Behind the Net (Vancouver Storm, #1)

by Stephanie Archer

An idea hits me. Hazel’s right—if I show up and demand my job back, he’ll think I’m a psycho. If I show up with cupcakes, though, I’ll just be reinforcing what a great assistant I’d be. No one calls the police on someone who brings cupcakes.

“How’d you get upstairs?” She needs a key or to be buzzed in. She waves me off. “The guys from yesterday remembered me, and I gave them cupcakes.” Of course they let her up. This woman could talk a cop into handing over his gun. All she’d have to do is smile and flick her ponytail, and he’d be like, you want the bullets, too? There’s a weird, funny pressure in my chest, and for the first time in so long, I feel the urge to smile.

There’s no way I can tell her the truth—that she’s the girl I was obsessed with for two years in high school.

“It’s not your body. Your coochie knew Zach was a colossal loser.” “Stop talking about my coochie.” “Your coochie wants action!” she shouts at the forest, and I sputter with laughter, trying to cover her mouth. “Give your coochie what she wants!”

“I was thinking you could go with her.” My expression is dubious. “You know I don’t know anything about hockey, right?” His face relaxes, and he makes a noise that’s almost a laugh. Almost. Like an amused hum. “That’s okay. She doesn’t care. Just keep her company.” “I can do that. Is she grumpy like you?” I blurt it out without thinking. The more Jamie and I hang out, the easier it is to tease him like this. This is a hell of a lot better than the tense, awkward silences. He arches an eyebrow, and something bubbles up inside me. It feels like delight. “No.” Even though he isn’t smiling, his eyes glitter, encouraging me. I make an overexaggerated face of relief. “Good. That would be a long night.” He stares at me, and I flatten my mouth so I don’t laugh. It feels like he wants to smile, and my heart is bouncing around in my chest like a ping-pong ball. If I had seen this version of Jamie in high school, I’d have been a full-out stalker. “Very funny,” he says instead.

Maybe I spoke too soon about my underwear.

“That’s a great idea. The world needs more people like you.” She stares at him. “I thought you were supposed to be an asshole.” Jamie looks at me, and something glints in his eyes. “Did you tell her that?” “Um.” I blink. “No?” Very convincing, Pippa. I wince, but I’m smiling. “I mean, you did fire me.”

“The last time I played for someone, they laughed at me.” Her voice is quiet. Rage surges through my veins. I’ll kill them. “Who?” I demand in a low, lethal voice. “Tell me. Names. Now.” She rolls her eyes. “Jamie.” “Now.”

I give her a squeeze. “You can do it. I got back on the ice, and it was okay. Remember when my mom had a panic attack? You nailed it, songbird. You did everything right. You’re tough as nails deep down, I know it.” Her brow rises. “Songbird?” I didn’t mean to call her that—it just slipped out. It’s perfect for her, though. “Mhm.” She bites her bottom lip. She wants to do it. I know she does. “Tell you what.” I give her arms another squeeze while I study the blue of her eyes. “Half a song. That’s all.” The long line of her throat moves as she swallows, gaze locked on mine like I’m a life raft. I want to be that for her.

There’s a pressure in my chest, warm and crackling, like laughter. My mouth hitches into a smirk. “No.” “Stubborn, too,” she mutters, and I smile at her. She freezes, watching my face with a funny look. Like awe or something. “What?” “You’re smiling.” Her pretty lips curve into her own smile. Her gaze roams my face, and my skin prickles with awareness.

Jamie Streicher’s smile captivates me. Even after his mouth is back to the normal cruel slash, the warm glint remains in his eyes.

You’re tough as nails, deep down. I know it. That’s what Jamie said. He also called me songbird.

Jamie’s still watching and listening. Something glitters in my chest, just a pinch of it, fine but sparkling. Zach wasn’t the one for me, but the way Jamie’s making me feel right now, so safe and special and supported… maybe I’ll find that feeling again.

Jamie leans forward, eyes on me. “You wrote that?” I nod. My heart thumps in my chest. He studies me before he growls and shakes his head, almost to himself. “That guy was never good enough for you. Not in high school and not now. I hope you fucking see that.”

“I remember you,” I admit. “Of course I remember you.” His expression stills. “You do?” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Jamie. Come on. You were on your way to the NHL. You were one of the popular kids. All the girls swooned over you. You were gorgeous, even back then—” His eyebrow goes up, and there’s that look again. Teasing, focused, and determined. “You think I’m gorgeous?” Sparks dance up my throat, and I swallow. I’m blushing. “Uh,” I say stupidly. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You said even back then. That means you thought I was gorgeous then, and you think I’m gorgeous now.” My pulse beats in my ears and I can’t look away. His gaze pins me like a butterfly under glass. My lips part and close as I scramble for what to say. Busted. I’m so busted, and now that he clearly knows I’ve had the most massive crush on him forever, it’s going to be awkward.

“I thought you were gorgeous, too,” he murmurs, looking at me in a way that makes me feel like I can’t breathe. “Even back then.”

He’ll devastate me. After Zach, I’m full of cracks. I can’t have feelings for Jamie, because if it ends like it did with Zach—which it will—I’ll smash.

I remember the smile that grew on her face as she kept playing and singing, like she was proud and surprised. My heart twists and I rub my sternum over my hockey pads. Fucking hell, she was so beautiful, and knowing she was afraid to do it made me so proud. I hope she knows she isn’t broken. I hope she realizes what she’s capable of.

She’s here again tonight with my mom. Sparks pop in my chest at the idea of Pippa watching my game. Maybe biting her plush bottom lip in tense moments. “Streicher.” My head snaps up. Ward and everyone else in the change room are staring at me. “You okay?” Ward tilts his chin at where I’m rubbing my sternum. I let my hand drop. “Yeah.” I nod. “Fine.”

I head to my net, centering myself. In front of the goal posts, I warm up, and my gaze locks with Pippa’s. She’s sitting behind the net with my mom and my mom’s friend. Pippa’s wearing a Vancouver Storm hat. I blink, staring at her in it, and those sparks ignite in my chest all over again. She lights up, lifting her hand in a quick, shy wave that makes the corner of my mouth tip up. I wave back, and the frustration I felt moments before melts away. She points at her hat, and I nod, letting myself smile at her. I like seeing her in my team’s gear. Beside her, my mom is chatting away, smiling. She says something to Pippa, who nods and laughs. My mom likes Pippa and asks about her every time I call, and I like that, too. I like that after the game, Pippa and Daisy will be at home.

“Something funny, songbird?” His voice is a low murmur, and a shiver runs down my back. I smile wider. “Nope.” His eyes dance, and even though his mouth is in a flat line, his gaze is warm and amused. “Good. Keep it that way.”

“Tell you what, songbird.” Jamie’s mouth brushes my ear, and there’s that low tug in my belly again. “If you sing a song up there, I’ll go with you to your wrap party. We’ll show your asshole ex who came out on top.”

I meet his gaze, and electricity pulls between us like a cord. I picture walking into the party with Jamie’s arm around me, maybe his mouth brushing my ear the way it did a second ago. I picture the look on Zach’s face—disbelief, shock, and jealousy. I like that idea. “Deal.”

I need to catch my breath, to let my heart settle down. The wall is cool and solid as I lean against it, closing my eyes and dragging in those deep yoga breaths Hazel’s always going on about. Footsteps make my eyes open. Jamie stalks toward me with a furious look on his face. “Wha—” I start. His eyes flash with heat. “That was fucking amazing.” His hand comes to the back of my neck and he drags my mouth to his.

Jamie’s kissing me, his erection is huge, and I’ve definitely lost my mind.

Jamie Streicher is so fucking hot.

What am I doing? He’s hot, protective, and secretly sweet. Kissing him was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. He’s nice to his mom, for god’s sake. He’s the whole package. If I let him, he will devastate me. What Zach did will be a tiny scratch compared to what Jamie could do.

Fuck. Kissing Pippa was incredible. It’s like she was made for me. I shouldn’t have done that, but something about Pippa makes me lose control. I can’t give her more than casual, and I know that’s not enough for her. That isn’t enough for me where she’s concerned, and that terrifies me.

I can’t believe I did that. My eyes close. I said you’re my assistant, but what I meant was you’re special and I don’t want to hurt you. She’s been through the wringer. If I crushed her the way I crushed Erin, I couldn’t live with myself.

Her gaze flicks to mine, and I regret leaving that hallway a few minutes ago.

“That was terrifying,” she tells me. “But I’m happy I did it.” “Playing for everyone?” She nods and glances at me. “Thanks for encouraging me.” My throat tightens as we walk. When she sang tonight, she looked like she was on top of the world. She smiled and sang and played like that fuckface Zach never happened. Like no one had hurt her, or like she had healed from it. I want that for her. I want it so fucking badly.

“Put your hands on my shoulders.” “I’m fine.” “Pippa.” I sigh and set my hands on his shoulders before he slips my shoe on and buckles the delicate strap. “You’re surprisingly nimble.” I crook a grin at him, and as he looks up at me, something hot and smug flashes through his weird mood tonight. “I’m very good with my fingers.” My breath catches in my throat. He’s kneeling in front of me, big hand circling my ankle, telling me how good he is with his fingers, and I picture this scenario going in a very dirty direction.

I’m speechless. I don’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the face.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask as rain taps on the umbrella above us. His throat works as he looks down at me. We’re standing close, and he smells delicious. “I’m sorry.” His eyes pin me, raking over my hair, my face, my collarbone. “You look beautiful.”

“Hey.” Jamie looks down at me, studying my face. “Don’t let them see you scared, songbird.”

“I’m your goalie,” he says. “I’ll block all your shots tonight.” A chuckle escapes me, and I smile at him. The corner of his mouth ticks up, and his eyes fill with affection. For a split second, I wish he’d kiss me again.

“How about a drink?” he murmurs in my ear, and I nod. He leads me over to the bar and orders a whiskey sour for me and a beer for himself. “I’m just going to have one.” His eyes flick to my hair. “I’ll be fine to drive.” “I know.” I laugh quietly. “You’re Mr. Responsible.” His gaze drops to my mouth, and my blood spikes with electricity. “Not always,” he mutters,

“How do you two know each other?” she asks, still gazing at him. His hand returns to my lower back. “I’m her boyfriend.” My thoughts drop off a cliff. His hand slides up my back, over the bare skin of my shoulders, before it rests on the part where my shoulder meets my neck. It’s a possessive gesture that makes my heart beat harder, and every brain cell in my head stumbles. “Yeah,” I say stupidly, staring at him. He winks at me. He winks at me. His mouth curves up on one side, and I’m fascinated by the movement.

“We live in Gastown.” His eyes meet mine and there’s a flash of humor in his gaze just for me.

He pulls back to look down at me, and mischief sparks in his eyes. I’m so intrigued by this version of the surly goalie. “Or we can have some fun,” he whispers, glancing at my mouth. I wilt out of pure horniness. Jamie Streicher is going to kill me tonight.

“Why’d you wear these ridiculous shoes?” I shrug. “Because they’re hot.” His gaze lingers on my legs. “Yeah” is all he says.

“And all this.” His fingers squeeze my hip and his gaze roams my face, my hair, my dress. “It’s not for him?” I laugh in disbelief. “What? Jamie,” I murmur. “Of course it’s not for him.” His nostrils flare, and I have the urge to stroke my finger down his strong nose. “What the fuck am I supposed to think, Pippa?” His green eyes flash and he grips my hip harder. Oh. I like that feeling.

“That’s not the ultimate revenge,” I say softly. His dark eyes meet mine, pinning me. His jaw ticks. My mouth curves into a smile, and I don’t even recognize myself right now. “The ultimate revenge would be fucking you.”

I glance between her eyes and her mouth. “Promise me you’ll never sleep with Zach again.” She chokes. “What?” “Do it,” I demand. I sound like an asshole, and I don’t care. “Promise me, Pippa.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I promise. Oh my god. After what happened? I’m not that stupid.” “I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

“Stop moving,” I grit out. She gives me a look. “Stop stabbing me with that skyscraper.” I choke out a laugh. Only Pippa could make me laugh in this moment.

“You really want to drive the stake into his chest?” I murmur, leaning in and letting my mouth brush her ear. She shudders against me. I wait until she meets my eyes. Christ, her eyes are pretty. “Kiss me,” I tell her.

“Pippa,” I whisper between kisses. She nods, and her mouth seeks mine again. Desire floods my chest, drowning out everything else. Every bad thing I’ve ever seen or that has happened to me evaporates into the atmosphere as I kiss her, like she’s filling me with light. Her hair is silk, and I tilt her open more, so I can get deeper. I need to get deeper. I need her to be fully mine.

I take her hand—it fits perfectly in mine. On the way down the steps, I’m practically carrying her, supporting her arms. She waves goodbye to a few people, and the second we get outside, she deflates. I let her arm go, because now that we’ve left the party, the ruse is over. Something in my gut sinks. That all felt too easy, and I know how dangerous that is. “Oh my god,” she breathes, closing her eyes. “That was a lot.” “Pippa.” I fold my arms over my chest so I don’t do something stupid like touch her hair or waist again. We aren’t pretending anymore. “You killed it.” She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You did.” She smiles up at me. “Thanks to you.” My heart beats harder. “Anytime.” I can’t tell her the truth—that tonight wasn’t a favor to anyone but myself.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” Owens notes, cocking a grin. I stare at him. “How’s your girl doing?” My girl. The words warm my chest. “She’s my assistant,” I say, but it doesn’t sound convincing. “Yeah.” He smirks. “That’s what I meant.” I drink half my beer. “She’s none of your fucking business.” He lets out a loud laugh, head tipping back. “Streicher, relax. I’m not going after Pippa.”

How are things at the apartment this week? I finally settle on because it’s less personal. Quiet, she responds. Daisy misses you. My pulse picks up. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at my screen. I’ll be home before she knows it, I text back. Pippa’s response comes right away. She’s looking forward to it. My mouth curves up. “Holy shit,” Owens says down the table, pointing at me. “He smiles.” I shake my head at him, and I think I’m still smiling. “Fuck off, Owens,” I call down to him, but there’s no bite to my words. He just grins back at me.