Pucking Sweet: An MMF Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 3)
Pucking Sweet: Chapter 19

Oh shit. We should bring Doc Price out to the club with us every night. I’m sitting in our VIP booth next to Morrow, watching as Doc climbs into Sanford’s lap and starts telling off some blonde bunny-looking chick. This girl is not having it, and the mood is fucking tense.

“What am I watching?” Morrow asks.

On his other side, Sully says, “That’s Sanford’s ex. She’s a total ring-chaser. Dumped Sanny the minute he got his injury. I think she’s up here trolling.”

“Batten down those hatches, boys,” J-Lo warns from across the table.

We all shift uncomfortably. Karlsson goes so far as to cover his drink with his hand, holding it in close to his chest.

Listen, we don’t mind the bunnies. In fact, they can be a ton of fun. Some of my best times after a game have been spent laughing and joking around with the puck bunnies. But there are puck bunnies looking for a good time, and then there are the predator bunnies. It happens across all professional sports. We’re talking full Monty Python, go-for-the-jugular type bunnies.

Yeah, I said it. Women can prey on men too—especially some of these teenage rookies cashing big fat NHL checks who still don’t know their asses from their elbows. These bunnies will pick your pocket for your room key. They’ll follow you to the bathroom. They’ll replace your favorite coffee shop and camp out. It’s exceptionally rare, but it happens.

And it only needs to happen once for a player to learn to take it seriously. I’ve had a couple stalkers in the past. I even had a woman corner me at my car, trying to get inside. One more reason I prefer no names, no numbers, and no repeats. You can’t get attached with a one-and-done. Call me crass, but safety first.

The blonde has her arms crossed, glaring down at Rachel still sitting in Sanny’s lap. “Whose girlfriend is she really, Cay?” she says loud enough for us all to hear. “Compton’s? Novy’s? It’s sweet of them to loan her out to you so you don’t have to look pathetic in front of your ex. But really, honey, I got that message a long time ago!”

Rachel is still as stone in Sanny’s lap. Oh shit, it’s like the moment of calm before a lightning strike. I can just barely see the side of her face as she smiles. “What was your name again? Apple?”

“Aspen—”

“Yeah, whatever,” Doc says with a wave of her hand. “Look, sweetheart, this is just sad, okay? We all know you didn’t wiggle your way past the bouncer by offering him a handy just to come up here and reconnect with your old college flame.”

The blonde makes a face like she just smelled dog shit. “Bitch, you don’t know me!”

A few of the guys gasp.

“I do know you, Asphalt.”

Fuck, Doc is funny…and brutal.

“I’ve known girls like you all my life,” she goes on. “Caleb broke his knee, and you took him out with the trash. Well, lucky for him, hitting your curb is the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Because now he has me.”

Doc leans forward in Sanny’s lap, going in for the kill. “You had your chance with a great guy, and you blew it, Asteroid. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. You’re so far off his radar now, you may as well be lost in space. And don’t for one second think he’s going to waste his breath introducing you to any of the great guys sitting behind us either!”

“A-fucking-men,” says J-Lo, clinking his beer glass against Karlsson’s.

“Should we break this up?” Morrow says at my shoulder.

“Shh. It’s just getting good.” I wave him back, glancing over at the other guys. “Did any of you have to offer a handy to get up here?”

“No, but I’ll give a handy to the first guy who gets me out of here,” Sully mutters. “I’m beat, and this is just getting sad.”

“Control your girl, Cay,” the blonde shouts, her voice cracking. “She needs a muzzle and a leash!”

Fuck, the balls on Sanford must be ginormous right now. He keeps rubbing up on Doc, his hands roaming as he says, “That’s not a bad idea. You’d look good with a leash, Hurricane. Something with spikes.”

“Oh, daddy, don’t tease me,” Doc replies with a sultry smile.

“God, you’re both psychos,” the blonde shrieks. At long last, she stomps away, muttering curses as she goes.

“Bye, Avocado!” Rachel calls after her.

Our table explodes with laughter.

“Later, Alligator,” J-Lo shouts.

“Bye, Asteroid!” calls Sully.

“No bunnies allowed!”

Morrow taps my shoulder, and I slide out of the booth, still laughing.

Langers comes rushing over with Doc’s drink. “Hoooly shit. That was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen. That was like an Animal Planet shark attack, but with heels and hair flipping.”

“You destroyed her,” I tease.

“We bow to the master,” says Morrow, making a fake bow.

I elbow him, sloshing his beer. “It’s mistress, jackass.”

He elbows me back, and I bump into Sully.

“Hey, make me spill the rest of this beer, and you’re paying for my Uber,” he warns.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, I’m wiped.” He drains his glass and sets it down on the table. “We’ve got an early call time for the busses.”

I turn to Morrow. “You heading out too?”

He glances over toward the railing and back to me. He doesn’t need to say a word. He wants to go replace Poppy first. But he also didn’t miss my not-so-subtle diversion tactic from earlier. He doesn’t want me getting cozy with her any more than I want her cozy with him.

Shit, how the hell did we get here?

“Hey,” Rachel calls over to me, wedged between Sanford and a very territorial looking Compton. “Keep an eye on Poppy! Switch her to Shirley Temples at midnight!”

Fuck, is Poppy still down there draining cocktails like they’re water? Screw our alpha-posturing bullshit, Morrow and I need to go check on her, maybe get a cheeseburger in her. I look down over the railing, searching for her at the bar.

“Bust a move, Sanford,” Morrow calls from my side, waving the trio off.

“Yeah, have fun, Snuffy,” says Langley.

A few of the other guys laugh, watching as Doc Price hurries away with Compton, dragging Sanford behind her.

“Okay, a thousand bucks says we replace all three of them in a closet within the hour,” I say at Morrow.

“No bet.”

I squeeze his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get Poppy—”

Just then, one of the young rookies comes rushing up from behind us and tugs on Sully’s arm. “Hey, man. I think you need to come. DJ is lookin’ pretty bad.”

All three of us snap to attention. “DJ” is David Perry, one of our forwards.

“Where is he?” says Morrow.

“Out back in the alley, spilling his guts,” Westie replies. He looks glassy-eyed. Shit, he’s drunk as a skunk too. “I, uhh…he drank a lot of those Jax Rays things. Like, a lot.”

Sully groans, dragging a tired hand over his face. Heavy is the chest that wears the captain’s C. “I’m getting too fucking old for this shit.” He turns to Morrow. “Will you help me?”

Morrow gives me a long-suffering look before he nods. He’s too damn nice to turn down a direct ask from our captain. “Sure, yeah.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in. “Pay my tab?”

“It’s done,” I say with a solemn nod. “I have all the tabs,” I assure Sully too. “Just go get that asshole before any of the press get pictures of him sitting in his own vomit.”

I follow them toward the back corner where a set of utility stairs must lead down to the alley. I nearly run into Morrow as he grabs the railing, glaring down at the dance floor. “Holy shit.”

I peer down too, my gaze locking instantly on Poppy. The lights flash purple and blue, reflecting off the angles of her face and golden hair. The music thumps a heavy beat as she sways, her hips pressed up tight against the crotch of some blond dick in khakis. He’s got his hands all over her. She leans her head back against his shoulder, her eyes shut tight, lips parted, like she’s a few seconds away from coming.

My heart stops. “What the actual fucking fuck?”

Next to me, Morrow grips tight to the rail. “Will you please go take care of her?”

My eyes narrow on the dead man grinding behind her. “I got it.”

He grabs my arm as I turn away. “Hey—and by ‘take care of her,’ I mean get her safely back to the hotel.”

“What, did you think I was gonna dump her in the fucking Potomac? I said I’ll take care of her, Cole.” I give him a shove. “You go deal with your drunk teammate. I’ll deal with mine.”

With one last look, he storms off, following the urgent calls of Sully and West. They disappear into the utility stairwell, and I take off for the main stairs, ready to track down my PR director.