The Slot: A Rochester Riot Sports Romance (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Cole?” Eloise spoke into her phone. “Where are you
?
”

“I’m at
Blues
. Why?”

“Great. Stay right there, I have something to tell you.” She disconnected and hurried out of Lou Spieker’s office inside the Rochester Arena. When Lou had called her into a meeting the day after her altercation with Sheehan Murphy, she felt certain she’d be fired. But her bluff had worked. Murphy backed down and turned things over to their GM. It was a gamble that paid off, and as a result, Lou had proposed something beyond her wildest aspirations. She couldn’t wait to tell Cole.

When she arrived at
Blues
, she found Cole near the stage playing his guitar. She didn’t see Trey anywhere. He looked up as she approached and set down his instrument, fitting his guitar pick between the strings on the neck.

“Hey, what’s up, pretty doughnut-lady?”

Eloise realized she was out of breath with excitement. “Are you ever going to quit calling me that?” she asked. “I think we’re past it by now.”

“I kinda like it,” he said, walking toward her. “Reminds me of the night we met. Best night of my damn life.”

“You mean the night we didn’t meet. I didn’t even get your name,” she laughed. “And you lied to me too.”

“I lied?”

Eloise lifted her eyebrows. “I distinctly remember standing on the curb and asking you if you were a poet. And you answered in the negative. The Beantown Bard ring any bells?”

He laughed and pulled her in for a sweet kiss on the lips. “That, my dear, is what we call a half-truth.”

Eloise ignored his evasion. “I have some news for you,” she said. “Trevor too. Where is he?”

Cole shrugged. “Uh, he’s… out. What’s your news?”

“Well,” she began. “Lou has asked me if I’d be interested in the COO job for the team now that Murphy has stepped back. I can hardly believe it myself, but Lou and I have always got on well, and he thinks I’d be a good fit. He’d rather remain as the GM. That means I can help the local business owners. I can make the club into a better corporate citizen. We can create a true partnership with the community, help it grow by featuring all the local businesses within our advertising campaigns, rink boards, center clock, ice decals, you name it.”

Cole’s face seemed fixed in a neutral expression, like a stalled video stream. “That’s… that’s extraordinary,” he said after a few moments. “Wow. Who’d have thunk?” He walked past her to the coffee machines and started tinkering with the controls.

Puzzled, she followed him across the floor. “Isn’t that good news, Cole? It’s the opportunity of a lifetime for me. This means more money, and the opportunity to do some real good in the community. No more catering to Sheehan’s hidden agenda.” She wrinkled her nose, unable to believe she was about to say the next words, but she did. “I can help Trevor and the other owners.” She paused, waiting for a reaction. Something seemed off. “You guys are still friends, right?”

The coffee machine switched on, drowning out her words. She sat patiently, watching him create his latest caffeinated masterpiece. He drank it in silence.

“Cole?” she asked, her anxiety rising. “What do you think? Isn’t that fantastic? Is something wrong? Please talk to me, this is important to me.
You’re
important to me,” she pleaded.

He turned to look at her, his electric blue eyes registering disappointment. He seemed tired and restless. Down two games to one in the second round, the team would be headed out of town again in a few days, their playoff drive on the line. Perhaps it was too much to ask for him to be excited about her career.

“I’m happy for your new job,” he said. “Congratulations. But I have some news too. I thought you’d be pleased, but…” he broke off and took a deep breath. “Maybe you and I are headed in opposite directions. Sounds like you’ll be even busier than before. I’ll be on the road half the year. I could be traded to another team, you never know. I don’t think it’s the kind of life you’d want. Because you’re Eloise Robertson. Always kicking ass and taking names.”

Eloise felt her chest crushing in. Just when she thought she’d solved all the problems, cleared all the hurdles, it sounded like he wanted to break up with her. The idea of not being with him made her insides go hollow, and the feeling was unbearable.

“Don’t say that,” she said, a shudder in her voice. “I want a life with you, Cole. I’ll make it work. You’ll see.”

A doubtful smile crossed his features, then disappeared. “Sure. You say that now.”

“I mean what I say. You should know that about me by now. What’s your news? I really want to hear it.”

Cole looked up at the ceiling, then at the walls. “This,” he said, gesturing to the space around them. “I made a deal with Trey. He needed the money, and I have tons of it. Eventually, I have to start thinking about my life after hockey.” He sighed. “You’re looking at the new owner of
Blues & Brews
, soon to be renamed Casa Fiorino. I’m thinking of turning it into an authentic Italian bistro featuring my mom’s recipes.”

Eloise’s jaw dropped open in surprise. “Really? That’s totally brilliant!”

“Well, of course, I can’t run it myself and be on the team,” he said.

“Spud can run it, he does that already,” she offered.

Cole nodded. “Sure, but he has no marketing skills. I was thinking… maybe you’d run it. As my partner,” he said, looking into her eyes. “In everything.”

Eloise returned his gaze, trying to determine if he was saying what she thought he was saying. Her heart felt twisted in two directions. “Is that your warped idea of a proposal?”

***

Eloise sat waiting outside Lou Spieker’s office. The last few weeks had been a blur, a thousand things to consider and weigh against each other. She thought about her conversation with Sophia and the wisdom their mother had shared with all her girls. Love is more important than work. Sometimes you got lucky and could have both, and Eloise felt lucky indeed.

She’d found a good gynecologist and arranged for a consultation. Her test results came back favorable, the doctor indicating there was no reason to believe she couldn’t conceive or carry a baby to term with the intervention of a fertility specialist, and the best in the world resided right in Rochester at the Mayo Clinic. Eloise’s attention to her health and diet being a major factor. Suddenly everything seemed possible, all her dreams within reach. But sometimes, to reach one dream, you had to let go of another. Eloise felt certain she was choosing the right one.

The door to the office opened, and Barbara stepped out. She looked happier than Eloise ever remembered seeing her. “Hi, El,” she said, her short blonde locks bobbing as she nodded in greeting.

“Hello, Barbara. Good to see you,” Eloise said with a smile.

“Good to see you too. I hear congratulations are in order,” she said.

“Thank you. It’s wonderful to have such a great opportunity.”

“You’ll make a great COO,” Barbara said, reaching to shake Eloise’s hand. “I’ll look forward to working with you.”

Eloise clasped Barbara’s outstretched hand. “I’m glad you’re staying on with the team.”

“Me too. I promise to do my best as the new Communications and Community Relations Director. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“You’ll be great. See you around,” Eloise said.

“Thank you.” Barbara waved and left the room looking positively buoyant.

“Eloise?” Lou called from his doorway.

“Hi Lou,” she answered, following him into his office.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite his desk. “You all ready to take on a new challenge? I have the offer letter and your contract right here, all we need’s your signature.”

“Thanks, Lou.” Eloise sat down, smoothing her skirt into place. “I appreciate your confidence in me. It means a lot.”

“You earned it, El. You’re an asset to the organization. Always have been.”

“I’m glad you think so. This is a major turning point in my career.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

Lou nodded in agreement. “Likewise. I look forward to continuing a great working relationship.”

“I appreciate that, and again, I want to thank you for believing in me and for your generous offer.”

“You’re welcome.” He handed her a fancy ball point pen.

“But I’ve decided I would be more fulfilled as the CEO of Casa Fiorino.”

Lou looked at her curiously, the pen suspended in his hand. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll stay on until this season’s over, but I’m leaving the Riot,” Eloise said. “Well, professionally speaking. I’ll be in the stands for as many games as possible.”

Lou smiled and nodded, despite the shocked look on his face. “That’s…that’s wonderful. I’m not sure what to say?”

Eloise smiled. “How about, ‘can I make a reservation please?’”

***

Cole felt the warm tropical breeze float across his skin. He opened his eyes to see palm trees waving lazily outside their window. Another perfect day in paradise. The Riot made it to the semifinals, but unfortunately, Lord Stanley would have to wait for another year. Cole didn’t mind; it meant he got to be on vacation in Florida that much sooner.

Eloise’s head lay nestled on top of his chest, still asleep. He combed his fingers through her long chestnut locks, already starting to lighten from the Florida sun. The last two months had been a challenge, but they’d made it work. Until the post season ended, Eloise carried her laptop and cell phone everywhere, and Cole made sure he cut his poker games and nights out with his teammates short in order to spend as much time together as possible. Each day they spent together made him more and more certain she was the one he’d been waiting for. His long history of groupie girlfriends had been a primer, a veritable dictionary of what-not-to-want in a woman, a wife, a mother for his children. But now the definition of all those lay right here in bed with him, snuggled and snoring right next to his heart. He couldn’t wait to get Casa Fiorino up and running when they returned to Rochester.

She stirred, wiggling against him under the covers. His hand rode the curves of her shoulder, her spine, and her deliciously round rump. The swish of skin against skin made his cock hard, and he hoped she’d wake soon so he could slide it home inside her, fuck her solid, fondle and suck her gorgeous tits and kiss her to distraction all before breakfast.

His visualizations all went to hell with the sound of her cell phone buzzing on the wicker nightstand next to the bed. The thing rarely stopped. Calls from the office in Rochester still came in with annoying frequency despite playing their last game a full two weeks ago. It was a compromise he’d have to learn to live with. Eloise groaned and rolled over to pick it up, one arm still draped around Cole’s torso.

“Hello,” she answered in that sexy morning voice he loved. His cock jerked even more stiffly to attention. “Hey, sis. No, no it’s fine. I’m up.”

Liar
, Cole thought. He was the one who was
up
.

“What?! No way! OMG, congrats! Getting married, that’s fantabulous. Oh, I’m so happy for you, sweetie!”

Cole looked down at her arm that lay around his midsection and pried her hand loose so he could hold it in his own. As she talked and dished with her sister, he vaguely wondered which one, as Eloise had two. Not that it mattered, but as he cradled her delicate hand he imagined how nice a ring would look on her dainty finger too.

They were partners in every sense of the word, and some pressed carbon would make it official. He couldn’t help but grin as he moved her hand down the length of his body.

She rose up on an elbow, grinning at him with one hand wrapped around his shaft and another pressing a phone against her ear.

According to Shredder, a dangerous rebound can drift into the slot. But rebounds weren’t always bad. Sometimes, they were called second chances.

Yes, he could spend a lifetime with this woman.

And he would.

***

BONUS STORY – BENCHED

PART ONE

By

Colleen Charles

Chapter 1

The ivory and gold antique dresser creaked with every shudder, like it needed a good spray of WD-40. A beveled mirror banged against the wall in perfect rhythm.

Heather McNeal clutched the mirror with her tapered fingers as she used it to stabilize her petite frame. The tanned flesh of her back was flush with the cool glass. Her eyes fluttered closed, concealing their unique blue color and her lush lips fell open. Tiny pants of breath escaped on sighs. Her long, silky blonde hair clung to her flushed face.

She wrapped long, slender legs around Mark Spencer’s toned abs and back as he spread her legs wide. Heather’s skirt bunched up around her waist and he snaked an arm around her to yank her closer. The other hand freed her breast from the lacy black push-up bra. He kneaded the plump flesh with his fingers, then bent to taste the rosy tip with a flick of his tongue.

Adam Spencer inhaled a ragged breath. He knew.
Knew
what was happening before seeing it with his own eyes. Now, the only thing that mattered was the identity of the man with his pants down around his ankles. The one he was about to kill.

And the bitch.

She’d betrayed him. In the damned newly renovated room with its damned cedar ceiling, hand-scraped floors and fucking expensive leather furniture. In that beautiful room was the sight that would be burned in his brain for all eternity.

The sight of his asshole brother fucking his fiancée.

The same girl he’d loved since grade school. The one who loved him just as much.
Had
loved him. Past tense.

He stood there in the door frame, eyes locked on his brother’s bare ass as his cock pounded in and out of his future wife. Numb. The numbness pervaded, but anger would come later. Right now, he just stared. Patiently waiting for them to notice they weren’t alone. Patiently waiting for them to start blabbing at him with a bunch of bullshit excuses that would make his heartbreak even worse.

Adam’s only sign of emotion was a slight flush of red underneath his Michigan State cap. He clenched his fingers into fists, released and then clenched them again, as his mind focused sharply to another horrid time in his life…

“You have a torn ACL in your right knee. In some cases, athletes recover well and still have a career. You’ll need surgery, Adam. You’ll be sidelined at least a year.”

“Mark, my God. You’re hitting me in exactly the right spot. I’m going to come. Please…”

Hearing Heather’s breathy words jolted Adam back to the present. With a few long strides across the freshly laid hardwood floor, he hovered just a short arm-length away. As if they weren’t connected to his torso, Adam’s arms snaked out and grabbed his brother by his long, brown hair. He threaded his fingers through the mass of thick waves and yanked. Hard. Harder than he’d done back in the third grade when Mark had wrecked his favorite Power Ranger. Not stopping until he heard Mark’s yelp of pain. Adam finally felt something when he noticed the recognition in Mark’s brown eyes. Quickly replaced by panic.

Adam welcomed the rage. White hot and all encompassing. He took advantage of Mark’s bemused state to land a bone crunching right hook to his pretty face.

“You fucking bastard. You were here for me, huh? Said you’d take care of everything? That include fucking my future wife? Is that the kind of care you were thinking about?” Adam shrieked, not recognizing his own voice.

Heather leapt from her perch on the dresser, only stopping long enough to pull her skirt back down over her exposed pussy with the fresh Brazilian. Traitorous bitch. She wrapped her arms around Adam’s torso and clung to his back like a leech, trying in vain to stop him from kicking Mark’s scrawny ass. That’s when Adam noticed the three-carat diamond solitaire sparkling up at him from her left hand. She hadn’t even bothered to take off his ring while she fucked his brother.

“Stop!” she screamed, terror coloring her voice. “Adam, you’re killing him!”

“Good. That’s what I’m trying to do.” Adam stopped hitting only long enough to spit the words in her direction as he hooked his left arm around her waist and tossed her to the side. Heather hit the floor on her ass. Like the trash she was. “Maybe next time he’ll think twice before whipping his dick out to betray his motherfucking flesh and blood!”

Not until Mark lay on the floor of the converted barn like a blood covered lump did Adam stop and take some breaths. Great heaving breaths that took over his entire body. And soul. He was done. Done with the whore who couldn’t keep her legs shut. Done with his brother.

No.

Not his brother anymore.

Never.

“I’m leaving,” he spat as he turned on his heel and started towards the door. “You’re both dead to me.”

Adam stomped toward his silver Dodge Ram, leaving the barn door agape. One last reminder of what he’d left inside. What he’d just lost. He climbed in, slammed the door and turned the key hard before yanking the gear shift into reverse and hitting the gas pedal, sending the extended cab in a spin. As he deliberately pumped the brakes, he shifted into drive and left a spray of gravel hurtling toward Heather’s white Mercedes. But the action of marring the perfect paint on the luxury car still left him cold.

Once on the paved road, Adam punched it, hell bent on reaching his house as fast as he could get there. Something. He needed some kind of comfort. Like Jack Daniels or Johnny Walker.

Or maybe John Deere.

He’d always been able to turn off the demons doing chores in the barn. Something about the smell of the hay and the feel of his muscles rippling underneath his shirt when he engaged in any kind of hard physical labor. Yeah, that was it. He’d take out the tractor or work on some fence repair. Except it was dusk and night would fall before he got back to the farm.

Nausea bubbled up from his gut and crawled up the back of his throat when an image of Heather invaded his brain. Heather with her svelte shape, lush lips and long, platinum hair that felt like spun silk in his hands. Heather, holding his hand tightly during the ambulance ride from the arena. Her ocean blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she tried to be strong at the hospital.

“I love you so much, Adam. No matter what this is, we’ll face it head on. Together.”

The biggest crock of bullshit in the history of the free world.

He was a complete moron.

Adam pursed his lips and slammed a fist down on the leather steering wheel. Never again would he be taken in by a woman. Gold diggers, whores and dishonest pieces of shit.

A ringing and vibrating in his jeans pocket pulled him back to reality. And torment.

It was her.

Not fucking likely, bitch. Dead to me. Pretty sure I was crystal clear on that front. Now I can add ignorant to your glowing list of attributes.

Adam touched the ignore button and continued on down the highway, turning on the radio so he could blare Jason Aldean at ten decibels. As he pulled onto the familiar gravel road, memories of his folks danced across his consciousness. His mom standing on the front porch, hands on her ample hips, telling everyone to come on up for fried chicken and cornbread. His dad in the cab of the combine, with thin lips moving as he argued about the price of pork bellies with local talk radio. Now, the house loomed before him. Empty. Laughter, joy, and family had floated away like confetti on a light breeze.

The atmosphere was stagnant. The only sounds permeating the country air were the footfalls of his boots as they hit the rickety stairs. The heavy cedar door creaked when he turned the knob that opened the two-story farmhouse. He stood in the entrance, overwhelmed by memories that attacked from every photo, knick-knack, and antique. Then, he saw it. Heather’s dancing eyes burned through to his soul from their engagement picture taken on the porch swing. In the place of honor above the fireplace. The same place where his family photo had once been.

Adam ripped it off the wall and gripped it tightly until he could reach the front door again. He opened the door and flung it out onto the front lawn. He’d deal with disposal tomorrow. Right now, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. Couldn’t even stand knowing any image of her was in his home. The attic. He knew there was a lovely photo of his folks from their thirtieth wedding anniversary up there. He’d find it and bring it down tomorrow. She’d be replaced.

First, he’d get drunk until he couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear.

Couldn’t
feel
.

Adam turned and rummaged around in the fridge for some beer. No. Not strong enough. This was a whiskey night. Straight whiskey. Burning down the back of his throat, shot after shot.

As he grabbed a glass tumbler from the cabinet and a bottle of Jim Beam, he thought back to the last time he talked to her. It had been hard keeping the surprise a secret. The surprise that he was coming home early just to spend quality time with her.

Surprise!

Adam rubbed his face, attempting to rid himself of the nightmare looping in his head. Splashing some of the dark amber liquor into his glass, he threw it down the back of his throat, welcoming the sting. Soon, he wouldn’t feel anything anymore. It would probably take half the bottle and a few hours, but he’d drink her off his mind just like a bad country song.

Adam teetered slightly as he clutched the bottle in one hand and the glass in the other. He put his stocking clad foot on the first step leading to the second floor. Her shit. It needed to get the hell out of his house. Now. She’d never see it again. Unless she happened to drive by like the pathetic stalker she was, and see it littering the yard and trees.

It felt good to open the window and allow the kiss of the fresh air to caress his booze fevered skin as he flung everything she’d ever left here out onto the grass. No, it didn’t feel good. It felt fucking phenomenal. He started to drift again when he splashed some whiskey on a pair of her black, lace panties. The same ones he’d pulled down her body with his teeth in an anxious rush to taste her. To possess her.

“Adam, your ACL is healing, but at a much slower rate than what we were hoping for.”

“So, what’s next... more rehab, medical steroids...”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do. I can’t clear you to play. I’m afraid this is a career ending injury for you. I’m really sorry, Adam. I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I have to be honest.”

“What are you saying? I’m not understanding?”

He’d stopped listening after he’d heard the word ‘can’t’. No fucking way he wasn’t playing hockey this year. Goddamn it! Come hell or high water. Whatever it took. He’d play again. Hockey was his life. His breath.

His soul.

“Adam, if you were to fall the wrong way or slightly twist your knee during the course of play, the damage would be far too extensive to repair. Adam, this is no longer about hockey. It’s about walking. It’s about being able to have a normal life outside of sports.”

Adam ripped himself away from the mental torture as he threw a red Michael Kors dress into the towering oak tree with large branches flush with the house. The same one he and Mark had used to escape curfew as high school hooligans.

Hell, he’d been the star of the high school hockey team and Mark had been his adoring younger brother. Dad hadn’t been too hard on them as long as they kept their boyish antics away from the destructive or the criminal. Getting a little drunk and ripping it up with their group of friends.

And Heather.

Tumbling her in the hayloft or the bed of his truck down by the creek as they listened to the soft sounds of the trickling water over the rocks.

Adam shook his head and poured some more whiskey into the cut crystal. His mom’s favorite. The numbness. Blessed, but it was taking too damn long tonight.

What was that annoying tingling in his pants? Yeah, that was it. A couple of douchebags calling. He tore the phone out of his jeans and flung it out the window too. He’d deal with it tomorrow.

Tomorrow.

That’s when he’d deal with everything.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Blue.

Blue was with Jeff. Damn. Never was there a time in his life when he needed his yellow lab more than this moment.

Blue, I need you, buddy. Daddy’s coming.

Jeff lived on the neighboring farm and had been Adam’s best friend since first grade so it wouldn’t matter if he drove a little tipsy from the mailbox to the driveway. Hell, it was only about fifty yards on the blacktop.

Adam guided the Dodge onto the county road and hoped Jeff was at home. Otherwise, he’d have to steal his own damn dog. It was so dark outside, he hadn’t been able to see well enough to retrieve the iPhone he’d flung to the lawn in his last snit of rage. Pictures of Mark’s bare ass as he pounded into Heather, her blue eyes alight with passion gripped his brain. Except, now, there were two of her. Adam rubbed his eyes, he never should have gotten behind the wheel because the four shots of Beam had finally reached his veins to numb his overloaded senses.

A red light pierced through the fog. A semi full of corn was in his lane, heading straight for him. Or was Adam in his lane? The trucker laid on the horn and hit the brakes so hard it jackknifed his overladen vehicle. Ears of corn exploded into the air, raining down on his windshield.