Egotistical Puckboy (Puckboys Book 1)

AS WE BOARD the plane in Vegas to fly to Denver, I go to take my seat when Coach’s voice fills the cabin.

“Palaszczuk, Hayes, you’re at the back with me.”

There are a few snarky comments, some jeers, and one big frown from Diedrich sent our way.

“What are we in trouble for now?” I ask when I reach his seat. “It’s been almost a week on the road, and we haven’t so much as got into a fight. Ooh, are you going to give us medals?”

Anton shoves me with a laugh.

“Sit,” Coach says and nods to the row in front of him.

Oh shit. We’re in a lot of trouble, then. Anton takes the window seat, me the aisle, leaving the middle seat as a buffer, and then we turn to Coach.

“When we get to Colorado, there’s going to be some room changes.”

“Room changes?” Anton asks.

“I’ve had the PR department, team management, and the owner chewing me out for my guys being more interested in pranks than playing hockey.”

“Come on, it’s all in good fun,” I say.

“Is it though?” Coach glares at us, and I get the impression he doesn’t want us to actually answer that. “Is it all in good fun that instead of being in the news for beating Arizona, the focus has been on our losses, and every sports reporter, fan, and even people who don’t care about hockey are out there analyzing every look you send each other on the ice. Every pass, every scowl, every smile, and every prank you post on social media. You two are under the microscope, so the GM suggested we room you together to save on hotel property damage bills. I, personally, don’t see how murdering each other will be better than pranking each other, but hey, it’s worth a try.”

I turn to Anton. “Who knew Coach had a sense of humor?”

“I’m a hoot,” Coach says dryly. “That was all. Stop with the bullshit, and focus on what’s important, okay? Focus on winning, and they won’t care what you two do on or off the ice.”

“Yes, sir,” Anton says.

Coach makes a swirling motion with his finger. “You can turn around now.”

Anton and I try not to laugh at each other and face the front.

We don’t talk for the entire flight. Anton shoves his pods in his ears and watches something on his phone, while I dive headfirst into all the new articles online about Anton and me.

They’re a little unnerving. Anton and I have always made waves with our known rivalry, but with the trade and rumors of us actually being friends, speculation is getting out of hand.

And when I read an article that implies there might be even more than friendship between us, my gut sinks.

West used to have these kinds of rumors swirling around about him all the time, and he didn’t care, but he was ready to come out if he needed to. He didn’t want to make a big song and dance about it, but he was fine if people knew.

Anton … I don’t think he’s ready for any of that yet. I’m not sure how he’ll take the news that rumors have started about him. He was fine coming out to that kid and his dad, but that’s two people. It’s not the whole damn world.

I stare over at him. He seems relaxed and not like his usual uptight self. I’m sure the fuckfest we had last night has something to do with that, but given the choice, would Anton put his reputation on the line for sex with Ezra Palaszczuk?

It’s explosive sex, but there needs to be a line somewhere. At what point does this whole thing become not worth the risk? Obviously, my bar is probably set higher than a lot of people’s. I get the impression Anton has a low threshold.

When we land in Denver, I haven’t decided if I will show Anton or not.

Kosik sidles up to me as we head for the bus to go to the hotel. “Is it true? Have all my dreams come true?”

“Your nightmares maybe. You’ve lost me as a roommate. I know how devastating that is for you, but if you really miss me, I can sneak into your room and spoon you again if you like.”

“Fuck off, Ez.” He laughs. “Rooming with the rookie has to be ten times better than rooming with you.”

“Good luck,” Anton says behind us. “Moreau snores.”

“It’s true,” Diedrich adds. “My kids are scared of him after he stayed with us a few weeks. They think when he sleeps, he turns into a monster.”

Kosik purses his lips. “Hmm, nah, still has to be better than being dragged into the middle of some dumbass feud.”

“Mm, we’ll see. You can always come running back to me.” I blow him a kiss.

“In your dreams. If you’re hitting on me, you must be hard up for some action. Maybe you need to get laid.”

“Normally, I’d disagree with you, but I think you might be right.”

Anton’s eyes lock with mine.

“Getting laid sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Anton shifts and turns away, but not before I see his lips twitch.

We can’t get to the hotel fast enough, and he must think so too, because the second we get our key cards to the room, he moves toward the elevators faster than lightning.

I’m about to follow him when I notice Diedrich watching. His gaze flits between the both of us, suspicion lacing his features, but then he shakes his head as if to say me and Anton hooking up is impossible.

“He’s going to dead-bolt you out of the room,” Diedrich says.

“Oh, shit.” I rush after Anton, taking the excuse and running with it.

But it doesn’t take long to process what happened just now with our captain. It might have only been a brief second before dismissing it, but he made the connection—the same one people in the media are starting to make.

I catch up to Anton as he opens our room, and he holds the door open for me.

“Don’t pretend to be a gentleman now,” I snark.

“Mm, what I want to do to you isn’t gentlemanly at all.”

We dump our bags, and then Anton backs us up so he can push me against the wall. His arms box me in, and my lips tingle to kiss him again.

“I have to say, this new rooming arrangement is kind of perfect,” Anton says.

It is. It really is. Or, it would be if I didn’t have this massive hesitance hanging over my head. My face must show it because Anton backs up a bit.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I want this. I really, really want to have all the orgasms with you, but …” I bite my lip. “I’m having an attack of conscience here.”

“Really? You? It must be bad for that to happen.”

I wave him off. “Insert argument here. But for real. After Coach told us we’re being watched, I went online, and I think he’s understating how much attention we’re drawing.”

Anton’s face falls. “Oh, fuck, are there photos?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s … speculation.” I fish my phone out of my pocket and show him. “If you want out or whatever, I’m cool.” I’m not really because I’m nowhere near done with him, but I’m not going to be the asshole who makes him take a step he’s not ready to. The thought of pushing this and having Anton resent me for it doesn’t sit right.

“Eh. It’s more bullshit. Like our rivalry and bromance. They’re trying to sell a story.”

“Yeah, except our rivalry and this”—I point to my phone—“is damn near close to the truth. If we’re going to keep doing this, you should probably be okay with the possibility of it getting out. Which would mean coming out or being outed.”

Anton scrolls through the article again. “Well, now that we’re being roomed together, it’ll be a lot easier to hide, but you’re right. I’ve always had the notion in the back of my head that if I do something risky, I have to be okay with the fallout, and this is no different. Hell, this might even help me. When I come out, it won’t be a complete shock to everyone. And it’s not like I’m holding back for any particular reason. So, yeah, this is fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Is that concern for me I hear in your voice?”

I want to say the expected—Of course not—but the smartass reply doesn’t come. “I don’t want to be the reason the world as you know it unravels.”

“That … might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I mean it.” And I do, which is so far beyond my realm of experience when it comes to men. I … want to put Anton first. The only other person I’ve ever tried that with before was West, and I still messed that up.

With Anton, I want to do better.

“In that case, I appreciate it.” He kisses me. “Now, stop being sincere. Your pretty head will explode.”

I chuckle. “Okay, sorry. Back to all the sex. We should get to it. We have a game to win tomorrow night.”

Anton strips off his shirt. “Who’s bottoming tonight?”

“Flip you for it?” I grab my wallet and take out a quarter.

“I call heads.”

“Being given tails has to be an omen.” I toss the coin in the air and catch it, placing it on the top of my hand and covering it with the other.

It takes a moment to realize I don’t even care what the result is.

Kosik and I are a solid wall on the ice tonight. Nothing is getting by us.

Anton’s having the game of his life and has scored four fucking goals on his own.

It’s the first game of the regular season where we’ve had synergy as a team. Sure, we’ve taken out two wins, but they were hard-fought wins. Tonight, we’re back in preseason ass-kicking mode, and even though we still have nine minutes left on the clock in the third period, the score is 7-2 to us. We’d have to majorly fuck up to lose when we’re this far ahead.

It’s not impossible though, so we keep pushing. We keep scoring. Our plays are smooth, and we’re clicking. It’s one of those games where it comes easy, and we’ll walk away tonight on a high.

The games where we have to fight tooth and nail and get by in a pinch might have an indescribable accomplished feeling attached to them, but when they’re like this one? It feels historic.

We’re half trying to run out the clock, half wanting to see how far we can really take this. Diedrich wins a face-off and passes the puck back to me.

I chill in our defending zone, faking a couple of moves like I’m going for it when I’m not, and skate circles around the puck a couple of times like I don’t have a care in the world.

When I do finally pass, it’s to Kosik, and then he passes it right back. Colorado has all my bases covered, though Anton and Larsen are trying to skate their way out of their mess.

The second Anton is open, I pass to him. He spins and almost gets clipped by a D-man, so he passes off to Diedrich.

Play moves down the ice into the attack zone, and Diedrich circles around the back of the net and passes off to Anton, who shoots through the five-hole.

When the lamp lights up, the crowd screams so loud over the goal horn I can barely hear it.

The look of pure shock on Anton’s face is going to be all over the media tonight. That goal is going to be on highlight reels for the rest of the season. Anton Hayes has made the very short list of players who have pulled off five goals in one game.

Where I should be jealous or bitter that it was Anton who did it, there’s none of that. I’m actually … proud.

After the rest of our teammates attack him with hugs and claps on his ass, I barge through them all and wrap my arms around him.

Our helmets bounce off each other, and we almost topple over, but somehow, we manage to stay upright.

“Thank fuck you did that for our team,” I say.

“The trade isn’t looking so bad now, I take it?”

That’s an understatement. I’m starting to think it was the best damn decision the B’s has ever made. And not just because of the hockey.