Game Changer (5 page)

Duke wrung his hands. “I was thinking we could send the wives off for a spa weekend or something, and it could just be all of us at the cabin on Saturday and Sunday, for old time's sake before Brandon leaves.”

Liam slammed his locker door. “I don't go anywhere without my wife.”

None of the guys challenged that pronouncement or teased him about the romantic needs of being a newlywed, as they often did with the guys on the team who got married. As a result of severe PTSD from his time in the army, Liam McAllister hadn't coped well with civilian life until he'd gotten with Marlena. The two were joined at the hip, which would've been torture if it'd happened to Brandon, but the arrangement worked for Liam and Marlena. Brandon had never seen Liam so relaxed and free of anger and anxiety.

“Well, that's different,” Duke said. “Of course Marlena's welcome. She's the team yoga instructor and masseuse.”

Nice save, Duke.

Will swaggered forward, an anarchic look in his eye. “In that case, what about Harper? She's our scorekeeper.” He always did enjoy stirring the pot.

Someone sucked in a pained breath.

Too bad for Will and the others hoping for a bonus train wreck situation between Brandon and Harper, because there was no way Harper would agree to bunking with the hockey team at Duke's place for a slumber party. As it was, Brandon was killing himself to get her out of her brick fortress to go to Miami, and she was only going kicking and screaming.

Duke, oblivious to the loaded situation between Brandon and Harper, said, “Well, sure. I mean, if Marlena's there, then Harper would give her another woman to talk to.”

The guys stole glances at Brandon, hoping for a reaction, but all he did was smile and pull Duke in for a one-arm hug. “Thank you, Duke. A party sounds great. I'd love the chance to spend one last epic weekend with you all before I go.”

Duke slapped his back. “Can't believe you're leaving. I've been coaching this team for a long time and, over the years, players have come and gone. I know you've only been here for five years, but it's been—” The strain in his voice choked off the last of his sentence. Duke released Brandon and looked away, clearing his throat.

The guys were quiet, their eyes averted, giving Duke time to collect himself. Brandon then squeezed Duke's shoulder. “I'm going to miss you, too, man. So much. I'll never forget all you've done for me.”

Duke swiped his hand through the air. “Get on out there and warm up. I'll be along in a sec.”

The team took the hint. They gathered their gear and stomped on their skates through the hall, then through the team bench and onto the ice rink. The place still smelled like cookies, damn it, but the aroma wasn't nearly as strong on the ice as it had been near the entrance.

There was a smattering of cheers as they took the ice. It was still more than an hour until game time, but some folks liked to arrive early to and get their choice of seats and watch the players warm up.

Harper was there already. She avoided looking directly at Brandon as she set up the scorekeeper's table. A few bleachers away, a young woman Brandon had never seen before cheered loudly, pumping her fists in the air and bouncing in rhythm with her cheers, her long-sleeve crop top and short shorts providing lots of excellent jiggling in all the right places.

Brandon swiveled around to skate backward and caught Gabe's attention. “Who's the puck bunny?”

Gabe didn't take his eyes off her as he answered. “I don't know, but she's definitely got talent.”

Will slid to a stop in front of them without warning, nearly causing a whole-team pileup. He smacked Gabe's helmet with his stick. “Knock it off, you guys. Before Duke hears you. Don't you recognize her? Jesus!” He shook his head, disgusted, his eyes on the ice.

“Never seen her before,” Brandon said, looking her over again. He'd definitely remember a girl like that. “Who—”

But Brandon's question was cut off when Duke's voice reverberated across the ice. “Kayla Ray! Well, I'll be damned. Sweetie, what a fantastic surprise! Hey, everyone, this is my granddaughter, Kayla. Kayla, say hi to my team.”

Seemingly oblivious to the horrified gasps and cringes from the team, Kayla Ray bounced again, this time waving at the team. “Hi, boys!”

On her next bounce, her top pulled up, revealing the underside of what looked like a bright pink bra.

“Oh, shit,” Gabe said, wrenching his face away.

Oh, shit was right because Brandon had seen enough of Kayla Ray's type to know she was nothing but trouble. Big time.

Brandon decided to follow Gabe's lead and refocused his attention on the dark rectangle of the hallway entrance behind the team bench. “Yeah, I'm just going to look over here for a few minutes. Let me know when she's gone.”

“That's more like it,” Will grumbled. “Show Duke some respect.” Will stood taller, as though protecting Duke's kin was his personal responsibility. Which he probably did feel, since he didn't have any family of his own and Duke had more or less adopted him when he'd moved to Destiny Falls. Will rented out the converted garage behind Duke's house, worked for him in his general contracting business, and sometimes went to church with him and his wife, Donna.

“She must not live around here because I've never seen her before,” Gabe said.

“She hasn't been around recently because most of the time Duke goes to Raleigh to spend Christmas with his daughter, but a couple years back, his daughter and her family came up for the holidays instead. Kayla was in high school then, and, uh”—Will chanced a look over his shoulder—“it looks like her fashion choices haven't changed much since then.”

“Dude, that sucks,” Gabe said with a groan.

“Tell me about it. I looked at a lot of walls that Christmas.”

Theo cursed in French, as a Quebecois like him was prone to do. “Back up. She was only in high school a couple years ago? I've only got eyes for Allison, but I still feel like a dirty old man for even noticing that awful bouncing thing she's doing.”

“Same here,” Gabe said. “I wasn't trying to look, I swear. I respect Duke too much to have these images stuck in my head. I need a cold shower before he kills me.”

Liam burst out with a hard laugh and pushed off into a glide, accelerating around them, his stick in his hands. “Give it up, losers. We have a game to win. Stop thinking about who's bouncing on the sidelines and start warming up something other than your dicks.”

Nobody moved to follow him.

Brandon checked to see if the coast was clear for them to turn around, but the first things he saw was Harper's tits nestled in one of his favorite low-cut tops as she set up the scorekeeper's table. The second thing he saw was the whites of Kayla's thighs and the creases of her ass cheeks peeking out from the short shorts she wore as she bent across the table to shake Harper's hand.

He whipped his face back to look at the wall. “This'd better be a fast family reunion. I don't think I can handle much more of this.”

Duke slipped through the door from the ice to the stands, jogging around the rink to where Kayla stood next to the scorekeeper's table. “Hey, knuckleheads, stop being rude and come meet my granddaughter.”

Theo cursed again. Will made a weird strangling sound.

“Damn,” Gabe said.

All Brandon could think to say was, “Ditto.” Big time.

The team glided across the ice as though they were traveling through custard. They formed a semicircle on the ice in front of the scorekeeper's table, their gazes on their skates and sticks.

“Team, this is my oldest grandchild, Kayla.”

The greeting was reciprocated by a handful of grunts and halfhearted hellos. The less-than-enthusiastic welcome was embarrassing, so Brandon, as the team captain, manned up. He skated forward, sticking his glove under his arm to pull it off so he could shake her hand.

“Great to meet you. I'm Brandon.” He even managed a smile, not too big, not too lascivious. Or so he hoped.

“This is Brandon's last game. He's moving soon. Too soon.”

“Ah, hello,” Kayla said.

“And Will, you remember Kayla, right? I think you're the only player on the team who's met her before.”

Will didn't look up from his skates but for a solitary, fleeting glance.

“I remember you, Will,” Kayla said. “You're the guy who lives in my grandpa's backyard.”

Duke gave an uncomfortable chuckle. “Saying he lives in my backyard makes him sound like a stray dog.”

“He kinda is, when you think about it,” Gabe mumbled.

Will jabbed his stick into Gabe's side. “Screw you, jackass.”

Kayla's hands found her hips as she sized Will up. “Oh, you are alive in there. I wasn't sure.”

Will opened and closed his mouth, then hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Liam was right. I've got to go warm up for the game.”

Most of the players saw their window of opportunity and followed Will, but Brandon figured it was his obligation to stay and represent the team.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” Duke said. “I mean, don't get me wrong; you're a sight for sore eyes, but we didn't expect to see you until Thanksgiving. Is everything all right?”

“Sort of. I'm sorry I sprang this visit on you. I should've called. It was a last-minute decision because I need a place to crash for a little while.”

Duke's face fell. “Trouble with your folks?”

Kayla surveyed the crowd around her, namely Harper, Brandon, and a handful of other players, and turned self-conscious. “Yeah. They're pretty upset with me right now, but we should talk about that after the game. In private.”

Brandon's first thought was
uh-oh.
He eyed her bare, flat stomach, wondering how far along a woman had to be before she started showing. He darted a look at Harper, whose eyes widened, though he wasn't entirely sure what she was emoting to him. Seemed like disgust.

Was he out of line to wonder if Kayla's trouble was sex-related?

“You're not pregnant, are you?” Duke asked. That set Brandon's mind at ease. He wasn't the only one whose mind had gone there.

Kayla looked outraged, not unlike Harper had looked a moment earlier. “What? No. Of course not. I know how to take care of myself.”

Duke let out a nervous chuckle. “That's a relief. Whatever disagreement you're having with your parents, I'm sure it'll blow over soon. We'll talk tonight. Your grandmother will know what to say to your folks to help smooth things out.”

“It's not going to blow over. They're pissed at me because”—she drew up tall—“Okay, I'll just tell you now. I enlisted in the Marine Corps and my folks were—”

Duke's shoulders hiked up and his eyes went wide. “You what? Tell me you're kidding. I'd rather you'd told me you're knocked up.”

The remaining Bomb Squad players glided away without a sound. Brandon should have probably joined them, but he had a feeling Duke might appreciate him running interference should his conversation with Kayla turn heated.

Kayla's face pulled back, as though his reaction had caught her off-guard once again. “No, I'm not kidding. My parents were really mad when they found out, but I know what I want. I didn't tell them until after I signed up because I knew they'd just try to change my mind.”

“Damn right. That's exactly what I'm going to try to do, too.”

Her look of shock turned wounded. “Boot camp starts in six weeks and I need some place to live until then. I came here because I thought you were the only person who would understand why I have to do this.”

“No, I don't understand.”

“I've wanted to be a soldier my whole life. You're the one who encouraged me.”

Worry lines buffeted Duke's eyes and mouth. “I most certainly did not.”

“Duke,” Brandon said under his breath. He'd planned to suggest that Duke take a ten-minute breather from the conversation, but he was unable to get Duke's attention, much less another word in edgewise.

“You taught me how to shoot,” Kayla said. “You told me stories about when you were a marine. You've always told me how I remind you of yourself when you were younger.”

“You're a girl. A goddamn girl. The corps is no place for you.”

“Duke,” Brandon said more loudly. “Let's take a break.”

Kayla had turned pale. “When did you turn sexist, Grandpa? You always told me I could do whatever I wanted. And now I'm just a goddamn girl? You sound like my parents.”

Okay, enough with subtlety. Brandon didn't see this line of discussion heading anywhere but from bad to worse. Brandon tapped his stick on the plastic sheeting. “Duke, I need a word with you in the locker room. Right now.”

“Can't you see I'm trying to drill some sense into my granddaughter?”

Harper slid between Duke and Kayla, her arm around Kayla. “Wow. The marines. Congratulations are in order. That's huge. Come sit with me at the scorekeeper's table and tell me more about it.”

Kayla seemed relieved by the shift in tone and rewarded Harper with a smile. “Thank you.” She paired her words with a little bounce that made her body jiggle in all the right places.

Brandon flinched and turned to watch his teammates skating a slow circle on the far side of the rink.

“Harper, you're out of line,” Duke said.

Not even close. In fact, time to run tag-team interference. “I was in the army, so I can't help you out much,” Brandon said. “I'm happy to answer any questions I can, and we've got several former marines on the team who can give you the lowdown on boot camp and anything I can't help you with. Either Will or Dante would be glad to help.”

Kayla nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Cool. I didn't know Will was a marine. I'll ask him about it later.”

“Kayla, go with Harper. We'll talk more after the game,” Duke said through clenched teeth. “Brandon, you're right about us needing a word in private.”

Brandon watched Duke slip through the door from the bleachers to the team bench, then followed him into the hallway that led to the locker room.

The moment they were out of sight, Duke grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Brandon had the utmost respect for Duke and allowed himself to be backed into the wall, though he could have easily bested the older man.

“Duke, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to encourage her, but there's no sense fighting with her if she already enlisted. She knows what she wants.”

“Oh, I'll deal with Kayla on my own terms, thank you.” He squinted at Brandon, his eyes dark and angry. Even though Brandon knew Duke was merely venting and he didn't mean anything personal by the outburst, it still threw him off to see his mentor and one of the greatest men he'd ever met turn violent.

“Here's the deal,” Duke hissed. “Until you leave on Monday, I'm holding you personally responsible for seeing that my granddaughter, the light of my life, is respected by the team. Anyone so much as looks at her a fraction longer than appropriate or treats her like anything other than their little sister and their ass is off the team. Especially if they're one of the team's top scorers and have a perpetual hard-on for vulnerable young women like her.”

Just like that, the anger in Duke's eyes did turn personal. Brandon was one of the team's two top scorers and the other man was engaged to Allison Whitley. Brandon had never minded his reputation as a lothario before—he'd earned that rep fair and square. But it hurt to hear Duke accuse him of taking advantage of the women he hooked up with and, even more, that he didn't automatically assume that Brandon would respect Duke's flesh and blood.

Brandon had slept with dozens of
Kaylas
over the years, in their early twenties with tight, tanned bodies and brazen senses of self. But he didn't need to be told not to mess with Duke's kin. That went without saying. Frankly, he didn't see how he could ever look at another hot, toned college girl again without thinking that she was someone's granddaughter.

“There's no need to issue a threat to me because I would never disrespect you like that. None of the guys would. I'm sorry your expectations of us, of me, are so low.”

Regret and fear warred in Duke's eyes. He released Brandon's neck and wiped his hand on his slacks. “When Kayla was a baby, she called me Papa Duck because she couldn't say ‘Duke.' She wore a blue superhero cape every day for a year after her third birthday, slept with it and everything. Just an itty-bitty thing, but full of so much spit and vinegar, even back then.”

He slumped forward, gripping Brandon's sleeve. Whether it was for support or emphasis, Brandon couldn't be sure. “The Marine Corps is going to destroy my little girl. If boot camp doesn't, then deployment will. I've seen that with too many soldiers who find me and Bomb Squad after they've been broken beyond repair. Their minds are as messed up as their bodies, and those are tough-as-nails men, not a young, impressionable woman. I've seen the way women are treated in the service; I've heard stories.”

Brandon's heart went out to Duke and to the rest of the family struggling with Kayla's choice. If Brandon had a daughter, he'd do everything he could to talk her out of that life. There was nothing Brandon could say to allay Duke's very legitimate fears. She might come back broken or her mental health shredded. She might not come back at all.

But Kayla's mind was already made up, so there was nothing to do but find a kernel of hope and hang on to it tightly. “You said it yourself: Kayla's tough. Spit and vinegar, right? She's going to be okay.”

“What if she's not? All I know is that the minute she steps off the bus for boot camp, there won't be anyone to look out for her, no threats I can issue to make sure she comes back to me safe and alive and in one piece. I know you wouldn't disrespect her or me, but let me have this one, son. Give an old man the chance to feel like he has control over something when it comes to the people he loves.”

Any lingering offense at Duke's threats about Brandon keeping his hands off Kayla evaporated. He was just a scared grandpa, and Brandon was a safe target to vent his fears to. He gave Duke's shoulder an affectionate shake. “I've always said, coming home in one piece is overrated.”

Not that he was making light of his brothers-in-arms who'd been severely injured and to whom life would always be a constant struggle as a result. Brandon respected them above all—they were one of the major reasons he was doing
Meet the Groom
—but the guys on Bomb Squad were living proof of how to live life to the fullest with a disability and, in Brandon's case, coming home a limb short had been the best thing to ever happen to him.