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

that napkin. “Yeah, sure. Why?” His indifferent tone chilled me.

“I saw you on a phone call earlier. You seemed upset.”

“It’s nothing. Just the usual parental BS.”

“We need to talk.”

Paxton sighed as if he’d been expecting and dreading this. “Fine.” He pushed back his chair, not waiting for me. I hurried to catch up with him as he stepped outside.

“What’s wrong with you?” I hissed, pretty upset with his attitude.

“With me? What about you? After last night, I—” He stopped and clenched his jaw. I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn’t.

“What? You what?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“It does matter. Last night was—” I searched my brain for an answer, because I didn’t know what it was. I’d been struggling with what I’d done ever since it’d happened.

“A mistake. One more mistake.” He was in a mood, and I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him.

“Yeah, it was a mistake,” I shot back. I leaned into him to punctuate my point and jabbed at his chest with my finger. Our eyes met, and before I knew what was happening, we were in each other’s arms and kissing as if the end of the world would happen any second. I didn’t know who made the first move or if we both did, not that it mattered.

There was nothing tender about our kisses. They were deep and rough with raw emotions as our frustrations bubbled to the surface and manifested themselves in a hot make-out session. His big hands grabbed handfuls of my ass, and I slid mine up his shirt, digging my nails into his back. We were hungry for each other like two feral creatures with raging hormones and uncontrollable needs.

“Oh, my fucking God. Can’t you two find somewhere else to do that?” I heard the words, but it was several seconds before they sank in, and I realized someone was talking to us. Paxton released my ass, and I staggered back a few steps. Blinking to get my bearings, I turned to see Kaitlyn standing on the sidewalk, hands on hips, with disgust lining her beautiful face. Before either of us had a chance to respond, Kaitlyn pushed past us and through the door. The mood was broken.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your dad and Patrick?” Paxton jerked his chin toward their table. Then, dismissing me, he followed Kaitlyn into the building.

I’d been given my walking papers.

He’d never treated me so callously before. Never. I felt used. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it, but now wasn’t the time to confront him regarding his behavior. I wasn’t sure what last night had been or what had just happened or if this attraction between us led anywhere. I did know one thing, though. He was one of my best friends, and we needed to figure our shit out.

He’d just had a big argument with his asshole father, and maybe he was butt-hurt over Patrick flirting with me. Whatever. We’d be having words. Soon.

I stalked inside, unable to resist a glance at Paxton. He didn’t look my way. Sighing, I went to my table.

And began to plot my next move.

12

Sized Up

Paxton

Okay, I was an asshole, and I’d taken my misery out on Naomi.

I owed her an apology. She’d made herself scarce the rest of the weekend, and I couldn’t blame her to a point. I’d been a grouchy jerk and deserved her cold shoulder. On the other hand, she sent mixed messages, leaving me confused as hell. But, damn, that blow job and the sex from the week before haunted me and gave me no peace.

By Wednesday evening, I still hadn’t seen her. I wasn’t sure who was avoiding whom. Maybe it was both of us. I’d done a lot of thinking and come to a few conclusions about my life.

I carried my heaping tray of food to a table and sat down next to Patrick and a few other teammates, along with the gaggle of females currently in Patrick’s fan club.

I bit into my hamburger and chewed. The food in the dining hall was actually good, and the choices were endless. Pretty much something for everyone. And all a guy could eat. Considering the energy hockey players expended, the endless supply of food was a definite plus.

I ignored the girls sizing me up, knowing I was their second choice if they couldn’t snag my brother. I must’ve put out not-interested vibes, because they soon dismissed me and went back to drooling over Patrick.

I’d had a few workouts with Coach Garf, if you could call them that. The guy was decidedly weird. We did very little hockey and a lot of visualization and positive thinking exercises, along with reviewing a few chapters in the book, which I actually did read, even highlighted some paragraphs. The book had been a welcome distraction from my Naomi problems.

Coach insisted once the mental aspect of my game improved, the physical would fall in line. I was all-in, especially after being snubbed by Gene Smith and tortured watching Naomi with my brother. The negative talk in my head had to go, and I was making an effort to ban it and replace my thoughts with more positive affirmations. Coach did some of this work with the entire team, but he was drilling down with me, getting deeper into my psyche. The emotional intrusion bordered on uncomfortable at times, but mostly I kept an open mind and gave it all I had.

I knew I was screwed up. You couldn’t have a dad like I did and not be. Patrick and I’d turned out pretty well considering, thanks to those first ten years with a loving mother.

“Hey, are you in la-la land or what?” Patrick snapped his fingers in front of my face. I fucking hated it when he did that and snarled at him, drawing a hearty laugh from the asshole.

“What?” I said, shoving his arm away from my face.

“What’s with you? You’ve been weird lately.” Patrick lowered his