The Stick Handler Read online

  The Stick Handler

  Cathryn Fox

  Contents

  Copyright

  1. Luke

  2. Katee

  3. Luke

  4. Katee

  5. Luke

  6. Katee

  7. Luke

  8. Katee

  9. Luke

  10. Katee

  11. Luke

  12. Katee

  13. Luke

  14. Katee

  15. Luke

  16. Katee

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  The Body Checker

  Single Dad Next Door

  About Cathryn

  Also by Cathryn Fox

  Copyright

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  * * *

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN Print: 978-1-928056-95-9

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-928056-96-6

  1

  Luke

  “It’s over, Arianna.”

  “Over?” she spits out, her eyes venomous as they hold my stare. “Oh, we’re far from over, Luke.” As I square off against Arianna in her waterfront suite, the moonlight shimmering on Seattle’s Elliot Bay below, she points a finger at me, then wags it back and forth between the two of us. “In fact, you and me, we’re just beginning.” With that, she gives a defiant lift of her chin and flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder, a dismissive gesture that I’ve grown accustomed to over the last six months. “Now go home, get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you at the altar tomorrow afternoon.” She offers me her back and picks up her champagne glass, shutting me out, and this conversation down.

  I glance at my watch, take in the late hour. Yeah, okay, putting the brakes on our relationship the night before our wedding is a dick move on my part, but isn’t it better to make a clean break now, before we find ourselves old and miserable and totally hating each other? Come to think of it, do we even like each other now?

  “Ari—”

  She spins to face me. “Do you need a Midol, or something?”

  For fuck’s sake. “No, I don’t need a goddamn Midol.”

  “Then stop acting like you’re PMS’ing!” she shouts back.

  I shake my head. She might be a girl used to getting what she wants, but after overhearing her tell her friend she doesn’t love me, and revealing a few other facts that surprised the shit out of me, she can’t expect me to show up for the ceremony tomorrow. You’d think I’d be furious to find out her true feelings, right? But the funny thing is, I’m not really angry or upset at all, which says lot about the state of our relationship. I guess I’m grateful that I walked into the room during her private conversation. It snapped me the fuck out of the damn trance I’d been in for the last few months.

  “You and I both know this is a mistake,” I say.

  “A mistake?” she seethes. “How can you say that?” She finishes the champagne in her glass and struts to her kitchen to refill it. I pace her living room, glance out the floor-to-ceiling window. My gaze goes to the spectacular view of the waterfront ferris wheel at Pier 57, with the Washington state ferry in the background. Too bad I can’t quite seem to enjoy the Seattle Great Wheel, beautifully lit up this time of night. The tapping of Ari’s shoes reaches my ears as she comes back into the room.

  “Why are you still here?” she asks.

  “Because this conversation isn’t over.” I spin and point to the cellphone that never leaves her hand. “You just told your best friend that love isn’t important in a marriage.”

  She glares at me for a long moment, the anger leaving her baby blues as dark lashes fall slowly, only to flicker back open over come-hither eyes. “Luke, honey, you know I love you. What I said, it’s just that Kari is just jealous of our relationship and I was being flippant. You know, to ease her pain, because she’ll never have what we have, baby.”

  “What exactly do we have?” It’s a question I’d been asking myself all day, long before I ever learned Ari valued money over love.

  She sets her glass down and sidles up to me, rubbing her lithe body against mine, another little ploy she uses when things aren’t going her way. “Together we can have it all. Remember that first weekend we spent in Boston?”

  Boston? Oh yeah, I remember Boston. Remember opening the door to my hotel room after our game, and finding a naked Ari on my bed. I thought I was concussing. That maybe I’d taken one too many hits to the head earlier that night. Either that, or she’d stumbled into the wrong room. I was a rookie, and a girl like Ari, well, she could have any guy on the team—one with much more power and play than me. But no, she assured me it was the Stick Handler she was looking for—my on-ice nickname.

  I wasn’t sure why she’d set her sights on me, and before I knew it, a few months had passed and she was planning an elaborate Valentine’s Day wedding. I’m not even sure I ever asked her to marry me. But the next thing I knew we were picking out a ring, and tasting pound cake with buttery icing.

  I scrub the back of my neck, work out the knots. “Ari—”

  Her hands go to my face, and she presses her lips to mine. “Our wedding is tomorrow Luke. Now is not the time to be getting cold feet.”

  “It’s not cold feet. I just heard you tell your friend I would make a suitable husband because I could keep you in the lifestyle you’re accustomed to.” Hell, maybe she picked me because, as the daughter of the man who owns the Seattle Shooters, she had insider information, knew I was about to land a significant contract and become one of the highest paid guys in the NHL. She sure as hell didn’t pick me out of love.

  I shake my head, hating that I let things get so out of hand, that I let her lead me like a lamb to the slaughter. I’m a grown fucking man who can make his own decisions, so why the hell did I just go along with her, cave to everything she wanted? Oh, maybe because it was easier to be with Ari, and go with the flow—keep my mind off the one girl I’ve always loved, the girl who’d grown up next door to me, and who keeps me in the friend zone.

  But now, I just can’t bring myself to go through with this marriage. We both know we’re not in love, and we’d be making a big mistake if we exchanged vows tomorrow. I remove her arms from my neck and place them at her sides. Her fingers grip her phone tighter, and her mood darkens.

  I exhale slowly. “Why don’t you call your friends. Have them come stay the night.” I might not love her, but I care about her. And even though she just admitted she didn’t love me, that months ago her father threatened to cut up her credit cards if she didn’t settle herself into a career, I’m still a decent human being who doesn’t w
ant to see anyone upset.

  “You can’t do this to me,” she says, her voice bordering on hysterical.

  “Please, Ari.” I put my hand on her arm, give it a reassuring squeeze. “You know in your heart this isn’t right. You’ll find the perfect guy for you in time.” Although with her father threatening to cut up her credit cards, time is not on her side. I guess that’s why she latched on to me so quick. She was desperate for a rich daddy figure who would help her keep the socialite lifestyle she’s grown accustomed to, and never make her work for anything she wants. It’s a role I can no longer go along with.

  She steps away, and her high heels wobble slightly as she paces to her window. With her back to me, she says, “You’re making a big mistake.”

  There is a calculated coldness in her tone that raises the hair on my arms. “I’m sorry, Ari. I never meant to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” she shrieks. “You’re the one who’s going to be hurt, Luke.” She spins, and her eyes narrow in on me. Jesus, if looks could kill. “If you do this, I’ll make sure you never play hockey for the Shooters again.”

  My heart jumps into my throat. Does she have the power to do that? Yeah, she’s the owner’s daughter, but can she pull his strings, too? Fuck, maybe she can. She sure as hell pulled mine for the last few months.

  “If you don’t want me to destroy you and your reputation, I suggest you accept what I’m about to offer.” She folds her arms, and the pale blue dress she’s wearing climbs up her thighs. Since I’m a guy who loves a nice pair of legs, maybe she’s doing it on purpose, to lure me with sex like she did that first night in Boston. I fell for it once, and look where that led me. Then again, is the fault entirely hers? I went along with it, which means half the responsibility is mine. “Are you listening to me, Luke?”

  I brace myself, almost afraid to hear her offer. “I’m listening.”

  “Good. Take a week. Go, get your head on right.”

  “Jesus, Ari, my head is on right.”

  “No, it’s not, otherwise you wouldn’t be putting your career on the line like this. I can destroy you, Luke.” She snaps her fingers for effect. “Like this!”

  Who the hell is this woman? For the last six months, she’d been nothing but charming. Then again, I’d given her everything she wanted, until now. Even before I heard her say those things to her friend, I knew I couldn’t go through with it, not when my heart belongs to another—despite the fact that I can never have her. Christ, what kind of fucked up mess have I gotten myself in to?

  “Why would you want to do destroy me, Ari?”

  She stands a little straighter. “Because no one embarrasses Arianna Moore. No one.”

  “Fine, we’ll tell everyone it was your idea. That you broke things off.”

  “What we’ll do is tell everyone I needed time to think. In the meantime, you have one week. One week to think about this mistake you’re making, the future that will be ripped right out from underneath you if you don’t do the right thing.”

  I’m not a violent man. Jonah, aka the Body Checker, takes care of anyone who gets in the way of my stick-handling skills, but suddenly my fingers are curling, the urge to put my fist though her wall pulling at me hard. I grew up with nothing, and spent my whole life working my fucking ass off, practicing every goddamn night, until I was good enough to be scouted at the Junior A level. My scholarship to Arizona State gave me a top-notch education and I made a name for myself in the rink. No fucking way am I about to let her destroy my reputation and take that all away from me, simply because she wants to save face. We’re not right for each other and we both know it.

  “One week,” she says again. “Use our honeymoon tickets and get away for a bit, to think this over, and you tell no one what’s really going on. No one. Not even that tomboy you hang around with, otherwise....” Her words fall off as she snaps her fingers again.

  “Her name is Katee, and she’s not a tomboy.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Whatever. Do we have a deal?”

  I’m about to argue, but stop to think about that for a moment. Maybe a week away will do her good. Giver her clarity and help her see the mistake we’d be making if we went through with this.

  “Fine,” I say. “One week. Then we’ll talk.”

  A small, triumphant smile tweaks the corners of her lips. She obviously thinks she won the battle. I can only hope that after seven days, she comes to the same conclusion that I have. Still grinning at me, she slides her fingers across her phone, and puts it to her ear.

  “Kari, I’ve been thinking.” A big sigh, followed by a long pause for effect, then she continues with, “I’m not so sure about tomorrow.” I stand there, taking in her expert performance as she tells Kari she might need more time before she walks down the aisle with me. Her best friend Kari is a blogger and a socialite. In all of five minutes, I expect the entire world to know that my fiancée has decided to postpone the wedding.

  I leave her luxurious penthouse apartment, a headache brewing as I dig my phone out to call my folks and the guys who were standing up for me. I make the calls as I wait for the elevator, and oddly enough, no one seems surprised. My folks almost seem happy about it. I’m not sure they were ever big fans of Ari’s anyway. The elevator arrives, and I step on and make my way to the garage. I have one last call to make, the most important call, but I’ll do that from the privacy of my car. As soon as I step off, my phone pings. Dammit. I am not in the mood to answer any more questions tonight. I pull the phone from my pocket, about to power it down when I see who the text is from. My heart pounds a little faster, and no matter how much of a shit mood I’m in, Katee’s texts always brighten my day.

  I just heard the news, where are you?

  2

  Katee

  I hold my phone in my hand, my heart racing as I wait for Luke to reply. What the hell was Ari thinking, postponing the wedding at the eleventh hour because she was having second thoughts for reasons she doesn’t want disclosed to the public. I wasn’t too crazy about my best friend’s fiancée before tonight and now, I hate her just a little bit more.

  I rush around my apartment looking for my damn car keys. I don’t care if it’s late, Luke needs me, and no matter what, I’ll always be there for him. Ever since he punched that bully on the playground and stood up for me, we’ve been the best of friends. I can’t even imagine how devastated he must be. The news is all over Kari’s blog, and because Ari is being so secretive, I’m sure half of Seattle suspects Luke was unfaithful. Every single player on the team has a reputation with the ladies. But I know Luke. I know he’s a one-woman kind of guy and isn’t a player off the ice, like the rest of his teammates. This must be so mortifying for him. As my heart aches for my best friend, my phone finally pings.

  I’m on my way home. You don’t need to come over.

  I read his text, and my fingers fly over my phone. Like hell. I’m on my way now.

  I find my keys at the bottom of my gym bag, and rush out the door. Since I have no time—or the patience—to wait for the slow-ass elevator to arrive, I take the stairs three at a time, and nearly tumble down the last flight when my foot goes out from beneath me. Damn slippery floors! Rain falls heavily as I push through the lobby door, soaking me to my skin as I race for my car. I climb inside and turn on the heat. Dammit, in my hurry, I forgot to grab my coat. I’ve only been in Seattle for a year, moving here to be closer to my best friend after he signed a contract with the Shooters, and I’m still not used to the weather. I jack the heat higher and back out into the street. Ten minutes later, I pull in to Luke’s spare parking spot outside his apartment building.

  I jump from the car and hurry inside the building. I press his button and he buzzes me up. I take his elevator to the penthouse suite and his door is open, welcoming me. For some reason, that always brings a smile to my face. It falls quickly when I remember why I’m here.

  “Luke,” I say and enter his place to find him standing by his window, a beer bottle dangling fr
om his fingers.

  “Hey,” he says and taps his bottle against his leg. Worried eyes rake over me, take in my drenched, see-through blouse. “You’re soaked.”

  “Way to state the obvious.” I pull my wet shirt from my skin and as it makes a sucking noise, I shiver from the cold. “What the hell happened?”

  “You read Kari’s blog, I take it.”

  I nod. “Why does she need time to think about things? You’re the best thing that has ever happened to that girl. Why is she getting cold feet now?”

  He opens his mouth like he wants to tell me something, but shuts it again. What the hell? What is it he doesn’t want to say? We’ve always been honest with each other. “What?” I ask.

  He produces two e-tickets from his back pocket. “Want to go on my honeymoon with me?” He laughs, but it holds no humor. The poor guy is really hurting. I glance at the tickets as he tosses them onto his coffee table.

  He’s joking about me going, I know, but maybe getting away from here, from the rumors that are sure to spread, will do him good. As the cold rain seeps under my skin and chills me to the bones, I bend to read the e-tickets.

  “You need to get out of those clothes.” His voice sounds tortured and once again my heart goes out to him.

  “You’re right.” I pop the buttons on my blouse. “I was in such a hurry, I forgot my coat, and my umbrella broke in the last wind storm.” Then again, I’m used to being wet since I moved to Seattle from Texas. I peel my blouse from my shoulders, and reach for the button on my jeans.