s feelings, but the emotions swirling in her gut right now were just too personal, too painful to reveal. They didn’t belong in the office; and neither did a romantic relationship. She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

“I’m sorry that I’m moping,” she said, glancing up and beseeching Kylie with her sad eyes to let it go. “I guess I’m just not ready to talk about it. I hope you understand.”

Kylie’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. Yeah, sure,” she said, trying to sound okay with being shut out. Eloise knew better.

“Ready for the grand opening?” Eloise asked, changing the subject.

“On the inside, yes. But I’m nervous about what I heard at
Blues & Brews
. What do you think might happen outside on the street?”

“We can’t predict that. All we can do is beef up security. To us, it needs to be business as usual but on high alert.”

“Right,” Kylie said. “I’ll double check with the security chief to make sure he has enough staff on hand.”

“Thanks, Kyles.” Eloise’s cell phone beeped a text message.

Kylie’s eyebrows went up. “Hear that? It’s the sound of your karma being interrupted.” She winked and left Eloise’s office in peace.

Eloise picked up the phone, her hopes rising irrationally. Her karma could definitely use some positive interruption.

Cole
: Hey PDL


She smiled and felt the tightness in her chest release. It was no good pretending she didn’t care about the man. Perhaps he’d had some philosophical epiphany while on the road.
Which could be good or bad. Either way, she was glad to hear from him, in spite of her continued misgivings about him ever being the man that she needed. The one a woman could trust when the torpedoes were coming in.

Eloise
: Hey… good game vs Wild… well done

Cole
: Thx… u free 4 dinner latr

Eloise
: Maybe… where u now

Cole
: Home… bored… thinkin of u… pick u up at 6?

Eloise
: No… come to office

If they were in a place of business, the less chance she’d melt and form a puddle at his feet. She didn’t trust herself to keep her distance otherwise. Seconds ticked by before his single alpha reply.

Cole
: k

***

At 5:59 p.m., Eloise heard the outer doors to her office swish open. She felt her pulse elevate despite her afternoon’s worth of efforts to push Cole Fiorino out of her mind. Just the thought of him sent her heart to pounding and her panties to flooding.

Kylie had already gone home when footsteps crossed the empty reception area. She looked up to see Cole standing in her doorway. He took her very breath away. As her eyes traveled up all luscious six foot and three inches of him, her intended inhale caught in her throat when they reached his face.

“What in the hell happened to you? I didn’t hear about any fight at the Wild game! I hope whoever high-sticked you got at least a two game suspension!” She left her office chair and rushed over to where he stood.

Cole smiled in spite of the black and purple ring around his left eye. “I think he’ll be out for more than that. I went to see Trey. I mean Trevor.”

“Oh, no. What happened? Besides the obvious.” She reached up and gingerly pressed a fingertip to the bruising on his face. He only flinched a little.
Real tough guy
.

Cole caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. Eloise felt her knees start to wobble.
Puddle, here I come
.

“El,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a class one J.A.” His twin blues rippled like wavelets on the ocean as he locked eyes with her. She wanted to dive in and drown inside them.

“You can’t help the morals your family instilled,” she said. “No more than I can.”

“Morals are for stories, like Aesop’s fables. This is real life. Shit happens, and you have to deal with it the best way you know how. I can’t blame you for what you did. It would have ruined your future. That, and he forced himself on you.
Forced
himself. I can’t think of anything worse for a woman.”

She looked down at her shoes, shame curling through her. “In a way, it already has.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know for sure. But what I do know, Eloise Robertson,” he said, drawing her into his arms, is that I’ve never met anyone like you, and I don’t want to lose you. Do I get that second chance now? Please?”

Eloise nodded, dissolving into his embrace. “Will you tell me what happened with Trevor?”

“You were right. He hasn’t changed, and he wasn’t trying to spare my feelings. He didn’t remember you at all when I confronted him. How anyone could forget you is beyond me,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “Let’s just say he won’t be singing any Bob Marley tunes anytime soon.”

“You hit him.”

“Several times.”

“In the throat? That’s cheap.”

“It was his own fault. I was aiming for his jaw. He moved. That’s when he got lucky and landed this one,” he said, pointing to his shiner.

Eloise smiled and shook her head in mock disdain. She cupped his face with both hands. “You goon.”

Cole flashed his dimpled grin. “Well, I’m-a-goona kiss you, pretty doughnut-lady. Brace yourself.”

Her laugh was quickly smothered with another of Cole’s crushing, mind-numbing, panty-wetting kisses. She didn’t care. With her salary, she could buy plenty of underwear.

***

The Riot’s regular season came to a close with an impressive one hundred and five points, sending them to the top of the Central Division and clinching a playoff spot. Since the February trade, the team had gone almost undefeated, due in no small part to the addition of Cole Fiorino to the roster. Sheehan Murphy’s instincts to bust open the piggy bank to acquire him had paid off, big time.

It was no accident they’d set the opening date for
Murphy’s Finest
for the first home game of round one, and all hands were on deck for the party. Eloise made several tours of the bar, checking everything from the bar taps to the cocktail napkins. The venue was impressive. Marble bar tops and floors gleamed under uber-modern overhead light fixtures. Private gallery artwork graced the walls, along with vintage photos of the Murphy distillery operations down through the decades.

An hour or so before puck drop, a few VIP guests were already settled in the prime viewing area over the rink, but more were expected and had yet to show. Eloise waited for Murphy to make his rounds so she could ask him if he’d been advised of any delays in transportation for the remaining VIPs. She couldn’t stem a feeling of foreboding. She’d met with the contracted police unit and briefed the arena security staff to be on alert for any suspicious activity, but it didn’t completely alleviate her nervousness. She stood by the huge glass windows admiring Rochester’s twinkling night skyline when she felt a gentle hand on her back.

“Hey sexy lady, got any doughnuts for a starving hockey player?” a voice rumbled low in her ear. All of her body hair pricked to attention.

She smiled and turned to face him. He looked fantastic in his standard pre-game attire, a dress shirt, tailored sports jacket and jeans. “No, but stick around and there might be other treats in store.”

“Mmm, I can hardly wait.” Eloise slipped her hands behind his strong neck as he kissed her, her palms stroking the muscled cords. She would never get enough of touching him, kissing him. Making love to him. She hoped the latter would be happening again soon. The feel of his tongue exploring the deepest corners of her mouth set her privates on fire, pining for a long, slow lick.

“Shouldn’t you be in the dressing room?” she asked when their lips parted. “And aren’t we supposed to be keeping this on the down low?”

Cole grinned and kissed her again. “I’ve got a few minutes. Just wanted to see you and check if everything’s going okay. I’ve heard rumblings about mutiny on the bounty.”

Eloise gave a weak smile and nodded. “So far, so good. There’s a rumor the coalition might cause some kind of trouble tonight, trying to screw up the opening. You heard anything specific?”

Cole shook his head. “Nothing outside of some offhand remarks from Shred. Haven’t been around at the
Blues
since the blowup with Trey. I can’t believe he’d do anything that stupid. He could find himself in jail.”

“I hope you’re right. Not the jail part, but the not-being-stupid part.” She laughed nervously, still fearful that something bad was about to happen.

Cole grabbed Eloise’s hand and squeezed it. “There’s arena security all over the place; they’ll spot anything a mile away,” he assured her. She smiled and rested her head on his chest, inhaling the seductive scent of Gucci that she loved. The peaceful moment was spoiled by a familiar angry shout.

“Hey, lover boy, get your overpaid ass down to the dressing room and win this fucking game!” Murphy yelled as he stormed up to them, Kristoff following in his wake.

Cole released Eloise’s hand and turned to face Murphy. “I was just leaving,” he said coldly. He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her as he left the bar.

“Have a good game,” Eloise said, her ire rising at Murphy’s ludicrous treatment of his star player. Her eyes followed the gorgeous jean-clad ass that Murphy had just blasphemed as it sauntered across the room and descended the stairs.

“Sheehan,” she said, her voice grating in irritation. “There’s no call for that.” She turned to face him. “Did you pay all that money just so you could intimidate the man, break his focus? How does that help the team win? It’s totally counterproductive.”

“Ooh, listen to the big words coming out of your mouth,” he mocked. “Bet you won all the spelling bees at the Carlson School of Manhandling. Listen, just stuff Fiorino’s cock in there instead and keep your opinions to yourself, or you’ll be looking for another job before you can say ‘deep throat.’”

“Oh, she doesn’t do that kind of thing, Sheehan,” Kristoff chimed in, flashing an evil smile. “El has a bit of an aversion to eating sausage, don’t you, my dear? Believe me, I know.”

Eloise stiffened, not believing what she’d just heard; mostly not believing that a man she’d once loved could say such hurtful things, private things, in front of their boss and whoever else might be within earshot. Incredibly, her encounter with Trevor had scarred even this part of her life. Her lips trembled in both anger and frustration, but there were no words big enough to express her disgust with not only the two men standing in front of her but the absent one as well. A flash of reporting them both to human resources swept through her brain.

Sheehan ignored both Kristoff’s comments and El’s humiliation. “Where the hell are all my guests?” he growled, looking over at the half-empty VIP section.

Simultaneously, both her own and Sheehan’s cell phones went off. Checking the screen, Eloise’s heart sank as she saw the security chief’s number displayed. “Eloise Robertson,” she answered quickly, her throat tight.

“You’d better get the police down here at street level,” the chief said. “There’s about a hundred people forming a human chain around the entrances. No one can get in or out of the place.” She looked up at Murphy, reading the same message on his pitted, reddened face.