Nothing But Trouble Part 9

She moved to the bucket and grabbed another beer. "If your brain is numb it's more than likely the Vicodin."

Sam laughed. He loved s.h.i.+t talk, no matter who was talking it. "He's getting old. His memory isn't great."

"His memory is convenient." She twisted the top and held the beer toward Sam.

"Thanks, Short Boss."

She pulled the bottle back before he could grab it. "Did you just call me Short Boss or Short Bus?"

"Boss." She shoved the beer toward him and he took it from her. "What are you doing later?"

"Are you hitting on my a.s.sistant?" Mark asked before she could respond. He didn't like the idea of any of the guys. .h.i.tting on Chelsea. Not because he had any interest in her, but because he was doing his best to discourage her from sticking around. If the guys liked her, she'd never leave.

"I've never known a scream queen." Sam grinned and took a drink of his beer. Mark knew for a fact that Chelsea wasn't Sam's type. Sam liked tall, leggy women with big lips. Like Angelina Jolie. His preference was so well-known that everyone razzed him about dating Octomom.

"I'm going to church with my sister," she said, her blue eyes s.h.i.+ning with humor. "You're welcome to come along."

"I'll pa.s.s."

Vlad and Andre walked through the door from outside, oblivious of Chelsea. "If you go to ze strip clubz," the big Russian was schooling the rookie, "ze Luztee Lady is a good one. Ze best."

"The l.u.s.ty Lady is a dive," Andre said. "I prefer the clubs in Canada. Cheetahs in Kelowna has totally nude dancing and the girls are hot. If you go, get a lap dance from Cinnamon. I don't think that's her real name, but she has better-"

"You guys haven't met my a.s.sistant," Mark interrupted before the two got into a debate over which nudie bar gave the best lap dances. Although everyone knew that it wasn't Cheetahs. It was Scores in Las Vegas.

"Hey guys." She looked up and smiled. "You must be Vlad."

Vlad wasn't unattractive. Just severe-looking. Women had been known to run in the other direction. Especially if he dropped his pants and showed them the impaler. Although to be fair, he didn't do that much anymore.

Without moving his head, Vlad glanced at Mark before returning his gaze to Chelsea. "Yez."

"Mr. Bressler mentioned that you weren't drinking today." She dug down in the ice and pulled out a bottle of Evian. She moved toward him and gazed up into his face. "So I brought you water."

"Thanz."

"You're welcome." She turned to Andre. "Can I get you a beer?"

Andre wasn't tall like Vlad or the rest of the players, but he was ma.s.sive and had a low center of gravity, like a cement pylon. Which came in handy when he needed to knock an opposing player off the puck or duke it out. "Ah-yeah. I guess."

Mark didn't know if the rookie enforcer was stunned or embarra.s.sed. Probably both. For the past year or so, there'd never been a female in the house when the boys had gathered. They weren't used to putting their best manners forward while they drank beer at Mark's house.

"I watched you guys play the other night." Chelsea moved to the bucket. "I'd never been to a hockey game before, and I know absolutely nothing about it, but you guys did great."

"Yeah," Mark said dryly. "They won the cup."

She leaned forward a little, and her skirt slid up the backs of her smooth legs. She had the kind of legs he liked on a woman. If she was standing in front of him naked, with her knees touching, there was just enough room to slip his hand between her thighs.

She stood up straight and moved toward Andre, holding a beer. "Why did you hit that guy in the head the other night?"

"When?"

"Second period."

Andre's black brows lowered. "He had the puck," he answered, as if that explained it all. And it did. She gave him the beer, and he said, "Thanks."

Little Miss Suns.h.i.+ne smiled at the rookie. "You're welcome. Does your chin hurt?"

He shook his head and returned her smile. "It was just a little love tap."

She looked at Vlad and pointed to her own brow. "Is that a love tap?"

"Nah. Hurtz like h.e.l.l."

She laughed, and it occurred to Mark that she not only wasn't running like h.e.l.l, she wasn't the least bit intimidated by any of the other six big hockey players in the room. She grabbed a bottle of water and moved toward him. "Holler if you need anything," she said, and handed him a bottle of Evian. He reached for it but she didn't let go. His fingers brushed her hand and he almost pulled back. "My number is programmed into your cell. So you don't have to come and find me."

"What's my ringtone?"

She smiled and let go of the water. "Any of you guys need anything else?" she asked instead of answering his question.

"Maybe nachos," Andre answered.

She turned to the enforcer, her back facing Mark. "I don't cook."

"But you're a girl."

Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

"That doesn't mean I was born with a burning desire to brown meat and grate cheese."

He hit redial on his phone, and Chelsea's Black-Berry lit up a split second before the line about "messing with a son of a b.i.t.c.h" played from the vicinity of her waist. She reached for the cell, pushed a few b.u.t.tons, then turned toward him.

He raised a brow and she explained, "I thought I'd just stick with the Guess Who. Kind of a ringtone theme."

Sam laughed.

"Have fun guys," she said, and practically ran out of the room and down the long hall.

The boys watched her go, and the room fell into silence. Of course Sam was the one to break it.

"She's cute."

Mark watched the white stripes on her skirt disappear from sight. Sure she was an attractive girl, but they didn't know the real Chelsea.

"I like ze short womenz."

"You like any womenz."

Vlad shrugged his big Russian shoulders and pointed toward the doorway. "And bringz the beer too."

"d.a.m.n. I need myself an a.s.sistant." Sam raised his Corona to his lips and took a long drink. "Better than a wife. Less trouble than a girlfriend."

Mark shook his head. "You just saw her good side. She's pushy and annoying. She's a mini pit bull." He pointed his stiff middle finger at them. "Just like her twin sister. Remember that."

At the thought of Bo Ross they all winced, except Andre. "I've always thought Mini Pit was cute. Kind of feisty."

"I like ze feizty womenz."

They room fell quiet for several moments. The guys all looked at one another as if they were waiting for something. Then Walker leaned forward and placed his forearms on his thighs. "Listen, Mark. We all need to know something." He dangled the Corona from one hand and got to the real reason they'd all shown up on his doorstep. "Where were you the other night?" He turned his head and looked at Mark. "We thought you'd be there."

He didn't have to elaborate. Mark knew what night he meant.

"We all talked about it beforehand. If we won, Savage was going to immediately hand the cup to you because you were our captain long before him. He did a h.e.l.l of a job filling your shoes after the accident. He was great and all the guys like and respect him, but he isn't you. He could never be you, and to his credit, he never tried." Walker looked at the other men in the room. He was the alternate captain. The second in charge when the captain wasn't around. He was a good man and a leader, and there was a reason he wore the A on his jersey. "Playing without you wasn't easy on anyone. We were worried about you, trying to get used to Savage, and battling for the cup. You were on this team for eight years. You built it and you led us to the playoffs. We didn't win the cup because we had Savage. He's a d.a.m.n good hockey player and we were lucky to get him. We won because of the hard work we all put into it. The hard work that you put into it, and you should have been there the night we won. Why weren't you?"

They needed an answer, and he supposed he could lie and they'd all go home happy. But they deserved better, and he'd always told them the truth. "I have really mixed feelings about that night," he said, and unscrewed the top to his Evian. "I could lie to you all, but I won't. I'm glad you guys won. Beyond happy for every one of you. You deserve it, and I mean that to my core." He placed his right hand against his chest. "But at the same time, I am p.i.s.sed that I couldn't win the cup with you. I am p.i.s.sed that it was Savage and not me. I could have gone that night and pretended it didn't matter. That everything was suns.h.i.+ne and rainbows, but you all would have seen through the bulls.h.i.+t."

He took a drink of water, then screwed the cap back on. "My whole life, that's the only dream I've ever had. The one thing I've ever really wanted, but a freak accident took it from me." He dropped his hand to his side. "Everyone tells me that I should just feel grateful to be alive. Well, I don't. I don't feel much of anything at all. Just anger." A burning ball of anger that he didn't know how to get rid of. "I'm sorry. I'm a selfish d.i.c.k. I'm sorry if I let you down. You're right. I should have been there with you guys, but I just couldn't."

"Thanks for being honest." Walker sat back. "I can't say that I understand, though. More than anyone in this room, you deserved to be the first man to hold the cup. The fact that you didn't play in the playoffs doesn't change that."

Sam agreed. "That's right."

Mark looked across at Sam. "Just because I wasn't there, doesn't mean I didn't see the game. I watched right here." He pointed to the couch. "And that penalty you drew in the second frame was stupid and could have cost the game. And instead of partying and pouring beer from the cup onto women in bikinis, you'd be bawling your eyes out like a girl."

"Savage was thrown in the box too."

"Savage was. .h.i.t from behind. You weren't. When are you going to get it into your head that you're not an enforcer? That's Andre's job."

Sam grinned.

Daniel chuckled.

Vlad rocked back on his heels and smiled.

"What?" Mark asked. "What's so d.a.m.n funny?"

"You sound like your old self," Walker answered.

He would never be his old self. If he ever forgot it, the ache in his hip and thigh was a constant reminder.

"You should talk to someone about the coaching job," Daniel suggested. "At the press conference the other day, Darby said there would always be a place for you in the Chinooks' organization."

"I think he was blowing smoke." The thought of driving to work at the Key Arena turned and twisted the burning anger in his gut.

"I don't believe that," Walker said. "You should think about it."

They'd come here today for an answer. But they'd also come because they wanted him to be okay. He could see it in their eyes. Because they seemed to want to believe it so badly, he opened his mouth and lied. "I'll think about it."

NINE.

"I know what you need?"

He looked into her small face, half covered in shadows. "What?"

She ran her small hands up his bare chest and rose onto the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. "This." She kissed the side of his neck. The hot, moist pull of her mouth on his skin slammed into his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. "You need this." Her warm breath brushed across his throat, and he shuddered. His whole body was alive, every cell and pleasure receptor sensitive to her satin touch.

"Yes." He raised his hands and tangled his fingers in her blond and red hair. He brought her head back and gazed into her l.u.s.t-heavy blue eyes as he lowered his mouth. Down to her sweet, wet lips. She tasted good, like the pleasure he'd been missing in his life. Like s.e.x. Like hot, hungry s.e.x. The kind that ripped a man apart. The kind that left him battered and b.l.o.o.d.y and willing to die for more.

Her tongue slid into his mouth, slick and wanting. He fed from her long, hungry kisses as her hands slid over his body. Her fingers combed through the short hair on his chest. Touching him and leaving little trails of fire across his flesh.

He raised his head, gasping, and looked into her face, at her lips, pouty and wet, and her eyes, s.h.i.+ning with desire. She stepped back and pulled her dress over her head. Except for a pair of white panties, she was naked beneath. He didn't bother to check his response. To go easy. He went to that wild primal place beating in his chest and groin and he pushed her down onto the chaise. Her panties disappeared along with his clothes, and he lay down on her soft, warm body.

"Yes," she whispered as he pulled back and drove into her. Her back arched and she smiled. "This is what you need."

Mark's eyes flew open and he stared up at his dark ceiling. The black blades of his fan disturbed the air and pushed it across his face. His heart pounded in his chest and his groin ached. Desire, both sharp and dull, pulled at his t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es and he slid his hands beneath the sheets just to make sure he wasn't dreaming that part too. He laid his palm across his boxers and on top of an impressive hard-on. He sucked in a breath through his teeth at both the pleasure and the pain. His erection heated the cotton of his underwear and warmed his palm and he curled his fingers around the long, hard length of it. Because of an erotic dream about his little a.s.sistant, he was as hard as a steel club. He didn't know whether to be alarmed, or to be horrified, or to fall to his knees on the side of the bed and praise Jesus.

Chelsea cracked open her eyes and winced as the morning light stabbed her corneas. Pain squeezed her forehead, and her mouth felt like she'd eaten socks. She stared into her sister's face on the pillow next to hers, just like when they'd been kids. Had something happened? Where had they been the night before?

"Oh G.o.d," she groaned. Karaoke at Ozzie's Road-house flashed before her scratchy eyes, an excruciating memory of her and Bo belting out "Like a Virgin" and "I'm Too s.e.xy" at the tops of their lungs. There was only one person on the planet with a worse voice than Chelsea. Bo. Bo was worse, and Chelsea was shocked the crowd at Ozzie's hadn't tossed them outside.

She sat up and waited for the pounding in her head to dull before she swung her feet over the side of the bed. With her eyes half closed, she wandered down the hall and into the bathroom. The vinyl floor felt cool beneath her feet, and she stuck her mouth under the faucet and turned on the cold water. She drank like a camel, then rose to look at herself in the mirror. Black smudges circled her eyes and her hair stuck out on one side. She looked as good as she felt and reached for the Tylenol. She downed three Caplets and wandered back toward the bedroom.

"Good morning, suns.h.i.+ne."

Chelsea stopped and peered down the hall at the half-naked man standing in the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"Eating breakfast," Jules answered as he poured milk over a bowl of cereal.

"Why are you eating breakfast here?"

"I'm not surprised you don't remember. Bo called me last night and I met the two of you. I was the only one in any condition to drive."

Chelsea retraced her steps, grabbed a terry-cloth robe from the back of the bathroom door, and continued toward the kitchen. Tiny bits and pieces were starting to come back to her. "Why are you still here?" she asked as she tied the fluffy belt around her waist.

"Since I live in Kent, and it was after two in the morning, you and your sister told me to crash in Bo's room." He reached into a drawer and grabbed a spoon.

It was too bad she was hungover and her eyes hurt because she really couldn't fully appreciate Jules's developed chest or each muscle of his six-pack. She pointed to his tight leather pants. "Are you trying to be Tom Jones or Slash?"

"We talked about this last night when you accused me of having a metros.e.xual meltdown." He took a bite. "But again, I'm not surprised you don't remember. You were totally wrecked."

"I remember." Unfortunately, more than just bits and pieces of the night was starting to come back. The singing. The drinking. The flirting with college boys and tourists.

Jules pointed his spoon at her. "You look like s.h.i.+t."