Cocky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series)

Today the team has the day off. We leave town in two days, and tomorrow Autumn and I are going to the hospital’s fundraiser and grand opening of the new children’s cancer hospital wing.

Isaac leaves today, and I almost want to ask him to stay to look after Autumn for the three days I’ll be gone on the road, but he has a life back in Vegas, and Autumn doesn’t need a babysitter.

I roll up to the curb in my sports car and look up at the large warehouse building. Sampson and Sons Gym is the MMA training gym that Isaac is training at today.

I get out of my truck and head for the army-green metal door, pulling it open. The music and the smell hit me right away. The music is blaring, and the smell of sweat and old musty warehouse permeates the space. If I thought the hockey locker room smelled of twenty sweaty ass players after one of Bex’s notorious ‘sweat drills’, I had no damn idea.

There’s light streaming in from the small windows at the top of the vaulted ceilings and one large stadium-sized light hovering over the three practice rings, laid out in a V-shape, one ring directly in front of me and two in the back. All three are currently in use. The one directly in front and the one in the back left currently have a fighter and a trainer working on combinations and jabs. But the ring in the back right has two men sparring. I see Isaac is one of the two men, and I head in his direction.

An assistant coach or someone who works for the gym makes a beeline for me. I figured someone would ask me who the hell I am and what I’m doing here. These gyms are invitation only, and with very few people working out inside at any given time, they can spot an outsider immediately.

“Can I help you, man?” a guy about my age says, walking up to me, flipping a gym towel to lay over his shoulder.

“Here to see Isaac. I’m a…” What are you now, bud? “A… friend. He’s staying with me,” I tell him.

The guy looks over at Isaac and then back at me. Seeing me for a second time must have refreshed his visual because recognition flashes in his eyes.

His demeanor changes; he eases slightly and then smiles. “Hey! You’re Briggs Conley, the hockey player, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking past him at Isaac as he puts a combo on his sparring partner, and the older man standing down on the ground is yelling more directions at Isaac with his erratic hand gestures. That must be the world-renowned gym owner and coach that Isaac came here to train with.

“A lot of people are saying this is going to be the Hawkeyes’ year.”

“I hope they’re right.”

“Well, good luck. Isaac’s in the back corner,” he says, and then turns and heads for the front ring.

I head for the back right ring. The second I put my hands on the ring’s ropes, the coach notices my presence, but he does the same as the coach before. His eyes flash over at me once, but he ignores me until it registers who I am.

“Conley?” he asks, and turns to me, putting out his hand to shake mine. “I’m Tim Sampson, owner of the gym.”

The guy can’t be taller than five-foot-seven, likely bald, but I can’t tell under his ballcap with the gym’s logo on it. He looks like a dude who could have been pretty lethal back in his day. For his age, probably in his sixties, the dude is still jacked.

“Good to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he says, his eyes darting between me and the two fighters in the ring, “Benji, stop letting Isaac get that close to you. You have a longer wingspan than he does,” he tells the other fighter, who’s currently getting his shins kicked the shit in by Isaac.

This time, Tim doesn’t turn to look at me, he just crosses his arms over his chest, and we stand side by side as we watch the two fighters.

“I’m a big fan of the Hawkeyes. Been following the team since the eighties when the stadium was built,” Tim says.

“Do you come to any games?” I ask, watching Isaac go for Benji’s legs for the takedown, but Benji narrowly escapes the move.

“Close, Isaac, that was very close. Next time you need to distract with a right kick to the outside thigh and then come down with that leg to launch forward. Your opponent is less likely to see it coming, and you have speed on your side!” Tim yells at Isaac.

“Haven’t been to a game in over a decade, but I’ve been meaning to take my grandson,” he says, still watching the fighters.

“Let Isaac know when you want to come down for a game. I’ll put some tickets down at will call for you.”

“Tickets… really? That’d be great. Thanks.”

“Just extending the hospitality. Isaac said that he’s getting more out of these three days than he has in a long time.” More like that’s what my mom told me yesterday when she called to check in. She heard it from Autumn’s mom while they were getting side-by-side pedicures.

“He’s a gifted fighter. His talents would have been wasted as a hockey player.” He glances over at me, quickly realizing he might have offended me, although I doubt this guy cares much about offending people. “No offense,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, my left jaw would have to agree with you,” I say under my breath.

He glances over at me and smirks. “I heard some grumblings about a sister.” He adjusts his weight and then looks back out at Isaac. “You the screwball responsible for why Isaac’s fighting so well?”

“Responsible for it?” I ask.

“Every fighter needs motivation. Someone to visualize when they’re putting the hurtin’ down on their opponent.”

Fuck, I hope that’s not me.

“I sure as hell hope not.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that guy’s hate either.”

Isaac goes for the kick and then the takedown that Tim suggests after sparring for a few minutes. Tim launches forward toward the ring.

“Yes! Yes! Now grab for the left leg! Get control, Isaac!”

This is where Isaac excels. Being a wrestler in high school, once he gets his opponent on the ground, it’s pretty much over.

“Pin him. Pin him.”

In a few seconds, Isaac has the fighter’s shoulders pinned to the floor.

“All right, all right,” Tim says, breaking off Isaac from turning the other fighter into a pretzel. Isaac pulls back and stands, giving his hand out to Benji and helping him up. Both of them are dripping sweat, staring over at Tim. Isaac’s opponent doubles over with his hands resting on his knees, probably to keep himself from collapsing, Isaac’s hands resting on his hips as if unfazed. And if he wasn’t breathing like a cheetah was on his ass, you’d never know that his training affects him at all. Tim’s right. MMA is where Isaac belongs.

“Take a water break. Catch your breath,” Tim says.

Isaac’s opponent nods and looks relieved for the break. Isaac seems uninterested in breaking at all. His attention finally falls on me as he realizes that I’m standing here too. I didn’t tell him I was coming.

“Hey,” he says flatly, and walks to the end of the ring, ducking under the ring ropes and climbing down off the ring. He grabs his towel and water bottle off the dark-stained cement floor and wipes his face before he takes a drink.

“What are you doing here, Conley?”

“Heard you’re kicking ass down here.”

He takes another drink of water and looks over at Tim, but Tim is busy taking a minute to talk to another fighter. Since Isaac has no excuse for getting back up in the ring, I go in for more.

“How are you feeling in there?” I ask.

He looks behind him, back at the ring, and then turns back to me. “Ready for another fight. My agent called. They’re lining up a fight in a couple of months.”

“That’s good news, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, and then takes another drink. “So, what are you doing down here?”

“I told you. I wanted to see you in action.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“We’re still friends, Isaac. We always will be, even if you hate my guts right now and you were visualizing beating my face in.”

“Visualizing beating your face? If I wanted to do that, I’d just do it.”

Nice.

“I’m not the motivation you need in the ring?” I ask

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Tim said every fighter needs motivation… someone to hate.”

“No, you’re not my motivation, Jesus. You think I hate you that much?” He asks squinting back at me.

“Feels like it.”

“I’m not happy about it, I think I’ve made that clear, but prison orange doesn’t look good on me.”

“Funny,” I say, looking over at the other fighters to avoid showing how frustrated I am that he’s still on this same track. I have to be patient if I want to keep our friendship. If I show any real fight in me, Isaac will push back harder.

“Your face looks better. My sister must be taking care of you.”

“She is,” I say, burying my hands in my pockets.

“Make sure you do the same.”

“I plan on it.”

“Just be careful, Briggs,” he warns, but it feels more like a plea.

“With what?”

“She’s had a thing for you since we were kids. It’s one of the reasons that I always warned you off her.”

She has? I hide the smile at the thought of Autumn liking me. It gives me more motivation to tell her that I think something is happening between us.

“Why would you do that?”

“You know the fuck why.”

“No, I don’t.”

He gives an irritable sigh. “You’ve never been ready for a girl like Autumn.”

“Are you saying that I don’t deserve Autumn?”

“That’s not what I said. I just said you’ve never been in a place to care for my sister the way that she deserves.”

Does he still feel that way?

“I care about her. I want to make her happy. Do you trust me now?”

He thinks for a second. “Jury’s still out, but our mothers seem hellbent on the idea.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I’ve heard.”

He laughs. “Better they’re on your ass than mine.”

“Just wait. Your day is coming too.”

He nods, and then Tim and Isaac’s sparring partner walk back over. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Want to do dinner at the apartment? I want to use that expensive grill out on the balcony before Autumn and I move out of the place.”

Isaac gives me a confused look. “Didn’t you guys just move?”

Oh shit.

“Uh, yeah, but it’s a short lease, and we might look for a place with more room.” Liar. “Your sister wants a dog.”

What the actual fuck? Why am I lying more than absolutely necessary?

“She’s always wanted a dog, but my parents wouldn’t let her. Now you’re going to cave? You’re getting soft in your old age, Briggs.”

“It’s not my age, it’s your sister.” That came out without even thinking, but it’s true.

He looks at me, but I can’t read what he’s thinking.

“I’ll see you later tonight for dinner. I’ll be here late since this is my last day of training before I leave in the morning.”

“Okay, a few of my teammates would like to meet you if you don’t mind them coming down; they all live in the building. Autumn is going out for drinks with the girls.”

“The girls?”

“A couple of women that work for the Hawkeyes. She’s become friends with them while coming to my games.”

“She’s making friends with people at your work? Fuck, you two are getting serious, aren’t you?”

I hope so, but we haven’t talked about it. There’s still the conversation of Derek and the need to get Isaac’s blessing.

“Yeah, we are.”

I pull my hands back out of my pockets, my right hand gripping my keys.

Isaac sees the keys in my hand. “You can stay and watch for a bit if you want.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

Isaac climbs back up the ring and ducks under the ropes. I stay for another hour and talk with Tim while we watch Isaac put into motion everything that he’s been learning over the last couple of days. He looks even sharper than he did in his fight last week. He’s improving with the help of Tim Sampson, but I hope he doesn’t make coming to Seattle and staying with us a recurring habit.

Staying with us. As in a future where Autumn and I are still together. The thought lingers as I leave the warehouse.

A few hours later, Isaac is sitting in a patio chair, and I’m getting the grill ready out on the balcony of the apartment. I hear the door open to the apartment and peer through the glass door of the balcony to see Autumn coming through.

I watch her walk into the kitchen and drop her purse on the kitchen island. “Autumn!” I yell to get her attention.

Her head whips over to find me looking over at her with a plate of seven raw steaks in one hand and a pair of tongues in the other.

She smiles over at me and then heads toward us.

She peaks out the door before walking through and sees her brother sitting in the chair. I can sense her tense up slightly.

“Hey, sis,” Isaac says, lounging in the chair with his feet up on the table and a beer in his hand.

“Hi, are you boys getting along?” she asks.

I look over at him, and he looks at me.

“Look, no new bruises on your boyfriend’s pretty face. Happy?”

Autumn looks over at me and takes a few steps toward me, softly putting her hands on my jaw and twisting it slowly side to side to ensure he isn’t lying.

When she confirms that I’m no worse for wear, she hums in approval. “He is pretty, isn’t he?”

I wish my hands weren’t full and her brother wasn’t here. I’d wrap my arm around her back and pull her to me, laying a kiss that I’ve been thinking about giving her all day.

She looks up at me, and I give my best “I want to lay you out on our bed and lick every inch of you” smile. She bites down on her lip and rubs her right earlobe with her perfectly painted pink fingernails. Her tell.

“I should go get ready. I have drinks with the girls.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Okay,” she says, her eyes not leaving mine for a second.

“Abandoning me on my last night,” Isaac pokes.

“Next time, give me some notice that you’re dropping in to harass us, and I’ll be sure to move my whole life around yours,” she fires back with sass that I love.

“What fun would that be?” he asks.

She turns to look back at me and rolls her eyes.

“Do you need a lift home? I could come get you,” I tell her, praying she takes me up on my offer. But before she can offer, Isaac pipes up.

“Don’t you take drinks from strangers or leave your drink unattended,” Isaac chips in. “In fact… just don’t drink at all.”

“Why don’t you just lock me up in a tall tower?” she asks.

“Don’t tempt me,” he says back.

“He’s right, though,” I agree.

“I’ve been a female for the last twenty-six years of my life. Thank you for your unsolicited advice, but I’m more in tune with the dangers I face every time I step out of this apartment than either of you knuckleheads could fathom.”

“Just be careful, that’s all,” Isaac says back with pleading eyes.

“We will. I’m going to get ready,” she tells him and then looks at me. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Not a chance if you’re not here.

I smile down at her. “We won’t. Lake, Reeve, Seven, and Ryker are coming down to level six tonight,” I say, referring to our apartment. Everyone else’s apartments are above us by a story or two.

She walks back into the apartment. I follow her movement down the hallway through the glass windows.

Once she’s out of sight, I remember why the hell I’m out here. I slab the steaks on the grill, along with slices of pineapples and halved peaches that I’ll sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon once they have a nice grilled flavor.

“Want a beer?” Isaac says, getting up out of his chair and heading for the kitchen.

“No, I’m not drinking,” I say, hoisting up my long-neck root beer.

“My sister has done a number on you, hasn’t she?”

You have no damn idea.

“Something like that,” I say, taking a sip of my cold drink.

A few seconds I hear, “The hell you’re going out like that.”

I look up from the grill and see Autumn and Isaac in the foyer of the apartment. I can’t see well enough through the glare of skyscrapers against the balcony windows. I head inside to find Autumn standing with annoyance, her hip popped to one side with her hand planted on top. Isaac stands with a scowl looking at her.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” she argues.

“Your shirt practically shows your belly button.”

“Can’t you find something else to do with your time? Get a hobby, Isaac.”

“What’s going on?” I say, stomping through the kitchen and heading toward them.

Isaac points at Autumn’s top. “She’s wearing that.” He grimaces.

I look over to see Autumn in a pair of jeans as tight as a second skin, a pair of high-heeled boots, and a top that’s… oh, shit.

My dick perks up a little at the plunging neckline of Autumn’s top. It’s not down to her belly button like Isaac is squawking about, but it’s down past her perky tits, and fuck, she looks good. I can see the indent of her breastbone and the top of where her stomach starts. I want to fucking pull her to me and lick a line from where the fabric dips down her perfect body to the top of her collarbone and then bite down on that beautiful neck while I strip her naked from head to toe.

“She looks good,” I smirk, taking another full scan of the gorgeous woman who will be in my bed later tonight, the ideas of what I plan to do to her already forming.

She smiles back at me.

“You’re going to let her go out like that when you’re not around? I hope you’re cool with every dick in that bar staring at your girlfriend.”

Oh fuck, he’s right. I didn’t think about that. I was too busy thinking of taking off every article of her clothing when she got home, hoping for her to be a little tipsy and handsy.

“He’s right. You should change.”

“Screw you both. I’m leaving,” she says, and then turns and heads for the door.

Isaac throws up his hands and stomps off in the opposite direction, back out to the balcony.

I jog behind her to catch up. “Wait, hold on.”

She puts her hand on the apartment door and then turns to look at me, an annoyed look in her eyes. “What?”

“You’re just going out with the girls?”

“Yes.”

“Are you meeting anyone else out there?”

“Like whom?” Her eyebrows furrow in question.

“Like…” I’m going to be in trouble for asking, aren’t I? “Like Derek.”

Her eyes turn into slits like she’s trying to see through me. “You should be careful. You’re starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend.”

I take a step forward. “What if I am?”

Her eyes widen, and we stare at each other for a beat.

“Briggs!” Isaac calls out from the balcony. “I’m flipping the steaks. And do you have A1 sauce?”

“Yeah,” I yell over my shoulder.

Just then, a knock echoes through the foyer.

The guys.

Autumn opens the door, and sure enough, a handful of my buddies walk through the open door, all of them unable to keep from looking down at Autumn’s shirt as they pass by.

Shit, the dicks at the bar are going to be all over her.

A notification flashes on her phone that her Uber is downstairs. “I have to go. They’re starting the meter. I’ll see you tonight, though. We can talk?”

I check back at the balcony and see that all the guys are far enough away and distracted with introductions, meeting Isaac the MMA fighter we all just watched a couple of days ago on pay-per-view.

“Yeah. I’ll be the dude in your bed,” I say, taking another step and bending down to kiss her.

She melts into me and drops her hand off the door handle. I press her back up against the door and deepen our kiss, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She moans and grips my shirt at my chest height and pulls me closer. My hands slide behind her and grip her ass with both hands.

Then they travel up her backside and sneak under her shirt, my fingertips gliding over the bare small of her back. I can feel the small dimples that sit just above her ass, the curvature of her spine, and the warmth of her skin against mine.

“Briggs! Steaks are done, and we’re starving. Let’s eat,” I hear Isaac say.

She pulls her mouth off mine and giggles. “You’d better deal with the grown toddlers on our balcony.”

Our balcony. I like the sound of that.

I pull back just enough to lock my eyes with hers. Isaac’s words from today echo in my head.

“She’s had a thing for you since we were kids.”

If the blackmail hadn’t happened, would I have missed out on this woman? I think I would have.

I want to ask her if Isaac’s words are true, but she’s right. Now isn’t the time.

“Don’t you want to take him with you?” I practically beg.

“Nice try,” she says, putting her hand back on the door handle and twists it. “He’s a buzzkill and all yours.”

The door creaks open, and now I have to step back and let her leave, but I don’t want to.

I watch her dip out through the door, smiling over her shoulder at me and then closing the door behind her. She’s gone, but it still smells like her, and I take a long inhale.

I walk back to the balcony as Isaac and the guys are all sitting down to eat at the long outdoor patio table that seats eight, but five big dudes make this table look like it was built for children. We barely all fit.

A couple of hours later, my buddies take off back upstairs. We have an early skate in the morning, and everyone wants a good night’s rest.

Isaac is standing at the balcony railing with a beer in his hand as he looks out over Seattle.

“I’m leaving tomorrow, and I need to let you know… that I know,” he says.

That was cryptic.

“You know what? That you’re a dumbass?” I say as I step up to the balcony and mimic his forearms resting on the balcony railing.

“Funny, asshole,” he says, sending a glare my way. “No, that you’re not dating Autumn.”

“What are you talking about? Of course, I am,” I say.

“Hold on to that denial. I’m getting to that next. That’s not what I want to talk to you about. There’s another reason why I came here besides you fake dating my sister and lying to me about it.”

“You already knew about Autumn and me?”

“Not until the first night when she told me.”

She told him?

“And that pencil dick Derek stopped me on my way back up this afternoon to confirm my suspicions.”

“What the fuck?! How… when?! What the hell did he say?” I tense up and grab for my phone to text Autumn and ask where that asshole lives.

“Just chill for a second. I want to talk to you about your dad.” He takes a pull off his beer and then looks up at me. “It’s back, isn’t it?” he asks softly.

I look down at the street six stories below us.

“It’s sophomore year of college all over again. You’re drinking.”

“I stopped, so leave it the fuck alone.”

“Autumn told me about the partying.”

Did he tell her what he suspects is going on?

“She did?” I ask.

“Not in so many words. I’ve seen the gossip column and social media about you partying, and Autumn said that she’s helping repair someone’s career and has to lie to people she cares about. It wasn’t hard to piece it together after that.”

I don’t respond. The idea that Autumn is feeling guilty for lying to people we both care about and love is a punch to the gut. It’s not as if I don’t know that she and I are both lying, but it hits harder when hearing that she’s not happy about being put in this predicament because of the way I’ve been handling the news.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

I hang my head.

“Stage three.”

“How’s he coping?”

“Fuck, man,” I say, shaking my head and trying to hold back the wetness in my eyes trying to break through. “He’s the strongest man I know. How can this be happening? I thought he won last time. Why is it coming back?”

I stare out at the skyline. I can’t look at Isaac, my oldest friend and the only person I’ve ever confided in about how hard my dad’s cancer struggle has been on me.

“I don’t know. And I know I’m not the asshole who should be saying this, but burying yourself in booze and women isn’t going to take the hurt away.”

“What do you mean? You still bury yourself in booze and women.”

“Fuck yeah, I do. But for the fun of it.” I give a halfhearted chuckle, and then so does he. He’s trying to lighten the mood. “But you’re doing it because you feel out of control and want to forget for a few minutes about what’s happening in your life. The problem with that is… you’re just wasting time because he’s still here. You’re grieving the loss of a living man. You need to wake up and look around you at the things you still have, like your dad.”

“It’s hard to see him like this. He’s sick, and every day there’s more bad news, and he keeps this bright outlook. It’s just not fucking fair.”

“It doesn’t seem like Autumn knows.”

“I haven’t told her.” I admit.

“She thinks the drinking is because…”

“Because I’m a hockey player who likes to party. It’s easy enough to let her believe that than to tell her the truth.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, shaking his head.

“Do what?”

“Push my sister away.”

“That’s fucking confusing,” I say, giving him a lifted brow.

“I just mean that she can help you through this.”

“But don’t touch her.” I clarify.

“…Or I’ll kill you,” he says, finishing my thought. “Listen, I’m not happy that you’re using my sister to improve your image, but she needs this to get her promotion. So… fuck it. I guess do the damn thing until this shit is done with. I’ll stay off your ass and keep your secret from our moms.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You will?”

“Just until this whole thing is over in another month or whatever the hell. She gets you out of the situation, and you get her the job she wants. But that’s it. I’m only agreeing to this because Autumn deserves that job. I don’t give a fuck about your career in the NHL. You get me?” he says, looking over at me. “Then you two break up and find a way to tell our moms in a way that doesn’t crush their souls. And we never talk ever again about how you fake-dated my sister.”

“And what if I don’t agree to your terms? What if I don’t want to break it off after?”

He straightens his posture. “Don’t push your damn luck with me. And Conley?”

“Yeah?”

“Go the fuck home and see your dad,” he says, pushing off the railing and heading back inside the apartment.

I guess the heart-to-heart is over.

This wasn’t how I saw this conversation going tonight. I hoped I was going to convince him to see that I was making her happy. That all his misconceptions about me not being boyfriend material for Autumn would be obvious over the last couple of days.

Isaac was clear. He’ll let us get what we need out of this arrangement, and then it ends. Otherwise, he’ll be back, and our friendship will be over.