Clipped by Love (Bellevue Bullies #2) (23 page)

He then looks directly at me and holds my gaze. It’s as if he is talking just to me, and I know he’s right. Chills run down my spine as I suck in a deep breath. Baylor has his eyes, those intense, no-bullshit kind of eyes that put a little fear inside of you. He isn’t playing. He isn’t blowing smoke up our asses; he means business and I know he is my ticket to the top.

The only problem is Baylor is attached to him.

And now me.

And in no way, shape, or form the way I dreamed.

I’
m trying to act cool.

I’m trying to act like I’m not nervous.

That I belong.

That this is my ice.

That I’m not shaking in my skates.

That my neck isn’t itching from the sweat dripping down it.

Or that it is taking every ounce of my willpower not to just burst out in tears from the frustration of being under his damn gaze.

Staring into those eyes, the depths of green emeralds that are as hard as ice, has my skin breaking out in gooseflesh and my heart pounding so hard, I’m sure it’s gonna shatter through my ribs, rip through my chest and land dead on the ice. I feel completely and utterly out of place, and that’s not right. This is what I’m meant to do, this is my ice, this is going to be my team, but I can’t even look at anyone. I can feel their gazes on me, scrutinizing me, and sizing me up. I should be used to it, it happens all the time, but not when Jayden is watching.

He makes it all kinds of different.

He makes me nervous, freaks me out, and I don’t know, makes me feel little, if that makes sense? I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. Maybe it’s because I let my walls down, because I let him get a foot in—only a foot, thank God—but still, he got more in than any other person. But then he turned it all around and threw it in my face, along with all the rejection of an army. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, but still, he hurt me.

And I don’t let people hurt me. Which says a lot about him. A lot I don’t want to admit or even recognize, but it’s right there. Like a big old “Open” sign, telling me he means more than I think. But then I decided to beat the shit out of the sign with my hockey stick. Somehow though, the dumb-ass sign is still blinking, and no matter how much I beat it or try to ignore it, it’s there. He’s there. With those sinful eyes.

As my dad talks, he listens intently, every bit the hard-core hockey player I know he is. When he does look at me—which has only been three times, not that I’m counting—he doesn’t glare. He doesn’t have any anger in his eyes, more like surprise and maybe even a little curiosity. He was shocked when my dad said I was going for captain, but he wasn’t mad. Maybe a little worried, though. Probably because he knows I can beat him.

No. That I
am
going to beat him.

“So yeah, I hope you guys trust me because I trust you. Until you break my trust, all of you are my boys. I will treat you as mine as long as you do what I expect of you. Step out of line, I will ruin you. It’s that simple,” Dad says with all the truth in the world.

Last year, three guys got kicked off the team for disrespecting not only me but also two other guys. They were hazing us something crazy, coming in in the middle of the night and beating us with socks full of pucks. I had two cracked ribs and still have a chipped tooth, but I wasn’t talking. Neither were the other two guys. We kept it in and dealt with it because it was supposed to happen, they explained. But when Seth, our captain and my ex, found out, he lost his ever-loving shit. That’s probably why I fell in love with him. When in the end, he hurt me more than the three idiots ever could.

So in retrospect, I’d take those socks over the heartache of Seth anytime.

Hell, I might even take them over being under Jayden’s gaze.

“But let’s hope that doesn’t happen. Instead, let’s be a family, okay?” he asks and everyone nods, almost in awe of him. Usually, it takes time for the team to trust their coach, but I can see in all of these guys’ eyes. They believe my dad, which is good, because he’s the real shit. “Good, now I need all my forwards in a line, my defensemen behind them. Goalies, Patrick and Willards, y’all are in goal. Finne, you’re on the bench for now, but don’t let that derail you, you’ll get your chance in goal.”

Everyone starts to stand, and I don’t miss the looks from my teammates as we section off. I do everything in my power to go nowhere near Jayden, but somehow he ends up behind me in the line with the defensemen.

“Sinclair, Moore, Blomqvist, first line with Sinclair and Kuntz.”

Jace pops his head out of the line and glances over at me, a huge grin on his face. I don’t know why he is grinning at me. He is public enemy number one’s brother. He’s as good as dead to me too, but by the way he looks, I guess he’s just realized that.

“Coach?”

My body vibrates from Jayden’s voice. It’s as low as I remember it and oh so smooth. I can still feel his large hand against my face as his thumb ran along my jaw. It may have been sixty-six days ago, but I still remember everything.

“You are gorgeous, Baylor. Don’t ever forget that.”

Yeah, right. Why the fuck would he say that if he was going to go and reject me not ten minutes later? It makes no sense. He makes no damn sense, and ugh, he makes me mad. Curling my lip, I glare as my dad looks up from his clipboard.

Looking at me twice, confused, he finally looks past me and says, “Sinclair?”

“I usually play with Paily,” he says in a very authoritative way, but my dad is already shaking his head.

“There were a few games where line changes were messed up and you were with Kuntz. It was good, really good, so trust me, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” is Jayden’s response, and I can feel his breath on my neck. It’s warm and fully lethal, or maybe it’s my imagination. I’m not sure, but I need to rein this all back in. He is my teammate; that’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. I don’t even have to talk to him. Yup. Nothing, only time I need to talk is when I need the damn puck.

That’s my new plan. It’s a good one, eh?

“You won’t last here,” the guy beside me says then as Dad calls out the other lines and the assistant coach passes out different colored jerseys.

When he hands me my teal jersey before reaching behind me to hand Jayden a dark blue one, I look over at my new friend and smile. “No?”

“Nope, your dad might think you can, hell, you might, but this team is ruthless. We fight for what we want.”

“So do I,” I answer as I drop my stick and gloves, pulling my other jersey off and putting my new one on. “A lot of people doubt me.”

“I know I do.”

“Usually when that happens, I just smile. Because while you’re pushing carts at Target, I’ll be in the NHL, making my dreams come true.”

A few of the guys chuckle around me while the guy holds my gaze. “We’ll see who’s pushing carts, or better yet, who will be making me dinner at night.”

I scoff as I raise an eyebrow. “One, I don’t push carts, I bury pucks. And two, if you think I’d touch you, even for a slimy one-night stand, or better yet make you dinner, you got another thing coming.”

A few guys do that annoying ooooooh noise, and that gets my dad’s attention. “Problem, McCarthy? Moore?”

I shake my head, and we both say, “No, sir.”

He nods. “Good. Put your jersey on, McCarthy.”

I nod as I pick up my gloves and then my stick. When I look back at the guy, he is watching me, his beady black eyes trained on me through his cage. I square my shoulders, hoping to come off pretty badass as the whistle blows.

He then says, “There is only one place for women, and that’s the kitchen, making me a sandwich.”

I go to laugh, but then he is moving, shoulder checking me as he passes. He’s a big guy, and I jerk back, but he doesn’t scare me. He has that small-dick syndrome and he’s all talk. He isn’t even a blip on my radar. Rolling my eyes, I kick off to go to the boards where Dad directed us, but then I hear an oomph and some of the guys laughing. Looking over my shoulder, I see McCarthy lying on his stomach as Jayden looms over him.

“Talk to her like that again, and we are going to have a problem,” he says in a very stone-cold way and then he skates off, passing me like it’s nothing. As I watch his retreating back, I look back at McCarthy as he glares at me.

What the fuck was that?

Looking back at Jayden, I follow him to where our line is lining up as I try to process that. Surely, he isn’t sticking up for me? No way, that’s outrageous. You don’t stick up for the girl you didn’t want. It doesn’t make sense.

Going behind Jace with Reeves behind me, I wait as Dad explains the drill. It’s very basic stuff, and it’s always how he starts off all camps. He does peewee shit first to make sure that everyone knows what they are doing. And the ones who don’t have a one-way ticket to the juniors. Zoning out, I do everything not to look behind me where I know Jayden is leaned up against the boards.

“Baylor, right?”

Looking over my shoulder, I meet a very welcoming smile that is downright contagious, which is probably why I smile back. His skin is the color of chocolate, he has light hazel eyes, and he’s a good seven feet tall. I don’t look up at a lot of guys, but I find my head all the way back as I talk to him. “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.”

“You too. I’m Markus. I’ve seen you play back at the World Juniors.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised by that.

“Yeah, so while some dudes might be douches, I’m glad you’re on the team.”

“Thanks,” I say with a nod before turning to look at the back of Jace’s helmet, but then he is looking back at me. His green eyes are flaming into mine.

“So you can talk to him but not me?”

I shrug. “Nothing to say to
you
.”

“Hey, it ain’t my fault, okay? We can be friends,” he says, his face so adorable. He’s so cute, it’s kinda hard to glare at him.

Not really.

“No, we can’t,” I say and then I lean in. “Not when your brother is public enemy number one—which, by the way, if you say anything about that, I will murder you. Slowly, with a stick in your butt…unless you are into that kind of thing.”

He laughs as he shakes his head. “Whatever, you’re gonna like me, not try to sodomize me.”

“I don’t like anyone,” I answer with a shrug.

“We will see,” he says before tapping my shin with his stick.

I shake my head since his charm is kind of hard to resist, and he turns right as the whistle blows. Once the drills start, all my nervousness is gone and I’m ready to play. I’m on a winning line. I’ve watched the tapes with Dad, I know that with Jace and Markus, we are going to be a good line. Great even, and once the puck drops, I know that Dad and I were right. We have chemistry off the bat and things are great.

Until Jayden gets involved.

Then all my nervousness is back and shit is going downhill.

Rushing the goal, I send the puck to Jace, who I thought would send to Markus who was waiting by the goal—he could have deflected it in with no problem. But instead, he sends it back to Jayden, who then cuts it hard to me.

And I miss it.

Fanning over the puck, not only making myself look dumb but also pissing my dad the hell off.

“What in the Sam Hill, Moore? Simple pass! Get your head out of your goddamn ass and play!”