Another shot, p.1
Another Shot, page 1
part #1 of A Wildcatters Hockey Book Series
Another Shot
A Wildcatters Hockey Book
Alexa Padgett
Sidecar Press, Inc.
Contents
Another Shot
Another Shot
1. Cormac
2. Cormac
3. Keelie
4. Cormac
5. Keelie
6. Cormac
7. Keelie
8. Cormac
9. Keelie
10. Cormac
11. Keelie
12. Cormac
13. Keelie
14. Cormac
15. Keelie
16. Cormac
17. Keelie
18. Cormac
19. Keelie
20. Cormac
21. Keelie
22. Cormac
23. Keelie
24. Cormac
25. Keelie
26. Keelie
27. Cormac
28. Keelie
29. Cormac
30. Keelie
31. Cormac
32. Keelie
33. Keelie
34. Cormac
35. Keelie
36. Cormac
37. Keelie
38. Keelie
39. Cormac
40. Keelie
41. Cormac
42. Keelie
43. Cormac
44. Keelie
45. Cormac
46. Keelie
47. Cormac
48. Keelie
49. Cormac
50. Keelie
51. Cormac
52. Keelie
53. Cormac
54. Keelie
55. Keelie
56. Cormac
57. Cormac
Epilogue
Preview of Another Hit
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Alexa Padgett
Another Shot
A Wildcatters Hockey Book
Book 2
Alexa Padgett
Another Shot
The only ice he fears is the frozen wall protecting her battered heart…
Keelie Hayes has fast and hard rules about life and love. And those rules have served her well, keeping her heart safe from being broken again, her trust from another painful shattering.
Until hockey star Cormac Bouchard skated onto the scene with his charm and scorching sensual gaze only for her and changed the whole game. Keelie’s no longer sure about her rules, but she’s throwing up every frosty defense possible to keep from dreaming of that coveted shot at forever.
Cormac makes no excuses for the poor choices he’s made on and off the ice. He’s done the work, put in the hours, and served his time in life’s penalty box. Now all he wants is a place to belong–and to take his Wildcatters to the NHL finals. They’ve become the family he’s always wanted, and he can’t let them down.
But his normally iron-willed focus fails him when it comes to the beautiful ice queen he wants to melt in the hottest ways possible. If only he could earn her precious trust. Which would mean finally pushing beyond his own painful past to be the partner she deserves and the man he desperately wants to be.
Easier said than done.
Dare he go all-in on a long-shot love that just might heal both their pasts and redeem a future neither ever dreamed possible?
For Samantha. Thank you for asking me to write hockey romances. I’ve fallen in love with this team, and these men and women. I hope you do, too.
Copyright © 2022 by Alexa Padgett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, things living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Edited by Jessica Royer Ocken
Cover design by Chris Philpot
Chapter 1
Cormac
I slammed my opponent into the boards, grinning behind my mouth guard as his helmet connected with the Plexiglas barrier with a resounding thunk. The whistle blared, and my shoulders tensed. Coach was already screaming, and for the first time in my career, the local fans booed me.
“Never talk about my wife again,” I snarled.
Dukovsky gasped as he fell, his left pupil tiny, the right blown. Good. The fucker had a concussion.
“Ex-wife. She doesn’t want you no more,” he said in his thick, accented Russian.
I pulled off my gloves, intent on pummeling the rookie’s face in—not just for these words, but for claiming he’d fucked Shannon. That she’d let him touch her.
Didn’t matter that she’d served me papers, told me she couldn’t be the wife I deserved or the mother to my children.
This twenty-year-old claimed my wife had taken him to her bed last week—to our bed, in the loft I owned. I swallowed bile as his next whispered words swirled through my head.
“Your ex-wife’s pert ass has the cutest hockey tattoo. Good thing I play number twenty-two, too.”
The only way he could know that was if he’d seen Shannon’s naked body. That small double-digit was so high on her left butt cheek that it wasn’t visible even when she wore a swimsuit.
He’d been inside of her. As I stared down into his smug face, I knew it. And I also knew she’d done it to force me to sign the papers.
I barely heard the refs toss me from the game. I never caught my coach’s angry words.
None of it mattered. Not now.
Shannon had told me she didn’t want kids—never wanted them. I hadn’t believed her, hadn’t wanted to consider she’d keep something so essential from me. But she’d told me again when I suggested we try. She’d freaked out when she went off the pill, struggling to let me be intimate with her. When she started taking the birth control again, she cried tears of joy. She’d told me her position on children for the last time when she handed me the divorce papers.
I planned to sign the damn papers and give her what she wanted, because I’d always given Shannon what she wanted. She was the love of my life, and though it pained me to move out of our home, to un-link my life from hers, I’d assumed, naively, that she just needed some time.
But that wasn’t it at all. Instead, she was telling me she’d left me behind. I should have realized that when she accepted the high-powered position at a Montreal law firm where she now worked ninety-hour weeks. Rarely did she return my calls, and she never showed interest in getting together when I was in town.
But she’d kept our—my—loft, and I’d stupidly thought that meant something.
Until Dukovsky opened his mouth and spewed shit all over my future.
Now I wondered if I’d ever known Shannon.
I sat in the locker room for the rest of the game, head bowed, not answering the staff’s questions. I didn’t even bother to raise my head when the rest of the team trailed in, quiet enough for me to know we’d lost. And I didn’t hear Coach Gauthier bark my name.
My best friend, Pete, nudged my shoulder. Anger sat below the pity in his eyes. “Coach called you in.”
I stood, my muscles groaning because I hadn’t stretched. I met each teammate’s gaze on my way toward Gauthier’s office, giving them ample time to question me. Each one dropped his eyes. Felix, my other good friend and our goalie, clamped his jaw tight, just as angry as Pete was. The rest of the guys… They might hate me, too. I’d cost us a playoff game. They had every right to be angry.
I opened the door, my heart in my throat. Without Shannon, hockey was all I had left. But I’d fucked it up out there. Badly.
“You’ll get a suspension,” Gauthier said, his voice growly as he struggled to remain calm.
I hung my head.
“Which means we’re without our best defensive lineman. For the rest of the fucking finals.”
Inhaling through my nose, I remained silent. My hands fisted. Had I let Shannon take my career, too? Hockey paid for her to attend that fancy law school. My salary paid for the loft, her sweet little Mercedes. Oh, she’d liked the trappings of my life—just not enough to have my kids and tie herself to me forever. That’s what I thought we’d agreed to when we exchanged vows seven years ago.
I ignored the throb in my right fist. Dukovsky had deserved each punch.
“Nothing to say?” Gauthier made a disgusted sound. “I expected more out of you, Cormac.”
He glared as I clenched my jaw. “I fucked up.”
Gauthier leaned forward. “No kidding. That’s why I’m considering the request that came in for you. You might be a dominant player, but you may well have cost those guys out there a championship. All because of one mouthy rookie.”
I swallowed again.
“It’s to the expansion team,” Gauthier continued, his face reddening. “Before tonight, I never would have put your name on the list. Now you’re a liability.”
I dropped my gaze. Yeah, I was. And Dukovsky could end up with the Cup because I’d loved the wrong woman.
“All year you’ve been hot-tempered, unable to keep your head in the game.” Gauthier shook his head. “That’s not the player I signed on this team. And that’s not a man I want here.”
I nodded once, not lifting my gaze from my skates. This was worse than signi ng the damn papers. This was my career.
“Don’t bother suiting up anymore. Soon as those boys finish the season, you’re gone.”
At least I could still play hockey. Sure, it was an expansion team in Houston, a city I knew nothing about, in a state I found miserably hot…
I settled on the bench back out in the locker room, still not bothering to remove my sweater or pads. I stared at my skates and waited for the rest of the guys to clean up. Once the locker room was empty, I removed my gear, my hand lingering on my sweater before I balled it into the laundry bin. I took a long shower, hoping the heat would release the ache of the lactic acid built up in my legs. No such luck. I dressed with methodical precision and exited the building with my head down.
My car was an older-model SUV I’d had for the last seven years. I’d never gotten myself something new; instead, I’d bought Shannon a car. As I approached, Pete leaned against the side of it, looking relaxed.
“Guess it didn’t go well with Gauthier,” he said.
“He’s sending me to the expansion team.”
Pete cursed. “Houston? What do they know about hockey?”
“Does it matter? I cost you guys the game, maybe the title.”
Pete rested both hands on my shoulders. “You’re good, Bouchard, but you’re only one defenseman. We’re a team. You don’t have to shoulder this alone.”
I glanced away, jaw tight. “Yeah. I do. I should have known better—”
“Than to love your wife? Hell, I still don’t get it. Shan loves you, too. Everyone can see it. What happened?”
I met his gaze, and everything cracked open. “She doesn’t love me enough to have a child with me. Her career, the one I paid for her to get, is more important to her. And she fucked Dukovsky to make sure I understood where I live on her list of priorities.”
Pete’s mouth dropped open. Then his gaze narrowed. “That’s what Dukovsky said? He talked about your wife?”
I nodded once, unable to say more.
“That little sack of shit,” he growled. “Did you tell Gauthier what he said?”
I shook my head.
“Not to Houston! We’ll talk to him tomorrow, explain—”
I shook my head again, harder. “No. This is what I need. I let her own my head. I put her before everything. And look where that got me.”
“Sent to freaking Texas! They don’t understand what a puck is—”
“And that’s my fault. I shouldn’t have allowed Dukovsky to get to me.”
Pete scoffed. “Shannon shouldn’t have done you like that.”
“But she did. And I have to live with letting you all down instead of stepping up like the veteran I’m supposed to be.”
“So Houston’s your punishment?”
“Appears so. And maybe…maybe a fresh start.” I laid my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t want to see her again, Pete.”
He looked away. “Yeah, I get that. I see how much you love her.”
“Loving her was a mistake.” I moved around Pete and entered my car. “I’ll tell the boys goodbye, if you think they’ll let me.”
Pete shook his head. “They’re pretty angry about the loss.”
“Yeah. Right. Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
He met my gaze. “Me, too.”
I slammed my door shut and started my car. I backed out of the spot and drove toward my small apartment, the one I’d always known was temporary.
Apparently it was, but not for the reason I’d hoped. I wasn’t moving back to my sun-filled loft with creaky hardwoods and a fabulous view of downtown Toronto. I was moving to Houston to finish my career on an expansion team that would be lucky to place above last.
My career was as dead as my marriage.
When I got home, I signed the divorce papers sitting on the kitchen counter, exhaustion blanketing me as I finished. Pulling my stuff out of my bag, I set my wallet and phone on the cardboard box I used as a nightstand.
My phone lit up as soon as I turned it on. I sneered at Shannon’s name.
I’m so sorry about tonight, Mac.
She’d broken us and nearly broken me. I couldn’t care less what she did now. I was done with her. Done with everything here.
I hit block and powered down my phone.
Chapter 2
Cormac
Five years later
“I can’t believe you gave Shannon tickets to your game,” Pete said.
I shrugged. “She’ll be in town for a conference. She loves hockey.”
Over the years of seeing Shannon at my parents’ place during my infrequent visits and her continued attempts to stay connected, I’d thawed my angry stance against my ex-wife. She and I had slowly settled into a comfortable, even close relationship.
The silence built for so long, I fidgeted, shifting my phone against my ear.
“You shouldn’t be so friendly with your ex-wife,” he finally said. “Especially one who got you banished to Siberia.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Houston is opposite of Siberia—no snow, lots of people, culture…”
“You talk about the city as if you like it.”
I looked out at The Galleria and Westheimer along the Houston skyline from the second-floor windows of my Rivercrest home. With four bedrooms total on the three-plus-acre estate, my house was modest compared to those of many of my teammates who’d moved into the area. But I lived alone and didn’t see that changing, ever. The house was much more than I needed, but it was close to the arena, many of the city’s best restaurants, world-class medical facilities, and two airports. Houston’s driving culture had taken some time to get used to, but now I couldn’t imagine living in a loft in the heart of Toronto.
A small smile formed on my lips as I remembered my awe at the size of the place Shannon and I had chosen—and how it had cost more than my four-thousand-square-foot home here in Houston.
“I do like it,” I replied. “And I’ll take you to the Vietnamese place you loved so much when you visited last summer.”
I’d rarely traveled home to Toronto since the divorce. My mother hadn’t forgiven me for not working out my issues with Shannon and giving her grandbabies, and I was angry with my mother for pushing Shannon toward motherhood before she was ready—not that Shannon seemed ready even now.
“I love that place,” Pete muttered. “How did your Hockey Siberia turn out to be such a good move?”
“Maybe because Coach Whittaker made me captain.”
Pete grunted. “He sure whipped your band of misfits into shape.”
I smiled. “Sure did.”
“I didn’t expect you to be in serious running for the Cup.”
“Not this soon anyway.”
“If things shake out as they look like they will, you’ll play your old team for it.”
“Don’t jinx us. We have more than a quarter of the season left.” I paused. “That said, I’ll feel a little bad about you, but beating Gauthier and Dukovsky will be sweet.”
Pete grunted. “I bet. Gauthier feels bad about the whole situation. You could have explained what happened—”
“He could have asked, too, instead of assuming the worst and bulldozing me. He undercut me to the team. I couldn’t stay there after that interaction with my coach.”
