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Reed
There area lot of perks to being a professional hockey player. Hell, an athlete in general. Besides the money, the fame, the endorsements. The free shit that sports companies throw at you.
And one of those perks is currently perched on my lap, trailing her hot pink manicured finger up my chest.
Her name is Elizabeth. And honestly, I'm surprised I even remember her name because our entire interaction at Liam and Juliet's wedding lasted about fifteen minutes in a cramped bathroom stall and there was definitely no talking done. Or any talking during any of the times after that.
You see, I'm the kind of guy that enjoys the finer things in life…without all of the complications that people seem to add. Why make anything hard when it's already sweet? I'm twenty-eight and living my dream, playing hockey for one of the best teams in the country. I've got the most beautiful women at my fingertips, fans who adore me, and then I have my ma and my sister Emery. Nothing to hold me back andno oneto answer to. And that’s exactly how I want it.
Seriously, life isgood.
"Has anyone told you tonight that you are the most beautiful girl in the entire room?" I say to the busty blonde in my lap. Her plump, bright red lips stretch into a wide, confident grin. It’s not a lie, she is gorgeous. It’s just part of the game. You say what they want to hear, and everyone’s happy.
"That's because I'm theonlygirl in the room, Reed Davidson." She giggles before tossing her long, sleek hair over her tan shoulder that peeks out from her sleeveless dress.
I grin cheekily, revealing the dimple that always seals the deal. Just as I'm leaning in, Briggs, my best friend, walks up and flops down onto the couch next to us. I shoot him a look that says "get the fuck out of here, cockblocker," but Briggs being Briggs, doesn't pick up on the signal.
"Tonight sucks," he mutters. He's nursing a still full beer, and moping around the bar like he's lost his puppy dog.
Sighing heavily, I nudge blondie from my lap and thankfully, she takes the hint and scampers off back toward her group of friends, leaving me alone with Briggs.
"Alright, what's up? What are you cryin' in your beer about?"
His jaw clenches at my jab, but he just shakes his head, staring off into the distance. Best forward in the NHL or not, the guy is dramatic and broody as shit. I’ve just learned to live with it, and fuck with him any chance I get.
"Briggs."
"Just some shit."
Another blasé answer. A Briggs’s specialty.
I pull my phone from my pocket and swipe away the unopened texts from puck bunnies who text me weekly for a hookup, and instead, I go straight to my other best friend, Liam's text and open it. He's sent a photo of him, Juliet and the girls on the beach. The girls are posing next to a sandcastle as big as they are, and it brings a genuine smile to my face. Liam and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. We played hockey together, until he became the coach of the Avalanche last year. Now that he’s married to Juliet, he’s coaching high school hockey and I miss seeing him and the girls as much as I used to.
They've been in the Bahamas for over a week, while I'm stuck here babysitting Briggs. I can't wait for the girls to get home to tell me all about their vacation.
I love those two sassy girls. Being their uncle Reed is one of the best things in my life. But me as a dad? The last thing I could ever see myself as is a fatherora husband, or anything even close. As much as I love Ari and Ken... I love bringing them back to Liam at the end of the night, so I can go out with the boys, catch a game, enjoy the single unattached life.
I’m a perpetual bachelor, and that’sexactlyhow I plan to stay.
Which is why Broody Briggs, myself, Asher, Hudson and Graham are at a bar on a Tuesday night… because, why not? We’re all single, hot professional hockey players with no one to go home to, so why not spend it out on the town with a few beers? We all play together for the Chicago Avalanche, and it’s the best job on the damn planet.
When people say, “do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life,” it’s true. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I get to wake up and play hockey for a living, but at the same time, I busted my ass to be here. I worked from sun up to sun down to be the player I am today.
To celebrate another great practice, we decided to come out tonight for a night of bunnies and booze. Except, as of late, things have been… less exciting, since Briggs is walking the straight and narrow or he’s off the team. He’s been in more fights the past six months than I have in my entire hockey career.
So, to make sure that he stays out of trouble, that he doesn’t find himself in front of a pap’s camera, or worse, stuck in a jail cell for another night, I’m stuck babysitting until further notice.
Hockey player or hockey-player nanny? That is the real question.
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, thanks to Briggs’s sour mood. Asher, Hudson and Graham each found a puck bunny for the night and dipped out before midnight, leaving me and Briggs alone, so I decide to cut out as well.
“I’m headed out, you want a ride?” I ask Briggs, who’s rapid-fire typing on his phone.
He doesn’t answer me, so I punch him in the shoulder to get his attention.
“Fuck, what was that for?”
“Dude, you’re in abarand have been glued to your phone all night. I’m out, you need a ride?”
