Page 3 of Yo Ho Ho
Hockey players were known to be tough guys, but Alex sounded a little demoralized. Logan used his good arm to put a hand on Alex's shoulder with the Russian eagle tattooed on it.
"We'll do our best as a team to stay out of trouble so that doesn't happen," he tried to say reassuringly.
"So in other words, I'm going to get punched tomorrow."
"Probably."
Alex sighed and threw more ice chips from his hand into his mouth. "Don't worry," he said between bites. "I'll make sure none of them get to your bad arm."
"Doesn't sound convincing, but I'll take it."
Logan pushed past and grabbed a towel from the bathroom rack, letting it unfold as he walked back into the room. He started to grab the liner of the ice bucket before a hand came swooping around him.
"One more bite!" Alex popped a handful of ice cubes in his mouth and turned back to the bathroom. "I'm taking a hot shower. Don't bug me," he said before slamming the bathroom door shut.
Logan just shook his head and grabbed the plastic bag out of the bucket, tying a knot in it with one hand — a trick he had learned after plenty of injuries in the past. He gathered up his cold prize and his towel, dragging both back to his bed where he was able to position the whole package over his sore shoulder.
And then he sat. Damn, he needed that coolness on his body, calming the ache that had been lingering from a hit two days ago. It would be fine if he had a week off after that game in Alberta, but he wasn't a football player. He was a hockey player in the middle of the regular season. He couldn't just sit and heal for six days.
At least he could sit and have some quiet time to let his mind find some peace.
Instead, it found Maxine Quinn.
There were two memories that always stuck out in Logan's mind when it came to Max. The first was the day he met her almost three years ago when he got sent to the Detroit Pirates right at the trade deadline. That was fine by him. His Toronto team had been at its worst lately while the Pirates were in playoff contention. So he packed up some clothes and his hockey gear in his Land Rover and drove the four hours to Detroit with barely a passing thought of the team he was leaving behind.
He was unpacking his bag in his new locker room when someone tapped him on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, Logan?"
He looked up to find a woman standing in front of him — red sweater, tight blue jeans, black boots. Long dark brown hair and dark brown eyes to match. She was heavenly.
"I'm Maxine Quinn, reporter for theDetroit Herald."
She was a journalist, which meant she was off limits. Of course.
Except there was Logan's other memory of Max, one that he had never mentioned to anyone. Not to his friends and definitely not to his teammates.
A year ago. This same hotel in Denver that they always stayed in when the team was on the road. Snow finally tapering off outside after a storm dumped piles of the white stuff in only a few hours. The Pirates had already been here for 24 hours, champing at the bit to play, only to have the game postponed because of the weather.
It was late. The team was getting stir crazy. A few of the guys were playing cards while the reporters told stories about the crazy road trips they were on back in the '80s. The coaches were yammering on about the old days. Nachos, beers, Alex swearing in Russian as he lost another hand of poker. Some of the guys moved all the furniture out of the rookies' room into the hotel lobby.
No one was paying attention to Logan as he slipped out of the room they were in to get some candy from the vending machine down the hall. No one saw him run into Max. No one noticed them talking shop as he walked back to her hotel room with her — and as she invited him in.
It was no big deal. They were on friendly terms. Reporter and player debating which team in the eastern division was looking the best for a possible playoff run. Innocent conversation.
Until somehow it became a whole lot less innocent. Logan couldn't remember who made the first move, but he really didn't care. He just knew she tasted sweet and her skin was soft and warm under his calloused fingers. And her breasts… They were the best breasts he had ever put his mouth on. All that was even before he made her moan, her nails digging into his back as she came hard and took him for all he had.
He stayed with her for a while, her warm body so close to his before he quietly slipped out after she fell asleep. The hall was silent, the players all tucked in for the night by the time he got back to his room. Alex was snoring as Logan gently shut the door behind him, thankful that his tryst wouldn't be noticed by anyone.
If only it could had been more than a tryst. After weeks of not mentioning it, not saying anything, after the New Year and more road trips, he finally had a fleeting moment with Max when no one else was around. That was the moment she told him their night together could never happen again.
"You can't tell me you didn't have a good time," Logan teased.
"It was a mistake. I'm a reporter, and we can't do that again," she said.
"Really, Max?"
She just gave him a stern look and turned, the tails of her bunny slippers bitterly bouncing down the hall as she headed back to her hotel room. Alone.
