Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance, Jami Davenport [best reads txt] 📗

U who were outstanding hockey players. My dad had one of the longest careers and probably won the stats game, but he’d been lost ever since he retired a few years ago. I almost felt sorry for him. He didn’t have a life after hockey, so now he was trying to live vicariously through the young guys. I think he spent a lot of time watching his old pro team practice, too.

“Naomi, did you hear me? You need to talk with the coach today to make sure you understand your duties.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” He hung up without even an I love you or goodbye. That was my dad. I knew he loved me, but he had a hard time showing it.

A week ago, I’d have been thrilled at the opportunity to spend more time in Patrick’s presence. Now, my befuddled brain bounced between the two twins. I had to get a handle on myself.

I checked my makeup, grabbed a jacket, and headed for the coach’s office, bolstered by the possibility of running into Pax, uh, Patrick. Much to my dismay, I didn’t run into him. He wasn’t in the dining hall either. I headed for the library to do some much needed studying.

The basement of the library was usually deserted, and I wasn’t in the mood for company, so I went downstairs and cracked the books. Instead of studying the business principles of sports management, I recalled the heat in Paxton’s eyes when he’d entered me for the first time. The pure heaven of it all.

“Hey, Naomi.”

I jerked my head up and stared straight into the bright brown eyes of a guy I knew from some of the frat parties. We’d dated a few times my sophomore year, but he’d been a self-absorbed jerk. I’d dumped him pretty quickly. That didn’t stop him from trying on occasion to hook up again.

“Hey, Bart.” I turned away and stared at my book, hoping he’d get the hint and leave me alone. He didn’t. He sat down next to me and scooted his chair closer. I moved away from him until my chair was wedged between his chair and the wall.

“I’m bored. Why don’t we find some other source of entertainment?”

A girl couldn’t be subtle with a guy like Bart. You had to clobber him over the head to get through to him. With his looks and money, I was sure he’d rarely heard the word no.

“Thanks but no thanks.”

“Ah, come on.” He wrapped a lock of my hair around his index finger and leaned in close. I smelled beer and the overpowering scent of his cologne.

“I’m waiting for someone,” I lied.

By his knowing smirk, he didn’t believe me. “Ditch him. I’m way more fun.”

“Actually, you’re not.” I spoke from experience. Bart was too selfish to care about anyone but himself.

He scowled at me. “I don’t like to be disrespected.” His syrupy-sweet tone turned menacing. I glanced around, but the basement appeared empty.

“I don’t like to be harassed.” I lifted my chin defiantly and stared him straight in the eyes.

He leaned in closer. Both hands held my arms in a vise-like grip. My heart pounded in my chest, and I fought down the panic rising inside me. I was all alone down here without a chance anyone would hear me. It was well known by the students this area of the basement had no security cameras since there was nothing of real value stored down here.

“Naomi?”

I was never happier to hear Paxton’s voice.

7

In the Book Stacks

Paxton

I was a glutton for punishment. Naomi kept popping up where I was, and I didn’t mind one damn bit. If her frequent appearances weren’t a coincidence, they most likely had more to do with my brother than me, but tell that to my lovesick heart.

By Thursday, I’d had too many cold showers and late-night fantasies. Thoughts of Naomi were making me crazy to the point I was irritated with myself and itching for a fight. I’d been an ass at hockey practice that afternoon and relished slamming my brother up against the boards. Patrick was furious at me, and I didn’t blame him. It was a cheap hit. Coach Keller made me stay after practice and do skating drills for twenty minutes. Then Coach Garf, disturbed by my aura, insisted we work on sports psychology stuff for another half hour.

By the time I showered and dressed, my teammates had deserted me, most heading for the Biscuit. I’d neglected my studies all week and wasn’t in the mood to hang out with my boisterous buddies. My mood was darker than that. Besides, Patrick needed time to cool off, and so did I.

I grabbed a bite at the union building and trudged over to the library, where I’d hunker down and attempt to study, even though my concentration level had been shot to hell since last Saturday night.

I slipped downstairs to the basement, not wanting to be recognized or, even worse, mistaken for Patrick. No one liked studying in the basement. The place was poorly lit, a little spooky, and smelled funny, like it leaked or something. And if I was being honest with myself, which I wasn’t, Naomi was known to study down here. In fact, she’d showed me this location our freshman year.

I paused, listening.

I heard voices, one very familiar. In fact, so familiar that voice lived in my dreams, day and night. Only this time, it wasn’t husky with lust or sleepy from a great orgasm. Instead, that voice of an angel sounded frightened.

I rounded the corner of the book stacks to the space where several tables were and took in the situation.

“Naomi?” I said, assessing the situation. Naomi was wedged between the wall and some guy who had his hands on her and not in a good way. I was going to put my hands on him and show him just how tough hockey players were.

The asshole loosened his grip on her when he heard my voice. Naomi looked up, spotted me,