Playing for Keeps - Book 1

Chapter 1

I am seriously about to slap my sister, Lyndsey. She's been screaming in my ear for the past fifteen minutes, along with every other crazy fan watching the ice hockey game on the rink in front of us. I am trying my hardest to enjoy it, despite that I'm sandwiched between an overeager puck bunny baring her midriff and my horny sister who keeps squishing her face against the glass separating us from the ice. She squeals with delight and looks back at me when two players slam against the boards before us, tangling their sticks before clearing the puck.

Whenever a push turns into a shove or a player is inches from our section, cheers and claps echo up into the rafters and fill the fifteen-thousand-seat stadium with an absurd amount of noise. I scowl every time I get jabbed from behind, or another rowdy hockey nut sways a little too close into my personal space.

It isn't that I dislike hockey. Hell, I grew up surrounded by it. I loved watching our father, Hilton Ashby, ex-National Hockey League goaltender, guard his net. The highlight of my childhood was watching his team win the Stanley Cup.

He was my hero.

After he retired from the sport, he was inducted into the Hockey Hall of Fame. Until recently, he worked for many years as a Scout for the National Hockey League. Then, two months ago, he was promoted to President of Hockey Operations for the Santa Anna Tornados and their affiliate American Hockey League team, the Bexley Bruisers. His acquisition moved him to Santa Anna, leaving my little sister Lyndsey alone in Bexley, California. He made it up to her by purchasing her a condo a few blocks west of her college campus.

Until a few weeks ago, I was also absent from her life, halfway across the country at the University of Pennsylvania. Over the past four years, my distance hasn't given me many opportunities to return home. I've been nothing but responsible and focused on my education, making it nearly impossible for her to be angry about my absence. I've put my education first, and she's always been supportive. But since my spontaneous return, I've done my best to compensate for lost time. And it's not that I don't want to watch our father's new beloved team with her. It's just that I know we could be sitting comfortably in a corporate box, watching this nonsense from a distance like we did when we were kids.

But tonight, my sneaky little sister insisted we sit among this wild and unruly section because the Bruiser's new showstopper—and the main reason this stadium is filled tonight with screaming women howling out mating calls—is about to make his appearance on the ice.

On the ride to the game, Lyndsey talked my ear off about this so-called heartthrob who was once a first-round draft pick to the National Hockey League. Cash Brooks played a full three years under a pretty hefty contract. Six months ago, he was booted to the American Hockey League for continual misconduct. I tried to pay attention when Lyndsey rambled on in hockey terms about the ins and outs of contracts and waivers regarding Mr. Brooks. My eyes glazed over. I didn't care to pay attention to the complicated rules of why he was suddenly booted down to the minors.

What I did gather was that his lethally sexy looks, playboy attitude and hotheaded temper have made him quite the buzz in the media and a regular spectacle at the games.

Lyndsey nudges me with her elbow, snapping me back to the game. "That's him at the end of the bench. Closest to the coach." She points to the players' bench on the opposite side of the rink.

I look over in his general direction, but everyone wearing a white helmet and red jersey looks about the same to me. I nod, pretending I know whom she is talking about. My interest level in her new man crush is about nil, considering she has a new male obsession every other week.

"So explain to me why we are sitting on the opposite side of the rink if he is over there parking it on the bench?"

She straightens up a bit and gives me a superior smile. "Because, Quinn, everyone knows that if you want an up-close and personal view of the sexiest man alive, you must sit next to the penalty box. Best place to see the hockey Adonis who cracks skulls and causes heavy nose bleeds."