Pucking Wild: A Reverse Age Gap Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 2)
Pucking Wild: Chapter 61

Tonight is going so well. I was a bit anxious at first, thinking this might be a lot of rubbing shoulders with land developers, but I shouldn’t have worried. Really, this just feels like one big fancy Rays party. The WAGs love an excuse to get dressed up, the alcohol is flowing, and everyone seems to be in good spirits. I’ve eaten my weight in appetizers, including, like, eight of those little cups of the lobster mac and cheese. Tess was right, it’s goddamn delicious.

Everyone showed up for Mars. And we’re all making generous donations. I’ve spent most of the last half hour laughing in the corner with Sully, Shelby, and Karlsson. Every so often, I let my gaze settle on Tess until she looks my way and I flash her a wink.

She’s radiant tonight. She’s working the room like a queen without a crown, floating from table to table, laughing and chatting it up. I smirk to myself, watching as she gets pulled away from Rachel and Poppy’s table, Nancy hurrying along at her side. She’s walking directly away from me. God, do I love this view. Her ass sways as her heels click, the fabric swishing.

In the rush of party set up, I may have pulled her into a coat closet…and she may have pushed me to my knees. I focus on the beer in my hand, remembering the feel of that soft fabric bunching around my face. Later tonight, I’ll be taking her out of that dress and leaving it on my floor.

I told my coaches about Troy and his threats this morning. Tess was anxious about it, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Coach Johnson had questions, but he was cool. We’ve got a PR strategy meeting planned with Poppy for tomorrow morning. For tonight, I don’t want Tess to worry, and I won’t either. We deserve a night of fun with our friends, a night to act like the couple we are where everyone can see.

“So…seems like you and Tess are finally official, then?” says Sully, following the direction of my gaze and flashing me a knowing smirk.

I tear my gaze away from her and smile. “Yep. That woman is it for me.”

“You work fast,” Karlsson says.

“Hey, when you know, you know,” I reply.

“And no running?” says Shelby.

“I’m fast,” I reply, taking a sip of my beer. “I can keep up.”

Sully laughs. “Well, she seems like a great girl to me. When you whacked her in the head with that soccer ball, did you ever think you’d end up here?”

“Did you really think you’d land a girl like Shelbs the first time you met her?” I tease.

“Hell no,” Sully replies as we all laugh. “These women are so far out of our league. I’m not questioning it, though. I’m like you, man. She says run, I fucking run.”

Shelby smiles up at him. “We like running together, don’t we, baby?”

“Yeah, we do,” he says, kissing her lips.

Karlsson and I shift awkwardly, flashing each other a shrug before the other two break apart.

“You look happy, Ryan,” Shelby says at me. “Really.”

“I am. I’m really fucking happy.”

“Well, this is dumb, then,” says Sully, looking around for a passing waiter. “We need to celebrate. Here—” He passes out fresh drinks to the four of us. “Cheers to Ryan and Tess,” he says, holding up his glass. “To running in the same direction.”

We all raise our glasses, and I grin like an idiot in love. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” says Shelby, clinking her glass with mine.

“Skål,” Karlsson intones, raising his glass too.

As I lower my glass, there’s a crashing sound behind us that makes us all jump. I turn sharply around to see that a waiter has accidentally bumped one of the standing tables, knocking it to the ground. His hands are full with a heavy tray, so I set my glass down and hurry over.

“Hey—hey, I got it, man,” I say, ducking down to right the table for him.

“Thanks,” he says, breathless. “Didn’t see it there.”

“You’re all doing great tonight,” I tell him. “Food and service are all really great. Good job.”

He just nods, hurrying away.

I duck down and pick up the little candle holder thingy that broke in three pieces with the crash. I set it and the flickering electric candle back on top of the little table.

“Ryan Langley?”

I turn around to see a man walking up to me, a smile on his face like we’re old friends. Shit, did I already meet him tonight and forget? He’s tall, about as tall as me. And he’s wearing an expensive looking blue suit with cognac leather belt and shoes. His dark hair is slicked back, dark eyes taking me in.

“Hey,” I say, holding out a hand. “Yeah, I’m Ryan.”

“Thought that was you,” he replies, taking the hand I offer him and shaking it. “I recognize you from the photos.”

“Photos?”

“Yeah…the Rays post you to their socials all the time,” he adds with a laugh, dropping my hand. “Your handsome face is everywhere. They even put you on a billboard. You can see it driving south from the airport.”

I force out a laugh too. “Oh…yeah, I heard about it, but I haven’t seen it.” With any luck, I won’t. No one needs to see that much of my face.

He slips his hands into his suit pockets, still smiling at me, his gaze taking in my suit before coming back to my face. “NHL star forward, Ryan Langley. You’re living the fucking dream, man. When are the Rays gonna wake up and lock you down in a no-trade contract?”

“Trust me, we’re working on it. But I leave the contract negotiations to my agent and just focus on the game.”

“I bet you do,” he says, his smile falling.

“What?”

“And endorsement deals too,” he goes on. “You must be making a pretty penny with those. Good to diversify your assets…while you can.”

“Yeah, I get by,” I reply, shifting on my feet as I look around for the quickest exit. I don’t like talking money with strangers. And this guy is giving me seriously smarmy investment broker vibes. He’s leaning in closer like he’s about to make me a sales pitch. Yeah, not happening. “Well, listen, it was great to meet you—”

“Whoa, hold on, there,” he says, stepping in closer, his hand going to my shoulder.

I immediately step back, breaking our connection. He’s got me in the corner of the room, my back to the wall. I look around, but everyone close has their backs turned so no one is looking this way. We’ve all perfected the art of the ‘mayday’ alert. Very useful with clingy bunnies and fans. One flash of it in my eyes at another Ray, and they’ll begin Operation Polite Extraction.

I’m not sure what this guy wants, but I’m ready to exit stage fucking left.

“I was actually hoping I’d run into you here,” he says, still boxing me in. “I have something I’d love for you to sign.” He slips his hand inside his suit coat, and I instinctively lean away. Then he pulls out a paper folded long ways. He holds it out to me with a flourish, like it’s the deed to a new car.

I look down to see my hand is already in the air, like it’s too damn polite to realize we’re trying to get out of this conversation. My fingers close around what is actually several papers, stapled in the corner. “You want me to sign this?” I say, looking down at the folded pages. I’m not picky. Fans give you all kinds of weird stuff to sign. I just want him to go away.

“Well, open it first. You should always read something before you sign it. That’s some legal advice I’ll give you for free.”

I glance up at him. “You’re a lawyer?”

He nods, his mouth curling into a smirk. “And you’ve just been served, asshole.”

I go still. “What?”

He takes a step closer, his voice lowering as he glares at me, his mask of fake civility dropping away. “Open the fucking document and read it, you ignorant piece of shit.”

“Fuck you. I’m not signing anything,” I say, trying to hand the papers back to him.

He laughs again. It’s a cold, hollow sound that sets my teeth on edge. “You don’t actually need to sign them,” he says. “The order is going into effect either way.”

“What order?” I say, my mind spinning.

“Open it and see,” he replies, a self-righteous smirk on his face.

I jerk open the pages, replaceing the first one, and look down, trying to make sense of the thick block of black text. It looks like a legal document of some kind. It’s got a set of tabs sticking out at the bottom, flagging all the lines that need signatures. But he’s right, someone has already signed it with blue ink. All the signature lines are signed. “What the fuck is this?”

“You tell me,” he jeers. “Any real man would be able to take care of his business. Look at the fucking document and read it, asshole.”

Panic lances my chest as I try to make sense of what I’m reading, but the font is impossibly small. I realize with a jolt that this was intentional. This smarmy lawyer guy took a normal document and purposefully shrunk the font. He wanted to come here and give this to me. He wanted to watch me struggle to read it. Why? Who would—

Oh, fuck.

The creeping feeling that’s been inching up my neck since this guy first walked up to me suddenly turns to ice. It shoots through my veins as I lower the papers, my gaze settling on the monster in front of me. I know exactly who he is. My hands shake as my pulse races.

“Troy.” I spit out his name like the foulest curse.

“In the flesh.” He holds out his hand again, as if he really expects me to shake it. “But I prefer the title ‘Tess’s husband.’”

“Fuck you.”

“Careful there, hotshot,” he teases, dropping his hand back to his side. “We wouldn’t want to make a scene now, would we? Lots of important people here tonight. Coaches and donors, city councilors, the press…”

I glance around, and he’s right. I’m not ten feet away from Head Coach Johnson and his wife. And we were all warned by Poppy, like, ten times that Press was here. They did a little TV spot earlier with Tess and Mars over by the turtles. My panic starts to build. We don’t have a plan yet. Nothing is set. I don’t know what I can say or how to make this go away.

“You make a scene now, it’ll make the front page,” says Troy. “You’ll ruin our Tessy’s big night…and your career…and your life.”

I’m not buying his bullshit, not with Coach’s reassurance that the Rays will take my side. “Get the fuck out of here, Troy.”

“Actually, I was invited,” he counters, oozing his self-righteous confidence all over me. “I have the invitation in my pocket if you don’t believe me. Wanna try reading that instead?”

It’s all I can do to keep my cool and not pound him into the floor. My hands shake as I hold up the papers. “What is this?” I say, shaking them in his face. “More empty fucking threats? More blackmail? It’s not gonna work. My coaches already know—”

“None of my threats are ever empty,” he replies, his fake smile falling.

“Do your worst,” I counter. “You’ve got nothing on us. It won’t be bad press when Tess and I explain the truth. And unlike you, I actually have credibility. My team believes me. Tess is gone, and she’s never coming back to you.”

“That’s good,” he replies, his voice lowering. “Practice saying it now. It will make it that much easier for you to accept later…you know, unless you like the idea of going to jail.”

My heart fucking stops. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I already told you.” He taps the papers in my hand. “Ryan Langley, you’ve been served. I’ll go ahead and leave this with you. It’s just a copy. The originals have been filed back in Cincinnati. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure my connection over at Jacksonville PD gets a copy too.”

No. This isn’t happening. I glance down at the papers again. This can’t be what I think it is. How did he pull this off? It has to be a bluff. I square my shoulders at him. “Drop the act and just make your threat, you fucking monster.”

He laughs at me. “I already did. You’re holding it. Maybe one of your teammates will show you a little mercy and help you sound out the letters. Or your sister. You’re putting her through grad school, right?”

I go still, rage coursing through my veins like lava. Not Cassie. How does he fucking know?

“Shame for her to lose everything, too, just because you’re a piece of trash that can’t replace himself a woman who isn’t already married,” he jabs.

I taste bile in my throat as I hold back from punching his fucking lights out. How is this possible? He knows about me—my life, my secrets, my family. I don’t know how he knows, but he does. Of course, he does. He’s part fucking demon.

“Troy, what did you do?”

“Ah-ah,” he teases, wagging a finger in the air. “It’s Tess’s husband, remember? And I can’t believe she’s wasting her time with a loser like you. Trust me when I say it won’t last.”

He’s spinning me up, just trying to get a rise out of me. Does he expect me to wail on him right here in the middle of the gala? Is he trying to pick a fight? I can’t fucking think with him up in my face like this.

“You need to leave,” I say again. It’s a demand and a prayer.

Please, God, just make him leave.

But he leans in closer, his dark eyes narrowing. “You think you can offer her a better life than what she has with me?”

“I know I can. I don’t fucking cheat on her. I don’t make her cry or treat her like trash.” My jaw tightens as I add, “And I don’t hurt her.”

“All you are is hockey,” he says, ignoring my accusations. “That’s all you have to offer the world. When that’s gone, you’ll be nothing. One more useless, dumb jock. They wouldn’t even hire you to work a donut counter. You’re fucking pathetic. And my Tess is going to see right through you in the end. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor with this,” he adds, pointing at the documents in my hand. “Consider your relationship over. If you want to keep playing hockey, if you want to keep supporting your family, be the one who walks away first.”

“Troy, what did you do?” I say again.

“Remember, I’ve got my eye on you,” he says, tapping his cheek. “I’ll love nothing more than to turn you over to the police. It’ll be hard to play hockey in a jail cell. Not impossible,” he adds with a grin. “But certainly harder. It’s such a shame, too, because I really liked that billboard.”

He claps me on the shoulder, and I fucking let him. I think I might be in shock.

“Great to meet you, Ryan. You know, your photos don’t do you justice. You’re much more handsome in person.”

This time I know he’s talking about the photos in the box in Tess’s closet. He’s seen them all, and I’m gonna be sick.

“Hey, and good luck against the Wild next week,” he says, dropping his hand away from me. “You know, if they let you start…and if you’re not in jail.”