Bishop Page 2

  I’d been with the Vipers for five of my ten years in the league. I was a valued member of the organization, at least by the fans. The ownership, not so much, since they willingly let me go knowing I’d be a top prospect. New York City had become my home, and five years is a long time to develop deep connections with some of your teammates. The only good thing was that Dax got picked up by the Vengeance as well, although that was a result of free agency.

  While the Arizona Vengeance may be a new team with no cohesiveness, we can at least lay claim to having the best arena in the league. The brand-new venue cost a whopping $375 million, with another $100 million shopping complex built around it named Vengeance Town. It’s completely state of the art and all shiny new.

  Although today is the first day of training camp, I was here yesterday for the grand tour of the complex as well as to get our team photos taken. Many arenas house the locker rooms and training facilities on the bottom floor. In contrast, the owners of this arena—some entertainment investment group—built an extra two floors on the top of the east and west sides of the building, all encased in glass and steel. As such, our workout room and family lounge area on the east side boasts phenomenal views of the Phoenix skyline, and the locker rooms on the west side are light and airy. I’ve been assured the glass is mirrored, so people can’t peep in with binoculars or cameras.

  I’m early for our first team meeting of training camp, so I take my time to wander the halls and look at the hockey memorabilia on the walls or housed in glass cases along the way. I see a few of the new guys, some I know and others I don’t. Chin lifts and fist bumps are the greetings for now. I assume I’ll develop bonds with many of these guys, and some I won’t. There are assholes on every team.

  Passing a few offices, I note the nameplates on the doors. Some of the Vengeance staff occupy these, and some are home to arena employees. There’s always some buffer between the players and the front office, but over time I’ll get to know many of them as well.

  I stroll past a set of offices, most with the doors closed, but the ones that are open I boldly look in. I’m mostly ignored, but others look up and give me a friendly smile.

  I come to one office where I get a flash of beautiful bare legs propped up on a credenza against the wall. The owner of said legs is shielded by a high-backed leather chair. She can’t see me, so I shamelessly ogle. Just as I’m almost past the opened doorway, the legs come down and the chair spins to face me.

  My entire body locks tight when I see Brooke staring right back at me on the other side of her desk. Her eyes are wide and blinking furiously with shock.

  Flashes of Brooke riding my cock last night and of me shoving my finger in her ass assault me so swiftly my cock starts to thicken in my pants. I want to reach down and rub a quick one off I’m so ridiculously horny.

  Like a fucking teenager.

  I would have thought after the hand job I’d just given myself in my shower not an hour ago would keep my dick slightly mollified, but when you’ve had the best one-night stand of your entire life ending less than twelve hours ago, apparently not.

  There’s no thinking.

  Only reacting.

  I step inside her office and shut the heavy wooden door behind me, noting that there’s no plaque like the others. I vaguely recall Brooke saying something last night about being a recent transplant here and that she worked in event planning.

  The smile that forms on my face is lecherous at worst, sexy at best. Fuck, I want to do her right here on this desk.

  Bent over the desk, more precisely.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” I say, my grin turning more wicked as I round her desk and come to a stop right by her chair. She shuffles her feet, which are in killer black pumps, as she swivels toward me. Her head tilts back and her mouth is slightly open as if she knows she needs to say something but can’t.

  Her eyes hold mine for just a moment before they slide down my body to rest right on my crotch, which is about face level with her. There’s no hiding the outline of my dick, which is getting even harder thinking about her blowing me right here.

  After I spread her out on her desk and hike that tight skirt up—

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice a mere whisper.

  Her eyes are back on mine now and her cheeks are slightly pink. She licks her lower lip and I can’t stop the groan that pops out.

  It’s like she’s a gift from heaven. My hand reaches out and curls around her neck, pulling her right up out of her chair. She’s completely compliant and her eyes get a little glassy as I lower my face into hers.

  “This is fucking fate,” I mutter just before I kiss her.

  She responds instantly, both of her hands gripping my shirt, her nails slightly scoring the material. My dick goes fully hard and I wrap an arm around her back to pull her into me.

  Brooke moans into my mouth, and how I ever thought this would be a one-night stand is beyond me. But when we parted and I left her house in the early morning hours, I didn’t ask for her phone number and she didn’t ask for mine. Maybe neither of us did because we were destined to find each other again.

  “Do you work here?” I ask her.

  “I’m the assistant director of team services,” she replies.

  Interesting, but not really. I kiss her again and her tongue slides so sweetly into my mouth.

  I pull back slightly and mutter against her mouth, “Please tell me your door has a lock on it, because if it does, I’m going to fuck you really hard and fast bent over that desk of yours.”

  Brooke moans but shakes her head, pulling back from me. Her face is flushed and her eyes are guarded with worry. “Seriously…what are you doing here, Bishop?”

  “I work here,” I tell her with a laugh. “Sort of. I’m with the Vengeance.”

  “With the Vengeance?” she gasps. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m one of the players.” I grin at her as I realize she’s the first woman I’ve fucked in my adult life that didn’t know I was a professional hockey player before we got carnal with each other.

  Brooke’s face pales and she groans, but this time it doesn’t sound sexy at all. Her forehead drops to my chest and her fingers flex into my shirt for a moment before they relax.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her as I bring my hands to her hips to give her a slight squeeze of reassurance, although I have no clue what I’m reassuring her of.

  She shakes her head, refusing to look at me. “I had no idea.”

  “Why would you?” I ask her gently. “Unless you were really, really into hockey, I guess.”

  Her head pops up and I really don’t like the look on her face. Her hands flatten on my chest and she tries to push me back. “You need to leave. Like right now. This was a big mistake.”

  “Whoa, what the fuck?” I growl at her, completely unwilling to accept that last night was a mistake when it was beyond incredible, and I’d just found her again and realized the real mistake was walking out of her house without getting her phone number.

  Or even her last name for that matter.

  My hand slides to her lower back, and I pull her into me so she can feel my cock. The pressure she’s putting on my chest relaxes a bit, but I sense she’s conflicted.

  Before she can decide what she really wants, the door to her office opens. Both our heads snap that way and Brooke gives a tiny gasp of distress.

  My jaw tightens over the intrusion, but my eyes widen in shock when I see Claude Perron standing there.

  The new head coach for the Vengeance.

  “Daddy,” Brooke says with what sounds like panic in her voice as she scrambles out of my embrace.

  I gape as my head snaps Brooke’s way, but I don’t even have time to focus on her. It’s moving back to her father, who has entered the office, slammed the door shut behind him, and is dem
anding of me, “What in the fuck are you doing with your hands on my daughter?”

  There’s no chance to respond.

  To defend Brooke’s honor.

  To come up with a really plausible lie.

  Or perhaps to defend myself if Claude Perron decides to use those meaty fists of his on me.

  “He’s my fiancé,” Brooke blurts out, and I’m so stunned I can’t even move. There’s no more snap in my neck. I can’t even take my eyes off her father and his look of disgusted shock over this news. I try not to cringe as Brooke steps back up to me, moving right in close to my body. She loops an arm around my back and gives a little shrug as if to say oops. “Surprise.”

  “Fiancé?” Coach Perron growls menacingly at his daughter and she stiffens, as if she’s afraid of him.

  That doesn’t set well with me, yet I’m too freaked out to even slip an arm back around Brooke with any type of gallantry.

  “Daddy,” Brooke says solicitously as she lets me go and holds her hands out in front of her to beg for his patience. “I know this is a shock and we wanted to tell you, but well…with everything going on and all, it just didn’t seem the right time.”

  I finally get some feeling back in my body and manage to stare down at her. She cranes her neck to peer up at me, and I see all kinds of begging and pleading within those whiskey-colored eyes.

  “This makes no sense.” Coach Perron has eyes only for his daughter, and they are deeply troubled indeed. His voice is no longer laced with fury but sounds oddly confused. “How could I not know this?”

  “We were trying to be sensitive,” Brooke offers.

  Sensitive to what, I have no clue.

  “When?” he continues with no more signs of aggression in his demeanor, and perhaps I imagined earlier that Brooke was afraid of him. “How? I mean…how do you even know each other?”

  “It’s a long story,” Brooke says placatingly.

  Not sure that was the right thing to say, but it definitely seemed to jolt her father somewhat. He looks down at his watch and his face reddens with what looks once again like good old anger. His eyes come to me and pin me in place. “We’ve got the team meeting to get to.”

  I don’t respond. Not sure my voice would even work if I tried.

  Claude turns to his daughter and says, “I expect both of you at my house at 6 P.M. for dinner tonight. And you two better be able to explain this shit.”

  I cringe internally and Brooke starts to wring her hands. Claude merely spins on his heel and marches out of her office, leaving the door wide open.

  “I am so sorry,” Brooke whispers, dragging out the o’s in the word so.

  My head turns slowly to stare at her, and I can feel my neck getting warm with righteous anger. “That’s your father? And why the fuck would you tell him we’re engaged?”

  “I’m sorry,” she says again, this time urgently. Her hand comes to my forearm. “It’s a lot to explain, but my dad is really protective of me, and we’re really close. I’m all he has after my mom died this past year, and well…I moved here to be with him because he hasn’t been taking her death all that well.”

  “But why lie to him?” I blurt out. “I mean…yeah, it was embarrassing he caught us like that, but we’re adults, Brooke. That was idiotic to tell him we’re engaged.”

  Brooke pulls her chin inward and looks at me with disbelief. “Did you not see the look on his face when he walked in here? He was furious.”

  I just stare at her. So the fuck what?

  “At you,” she says jabbing a finger into my chest. “I was helping you out.”

  “Helping me out?” I scoff.

  “Do you really want to start this season with a new coach hating your guts?” she asks. “And you have never played for my father before, but I’m sure you have heard all about his style. He’s a hard-ass. You add to that what I was trying to tell you about my mom dying, and he’s not been doing well, and it’s a recipe for disaster. He was going to make you suffer. It could even impact your standing on the team.”

  “So what?” I ask sarcastically, throwing my hands out to the side and dislodging her hand from me. “We’re just supposed to fucking get married or something?”

  To Brooke’s credit, she looks as horrified as I feel. “God, no.”

  “Then what?” I growl at her, completely frustrated my first day on the new job has turned into such a clusterfuck.

  She lets out a sigh and her shoulders sag. “Let’s just let it play out for a bit. In a few weeks, we can tell him the relationship died. I’ll take the full blame for it, of course. I’ll work something out that leaves you in good standing with my dad.”

  I scrub both hands through my hair, locking my fingers at the back of my head.

  “I don’t believe this shit,” I mutter as I stare at the ceiling so I don’t have to look at Brooke’s beautiful, pleading eyes just begging me to go along with this ruse.

  “Please,” Brooke murmurs. “Will you come to dinner tonight? Help me get him settled down, then we’ll start working right away on how to fix this?”

  My eyes drop and I glare at her for a moment. Finally, I give her all I can for right now. “I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”

  Then I walk out of her office and head to the team meeting.

  Chapter 3

  Bishop

  When I hit the team meeting room it’s about half full. I’d been impressed with the auditorium yesterday during the tour, the stadium-style seating being far more plush than I’ve ever seen. Big leather chairs with retractable desktops in the left arms make sure that our meetings are held in style and comfort. While our roster sits at twenty-four with fourteen forwards, seven defensemen, and three goalies, the room can hold easily twice that number.

  I spot Dax in the third row on the opposite side and make my way to him.

  “What’s up?” he says, offering his fist to me.

  I slap at it distractedly as I sit down to his right. “Not much.”

  Other than apparently I’m now engaged to the coach’s daughter.

  Grimacing, I slouch down in my chair and watch as other players file in. Dax lifts his hand when he sees Legend Bay enter. He played with us for one season on the Vipers before being snapped up by the Florida Spartans when he became a free agent. He’s a lot like me in that the Spartans hated to lose him but wanted to free up some money for the draft, so he didn’t get protected either.

  He plops down on my right and we shake hands, and then he leans across me slightly to do the same with Dax as he says, “What’s up, Monahan?”

  “My dick when your sister walks in the room,” Dax says back blandly.

  Legend snickers, but I don’t react. Talk about dicks getting up makes me think of Brooke, and well…I’m furious with her. I don’t want my dick affected by her at all.

  Dax and Legend talk over me, and chatter fills the air as players reconnect and new introductions are made. Every time someone new walks into the room, my gut clenches until I see it’s not our coach and my newly minted future father-in-law.

  “Fuck,” I mutter in frustration.

  “What’s up?” Dax asks quietly as he leans into me.

  I shake my head. “Later,” is all I say, because while I will indeed tell Dax about the insanity of my morning, now is not the time.

  Erik Dalhbeck joins our little group. We’ve never played with the dude, but have connected over the years when we visited his team in Los Angeles. He’s an extraordinary offensive-minded defenseman who’s just as natural leading the puck up ice as he is slamming someone into the boards. His free agency put him here in Phoenix with us. We like to hang out with him in LA because the dude is a partying playboy from hell who knows all the best places to go and has many, many hot actress friends who are available for the hookup.

  The conversation in the room
dies almost immediately, and Dax, Legend, Erik, and I all turn our heads to the door. I think it’s Coach, but I see even someone more polarizing has walked in.

  Tacker Hall, notably the most talented player in the league as well as the most tragically inclined. This is his first full season back since taking several months off last year after losing his fiancée in a plane crash. The tragedy is not just in losing the love of his life two weeks before they were going to marry, but in the fact that he was piloting the small craft. From what I remember about the details, he was cleared of any wrongdoing, but the word is that he’s carrying tons of guilt on his shoulders and it’s, well, changed him. I know the guy only slightly, having talked to him at a few awards shows and such. This was all pre-crash, and he was a nice guy, although somewhat of an introvert. Now I’ve heard he’s an asshole too, but I’ll make up my own mind on that.

  Tacker walks down the front row, eyes glued to his feet, and takes the very last chair on the far end of the room. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, slouches his shoulders inward, and practically puts a sign up around himself that says LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

  The noise starts back up as people engage in conversation again, but immediately quiets down as the coaching, equipment, and training staff file in. Heading up the rear is Coach Perron.

  The man is huge and used to play in the league a few decades ago. He was a bruiser and although the guy has to be in his midfifties, he looks to be in excellent physical shape. I’m glad I didn’t have to tangle with him earlier, because that would just be totally awkward.

  Our new general manager, Christian Rutherford, saunters up to the podium and makes some short opening remarks. While our new team and coaching staff is pretty decent given we’re an expansion team, I think this organization really lucked out with our new GM. He’s young, smart, and thinks outside the box. Reminds me a lot of the Cold Fury’s general manager, who quickly took them to back-to-back championships with her controversial yet clearly effective strategy of team building based on statistical algorithms.