Hot Puck, A Rough Riders Hockey Novel
Hot Puck: Chapter 2

Beckett’s head throbbed like a mother. The next time he saw Decker on the ice, that man was going to curse the day he was born.

His pain didn’t help tamp down his annoyance with this little hottie twittering over Donovan. She was supposed to be swooning over Beckett, dammit. Only, Kennedy obviously hadn’t gotten that memo.

“I’m going to put an ice pack on your head.” Kennedy’s voice had softened since Beckett had stopped bullying her.

She laid a cold compress over the crown of his head toward the back where he hurt most, and the cold spread over his angry skull like soothing fingers. Beckett sighed with relief.

“How long until we get to the hospital?” he asked.

“Gabe?” she called toward the front.

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” the driver replied. “Depends on traffic.”

“I don’t mind a longer, quieter ride, if you know what I mean,” Beckett called back. “I think the siren might split my head open.”

“Roger that.”

He glanced at Kennedy again. “My phone’s in the locker room. Do you have one that I can use to pull up the game?”

She slipped the blood pressure cuff around his arm with a silly little fat-chance grin.

“Hey, Gabe,” he tried. “Can you get the game on the radio?”

A laugh bubbled out of Kennedy. A sweet, light bubble of laughter that felt like a stream of carbonation through his gut. One that helped him focus on something other than the pain in his head.

“Sorry, boss,” Gabe said. “The only radio we’ve got connects directly to the hospital.”

“That sucks.” As did the occasional stab deep in his brain when he raised his voice. But it wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. Or wouldn’t deal with again.

“Tell me,” Gabe agreed.

After monitoring his pulse and blood pressure, Kennedy stood and bent over him. “I’m going to check for anything abnormal along your spine.”

She gripped the opposite rail with one gloved hand and slipped the other between his body and the backboard. Her gaze went distant, and her fingers gingerly followed the length of his spine from the edge of the collar to his hips. Then she stretched across him and repeated the action on the opposite side.

Teasing her helped keep his mind off his head. Off the fact that he was missing the game. Off the realization that everything was out of his control. “I think you missed a spot.”

Her gaze lifted and focused on his eyes. She was only three or four inches away and the instant intimacy shot a current through his chest that zapped his gut. He grinned, and an answering smile whispered over her mouth before she rolled her eyes.

She’d taken off her jacket, but her uniform shirt did an excellent job of cloaking any femininity hiding underneath. This close, Beckett caught the very subtle scent of something fruity and light. His synapses had obviously gotten scrambled in that mix-up on the ice, because he was catching some wickedly hot vibes from this woman. And there was definitely nothing outwardly sexual about her.

Except maybe her sassy, take-charge attitude. That was pretty damn sexy. Plus, that face… There was no missing all that delicate bone structure and quiet symmetry. Her hair was the color of straw and wound in a tight bun on the back of her head. Her cheekbones were high but soft. Her lips a pale blush and full. She definitely wasn’t the smokin’ hot, overtly feminine woman Beckett usually gravitated toward. He’d definitely changed over the last year—in dozens of different ways—but he was still a four-inch-fuck-me-heels kind of guy. A tight dress, makeup, and perfume kind of guy.

And Kennedy certainly wasn’t that. In fact, Beckett couldn’t even imagine her dolled up. Yet, he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d just gone too long between hookups. This year had been brutal on his extracurricular activity.

“I don’t feel anything obvious,” she said, dropping back to a seat and scribbling notes on a clipboard.

“Then you weren’t touching the right place.”

She smirked but didn’t look up.

“Do you think we could lose the strap on my arms?”

Her gaze rose to his, narrowed.

“There’s no point in me causing trouble,” he assured her. “The game’s almost over by now, right?”

She reached out and freed the buckle holding the strap across his upper body. Beckett sighed and repositioned his arms. “Thank you.”

She reached out and slipped two fingers into his hand. “Squeeze.”

He’d barely gotten started when she said, “That’s good,” and moved on to the other. Then jotted more notes.

“Is Kennedy a first or last name? You never answered.”

“Last.” She stood again, set her clipboard down, and rounded the foot of the gurney, where she started unlacing his skates.

“If you’re gonna undress me, you can start up here.”

She grinned at him, her head tilted, her gaze flirty and hot around the edges. “I like to take my time.”

“And I like the sound of that.”

When she tugged off a skate, Beckett’s mind refocused. “Hey, can you make sure my skates stay with me?”

A more authentic smile curled her lips, making Beckett’s focus cling to them. To their pretty shape. Their plumpness. The dip in her upper lip. “You sound like my last patient, only he was six, and he wanted his blanket.”

“So you’d be nicer to me if I was six?”

“I am being nice, and somehow I think a big part of you still is six.”

He laughed and watched her hands move on his laces. The sight created a strange tug in his belly. He couldn’t remember anyone ever lacing or unlacing his skates for him. “They’re my favorite pair.”

She pulled off one skate and set it on the gurney beside his leg, then met his gaze—the first time she’d looked at him without a flare of anger darkening her expression. Her eyes were a warm bluish green. “How many pairs do you have?”

“Um…” He had to think about that. “I’m not sure. More than the other guys. Five? Six? I like to keep them. I’m sentimental like that.”

“Eight,” Gabe said. “I read it in Sports Illustrated, so it has to be true, right?”

Kennedy met Beckett’s gaze, and they started laughing at the same time. Her face glowed and her eyes sparkled. Oh yeah, she was a beauty all right. And they shared a moment of intimacy that dug in and held on to something inside Beckett. One he really wanted to explore.

Preferably in bed.

Kennedy placed her hand on the ball of his foot. “Push.”

After he obeyed, she repeated the movement with the other foot, then pulled his skates into her lap while she made notes. When she finished, she tucked the laces inside the skates and asked, “What makes these your favorite?”

He would have glanced toward the cab but couldn’t move his head, so he slid his eyes that direction. “Do you know, Gabe?”

“Nope. You’ve got me there.”

He met Kennedy’s eyes again and could see by her softened posture and easy grin he was slowly gaining her approval. “I was wearing them when I scored my two hundredth goal in the NHL. I also have the ones I was wearing when I scored my hundredth and my first.”

“Huh. Sentimental.” She looked at the skates again, gave a nod. “Who’d have guessed?” And moved on with questions. “Do you have any allergies to medications?”

She huh’d away his two hundredth goal in the NHL? What did it take to impress this girl?

“One for one,” he said. “I’ll answer one of your questions, then you answer one of mine.”

“You’re forgetting the whole this-is-my-ambulance, you’re-on-my-turf-now thing.” She moved her hands in a circle, indicating the inside of the rig. Then asked again, “Do you have any allergies to medications?”

“No,” he answered. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Her hands dropped against the clipboard, and she heaved a sigh.

“No,” Gabe answered for her. “She doesn’t.”

Beckett started laughing.

“Hey.” Kennedy tried to shoot a glare toward the front of the vehicle, but she was grinning. “No ganging up allowed.” She returned her gaze to the clipboard. “Have you had any surgeries?”

“Torn right ACL, bad left rotator cuff. What are you wearing under your uniform?”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. Gabe was the one who burst out laughing this time.

“Dude,” Beckett called toward the front, “if you know the answer to that, we’re going back to the boyfriend question.”

“You two are hil-ar-ious,” she said. “Do you have any other medical problems?”

A slow, dark laugh stuttered past his lips. “I’ve heard some people consider an erection lasting more than four hours a ‘problem.’”

Gabe’s laughter rolled into another, deeper round.

“Okay.” She put her pen down, but she was grinning, and laughter shook her shoulders. Beckett liked the fact that she could lighten up after such an intense show of passion earlier. He got that. It was the same as his on-ice, off-ice personality shift. “We’re done. And, oh look, there’s the hospital. Lucky me.”

“You owe me an answer,” he said. “Do you always work the games?”

“Nope. I’m covering for someone tonight.”

“Bummer.” A true lick of disappointment irritated him. “Not a hockey fan?”

“I like hockey about as much as you like being pulled out of the game to go to the hospital.”

Gabe added, “Truth.”

That was a real bummer. “Did you watch tonight?” Beckett asked, hoping she’d seen some of his impressive plays.

“Nope, I was reading.”

Reading? Instead of watching hockey? He couldn’t even fathom the possibility. Especially not when she had one of the best views in the stadium. “You know a lot of people would kill to watch the game from where you guys stand.”

“So Gabe tells me.”

Beckett should cut his losses right here. She wasn’t his type, she wasn’t fawning over him, and she didn’t like hockey. Three strikes.

But after Gabe got out of the truck, he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Do you feel the same about hockey players as you do about the game?”

Didn’t this make the most pathetic picture ever? Trying to chat up a chick who was barely tolerating him, while riding in an ambulance trapped in a neck brace, tied to a backboard?

But Beckett had always been a sucker for a challenge.

“I couldn’t say,” she said. “I don’t know any hockey players.”

“You do now.”

“Hardly. We met thirty minutes ago.”

“Not only did we meet, but we’ve had our first fight and made up—all in half an hour. The next step is always makeup sex. Imagine where we could take this given a couple of uninterrupted hours.”

She was smiling, her pretty eyes holding his with the first flicker of real interest when Gabe opened the back doors. The movement broke the momentary trance, and Beckett tried to think of a way to get it back while she and Gabe lowered him to the ground.

“Why don’t you give me your number,” Beckett said, “and we can finish talking about this another time?”

“Thanks, but I’m going to pass.” Kennedy looked at Gabe over Beckett’s head. “I’ll let you take him in while I straighten up the back.” She lowered her gaze to Beckett’s and reached out to squeeze his lower leg with a quick, sincere “Good luck to you, Beckett Croft” before disappearing into the ambulance.

Beckett exhaled heavily as Gabe pulled him across the parking lot. “I can’t remember the last time a woman wouldn’t give me her number.”

“Eden’s definitely not most women,” Gabe said. “She’s better. Way better.”

He lifted his gaze to the man at the head of the gurney. “You got a thing for her, man?”

“Nah, we’re just friends. But she’s really an awesome chick. She’d be worth the trouble if you wanted to make the effort.”

Beckett looked up at the night sky and thought of Lily. He instantly realized the logistics of hooking up with the feisty EMT would be as impossible as replaceing job security in the NHL. So he kept his mouth shut, relaxed into the gurney, and absorbed the disappointment the same way he sucked up a bad game.

Once Gabe transferred Beckett to the nurse on duty, he shook Beckett’s hand.

“Hey, thanks,” Beckett said. “When they unhook me, I’ll sign this jersey and send it to your work.”

“Wow.” Gabe’s face lit up. “That would be beyond awesome.”

“Least I can do. Thank Kennedy for me, would you?”

“You bet. Her first name is Eden, by the way. Stay safe.”

Gabe retreated from the room. Beckett was still thinking about Eden—and what a perfectly fitting name that was for the first woman who’d tempted him in quite a while—when the doctor came in for a quick assessment and ordered a CAT scan. While Beckett waited to be transported to Radiology, the nurse gave him a phone to call home.

His sister answered on the second ring with a cautious “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What number are you calling from?”

“The ER. They took me from the rink before I could grab my phone.”

Sarah’s exhale sounded relieved. “Are you trying to knock all your brains out of your head? You know you can’t have all that many left after twenty-five years in hockey.”

“Yeah, pretty sure I’m running on empty.” He closed his eyes as the thump-thump-thump radiated through his skull. “I’m at Georgetown. Going to be home late.”

“Do you need me to pick you up? I can have Mom come watch Lily—”

“No, no. I’ll have one of the guys get me. I’m sorry. I know you have to work in the morning. I’ll do what I can to hurry this along.” He craved the sound of his daughter’s sweet voice. “Lily’s probably passed out, isn’t she?”

His sister laughed. “Barely stayed awake through dinner.”

Beckett grinned. “So she liked dance class?”

“Well, she pirouetted to bed and fell asleep in her leotard, so, yeah, I’d say she’s hooked.”

The image of his five-year-old twirling herself into bed, her blonde head of corkscrew curls flying, made him laugh. The pressure hurt his head, but his heart still swelled, and he sighed. That kid was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Yeah, his social life had hit a wall when Lily’s mother had abandoned their daughter almost a year ago now and Beckett had taken over full-time care. But for every hour he missed out on with a woman like Eden, he only had to think of every moment with Lily to quell his disappointment.

“Have I told you lately how much I appreciate you?” he asked his sister.

“You tell me all the time. Don’t give the doctors trouble. Let them check you out, then get your butt home.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Beckett?”

“Yeah?”

“Make sure you wake Lily up to say good night when you get home. I promised her.”

He smiled. “I always wake her. She just doesn’t always remember.”

“And, um,” Sarah hedged, “Kim called tonight.”

The mention of Kim Dixon made Beckett’s smile fade. That explained Sarah’s suspicious tone when she’d answered.

A fist of anger and fear closed in his heart. Lily’s mother had only called three times over the last ten months, and each time it had been for money, not Lily. She hadn’t made any effort to visit their daughter in all that time. Kim hadn’t even alluded to missing her.

On the flip side, it had taken two months for Lily to stop asking for her mother. Three months to shake the neglect-induced illnesses she’d arrived with. And four months to stop waking almost every night with nightmares.

“What did she want?” he asked, his voice gravelly with anger and dread.

“I don’t know. I didn’t answer,” Sarah said, disgust in her voice. “I saw her number and let it go to the answering machine. If I talked to her, I would only have caused problems.”

Lily had quickly become a bright spot within his tight-knit family. She’d bonded with her cousins as if she’d been born a Croft, not introduced to Beckett only three years ago when she’d already been two years old.

Luckily, Kim’s relationship with the Raiders’ star running back was going well, which meant Beckett’s custody case had proceeded smoothly. If things between Kim and Henderson went south, Beckett knew she’d be back, demanding Lily—and not because she suddenly wanted to be a mother. She wanted Lily because having Lily meant she also had access to Beckett’s money. No Lily, no money. And Kim was all about the cash.

“I’ll take care of it,” Beckett said.

“You don’t think she… I mean, she couldn’t really…”

The heartbreak in Sarah’s voice stabbed at Beckett. Not for the first time, he recognized the price of bringing Lily into the family so completely. If Kim got custody back, his wouldn’t be the only heart broken. And seeing his family hurt would be a double blow.

“She probably wants money,” he assured Sarah. “And I’m doing everything possible to make sure she stays out of Lily’s life permanently.”

“Of course you are.” Sarah exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Beckett disconnected with his sister and thought a moment, then dialed his attorney.

Fred Henry picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Beck. Did you mean to dial my number, or is your vision crossed? You hit the ice pretty hard.”

“Not that hard. I just found out that Kim called my house tonight while I was at the game.”

“Uh-oh.” Fred’s voice dipped into a troubled tone. “How much did she want this time?”

“I don’t know. Sarah’s watching Lily tonight, and she didn’t answer the phone.”

“Smart. And where are you?”

“Georgetown University Hospital, but I’m fine. Listen, I don’t like her calling so close to the custody hearing. Can you put Toby back on her?” Fred’s investigator was amazing at digging up information. “I want to know how solid her relationship with Henderson is right now.”

“You got it.”

“Have you contacted her aunt yet?” Beckett asked. His mind filled with an image of the old woman who’d appeared on his doorstep dragging Lily by the arm. His daughter had been filthy and bawling and utterly distraught. The memory still stabbed his heart with a fiery dagger.

“The nursing home she went to closed, and the patients were scattered. They won’t give out information to anyone who isn’t next of kin, so Toby’s tracking her family to replace out where she went.”

A jumpy feeling Beckett usually only got before big games made his nerves stand on end. “I’d feel better if we upped the resources on this. Lily’s settled in school, she’s come out of her shell, she’s got friends, she’s tight with her cousins, she’s got my family doting on her.” She owns my heart. “Do what you need to do to locate her aunt and get her statement recorded. I’m not letting my daughter go back to living like an unwanted pet.”