Page 1 of Slapped Into Love

ChapterOne

Ryan

Practicingour slap shots was my favorite part of practice. It wasn’t just because it was fun to show off a bit since I had the best slap shot on the team. This drill was one of the last ones, which meant we were almost done. Jason Campbell, my defensive line mate, set up on the top of the circle opposite from where I was. Our friend, and my neighbor at the apartment complex where I lived, Alec Rourke, setup at center ice on the blue line while his line mate moved past me to the bottom of the circle. Alec didn’t wait long before he fired a pass to Jason, who cycled it to me for a one timer that sailed straight intothenet.

Snagging a puck, Jason passed it to Alec. When his shot went high and slammed into the boards, I flashed him a cocky grin. “Shut it, Forrester. We all know you’re the king of the slap shot,” hegrowled.

“Only because he keeps calling himself that,” Jason laughed, sending the puck Alec’s line mate had passed to himmyway.

Raising my stick, I pivoted my hips and put some extra force into my already powerful shot. My aim didn’t suffer for it, and the puck crashed into the back of the net. “What can I say?” I shrugged my shoulders. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.Right?”

“I thought flaunting it was puck bunny territory?” Jasonasked.

“Ask Ryan, he’d know,” Alecreplied.

Their gazes turned my way. “Like I’m the puck bunny expert? Alec would know just as well as me,” I snapped. “Better even, since I’ve been staying awayfromthem.”

“Oh, yeah? Since when?” Alecsnorted.

Coach sent a glare our way, and we started cycling the puck for slap shots again. It didn’t stop Jason from sticking his nose in my business, though. “Now that you mention it, I guess you have been flying solo lately. I hadn’t noticed it before because I’ve had my own stuff going on with Cee-Cee. What’s up with that? Did I misssomething?”

“Just a mystery woman who ruined puck bunnies for me forever,” I mumbled, wincing at the memory of how shitty I’d felt when I woke up alone after the last time I’d hooked up with someone. Just the memory of her gave me a semi, while being near any other woman since then had my dick shriveling and my balls trying to creep back up into my body. Not that I was going to share shit like that with the guys. Some things were better leftunspoken.

The blowing of a well-timed whistle dragged their attention away from me and the story I wanted to keep to myself. “Bring it in, guys!” Coachhollered.

We skated to center ice and took a knee in front of him. As I dropped down, my muscles protested. Hockey seasons were long, and at that moment I swore I felt every minute we’d spent ontheice.

“I’ve got good news and better news for you guys. Which do you want first?” our coach asked, his lips tilting up in asmirk.

I didn’t trustthatlook.

Or his tone ofvoice.

And definitely not the gleam inhiseye.

He was happy about something, and Coach was never happy. Not during season, anyway. Win or lose, he was always serious. I had a feeling that we weren’t going to agree with his classification of the news he had. Some of it was going to be bad—at least from our pointofview.

“Good!” about half the teamyelledout.

“Better!” the other halfhollered.

“Neither,” I mumbled under my breath, earning me an elbow in the ribs fromJason.

Coach rubbed his hands together in excitement, and I jerked my head in his direction as I turned to glare at my line mate. “Just wait for it,” I hissedathim.

“I guess I’ll start with the good news since it makes more sense to do it that way anyway,” Coach chuckled. “The data guys in the office were doing some number crunching, and our playoff chances are looking better and better each week. They said we have a ninety-eight percent chance of securing our spot. As long as you guys keep playing the way you have been lately—which you damn well better do—we can clinch it by the end of thisweekend.”

Jason nudged me. “See, it’s good news. Stop being such a suspiciousbastard.”

“And there’s something better than that?” our team captain asked. We all wanted the championship cup badly, but none more than him. It was his last season before retirement, and for him nothing would beat going outontop.

“The better news is that I’ve secured a power skating coach who’ll make the most of the month we have until the start of the playoffs to improve your speed on the ice. Startingtoday.”

Tired groans echoed around the rink. We’d just finished a grueling practice, and I was beyond ready to hit the locker room and take a shower. “Told you so,” Imuttered.

Jason shrugged. “Don’t be a dick. It’s not like this is the end of the world. We’ll do some extra skating drills;sowhat?”

Coach held up his hand, putting a stop to all of our grumbling and side conversations. “I don’t want to hear it, guys. Every single team in this league is looking for little things to make themselves better, and I’ve found us someone who can give us that. At the level of game play we’ll be facing in the playoffs, even a one percent improvement on your speed can make the difference between winning and losing. So suck it up and do what needs to be done to help us get to thechampionship.”

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