Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

For the ones with gentle souls and hearts made of gold.

The best part of my job is being in charge of entitled men who think they’re better than me because they have a dick.

CARVD is one of the hottest spots in the city. Our diners are high-profile athletes, celebrities, and millionaires in town to watch UFC fights and F1 races.

I put everything I have into an innovative menu that changes weekly and draws a crowd. I spend hours experimenting with flavors and technique. I pride myself on learning and evolving as a chef, which is why I’m hesitant to find out why my boss wants to speak to me.

I’ve never hated anyone in my life, but the disdain I have for Lucy’s father is insurmountable.

A month after her diagnosis, Clark left us. He told me he didn’t sign up to raise a child who is “different.” He didn’t want to put in “the work” it would take for her to be happy and taken care of, and the last thing he would ever do is learn sign language.

Lucy, my mini-me, comes barreling into the kitchen, and I’d do anything to protect her.

This will always be my favorite place in the world: with Lucy in my lap, grateful for every second I get with her.

Maverick was in his second year in the league when I was a rookie, and we’ve been buddies from the minute I joined the Stars. Going from the youngest players on the team who used to be troublemakers to the oldest, our teammates looking to us for guidance has brought a kinship between us. He’s easy to talk to. We spend our free time together. He’s been home to Georgia with me for the holidays and has even spent a week or two there during the summer. He stood by my side when my mom passed away. He let me cry on his shoulder at her funeral and told off a reporter for asking about my absence, earning himself a one-game suspension. He’s my best friend in the whole damn world, more like a brother than anything, and to see him hurting hurts me.

Emmy might try to kick your ass, but that’s between y’all.” “I’m most attracted to her when she wants to kick my ass.” His dimpled grin is back.

A week of job searching has left me empty-handed and on the brink of joining OnlyFans.

Every day I’m losing faith I’ll find anything comparable to my previous salary, and every day I’m closer to selling pictures of my feet on the internet.

The Stars are Lucy’s favorite hockey team, and I splurged on tickets when they played in Vegas last season. We sat five rows up from the ice, and after the game, Piper came out of the tunnel with a stack of gear to distribute to waiting fans. She said hello to Lucy, even signed with her for a bit, and gave her one of the players’ jerseys. Luce was beside herself with excitement. The jersey smelled like death and hung all the way down to her feet, but she didn’t care. She wore it around for weeks, and it’s still her favorite item hanging in her closet.

I’m not a big believer in divine intervention. I’ve never gone to church, never believed in miracles, but I’m going to pretend finding this card is courtesy of a guardian angel somewhere out there who is reaching out to me.

The last time I got called to a place where you and Liam both were, it was to sort out the aftermath of your intoxicated nuptials. Did that happen again, Little P? I swear to god if he yelled at you, I’ll put him in his place.”

Her dark hair is long and falls halfway down her back.

WHY IS SHE COOKING WITHOUT HER HAIR UP

“I’m Hudson.” “Hudson.” She wrinkles her nose and puts a hand on her hip. The sauce stain on her apron matches the smudge on her fingers, and my lips twitch at her confusion. “Are you a friend of Piper’s?” I’m used to people knowing who I am, and this is a nice change of pace.

I don’t have to be Hudson Hayes, the NHL superstar. I can be Hudson Hayes, the dog dad who goes to bed at nine every night and prefers to stay out of the limelight.

It’s all the same, isn’t it? You’re trying to get an object in the goal. Match. Game. It doesn’t matter. Go sports!

“For you, Mom,” I say to the empty room. “Always for you.” One of the overhead lights flickers, and I laugh. “Yeah. I know you’re here. You wouldn’t miss this. Sometimes I can still hear you yelling at me to get the rebound.” I pause, my shoulders heavy and my eyes wet with tears. “Fuck. I miss you, Mama.”

“What was with the penalty you got earlier? I saw you chirping that dude.” “He liked one of Emmy’s photos on Instagram last week, and it pissed me off. The hit was worth the two-minute timeout I got in the sin bin.”

His digital footprint is small, and his social media presence is minimal. There aren’t any photos with women on boats in Italy. No blurry snapshots of him cradling a handle of vodka while he dodges paparazzi. The two million Instagram followers he has seem to be devoted fans, and the forty people he follows are his teammates and rescue shelters across the country.

Since we’re being honest with each other, my criteria for this position are low. Unbelievably low. Like, in the depths of hell.” “What are they?” “I’m looking for someone who can cook good food and not look in my underwear drawer. Oh, and to not hit on me.”

“No one’s ever been so thorough with my nutrition before,” he says in a defeated tone, and it makes me mad at everyone who’s been in his kitchen before me. “The only people who have ever mentioned carbohydrates to me are the team’s trainers.”

I promise to keep things professional between us. I don’t date or have personal relationships, so you have nothing to worry about,”

Famous last words

Cooking isn’t rocket science. I should have a handle on this stuff. My mom was great in the kitchen. I grew up watching her cook, make bread and pasta from scratch on top of her full-time job, and put together Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve dinners for our extended family. But I didn’t inherit any of her culinary capabilities.

“Should I get a stopwatch out or something? Do you want me to put on a hat and say yes, chef?” “You sound like you want to make this a game.” “It’s the competitive nature in me,” I offer, and she smirks. “NHL player, remember?” “Oh, I remember. Okay, Hayes. We’ll play by your rules. How much time do I have?” “Thirty minutes.” I pick a random number and grin. “You really think you can make something out of nothing that quick?” “Doubting me already?” “Hell no,” I tell her, and her confidence doesn’t waver. “But I will be impressed. Last I checked, I don’t even have peanut butter in the pantry.”

“Start your clock, hockey guy.”

She reaches for a knife and weighs it in her hand. Keeping her eyes on me, she does that spinning thing again, and I’m on the edge of my seat. I don’t know why I think that’s hot as hell.

“I thought you’d hand me a piece of bread with mayonnaise on it. Not—” I grab the wrap and take a bite. I don’t bother holding back my moan. “Not heaven in the form of ground beef and melted cheese. Hell. This is delicious.” “And you didn’t even have to stop at Taco Bell.” “Yeah. I’m upping your pay to two hundred and fifty thousand, and I’m not going to let you argue with me.”

“Lucy, right?” I ask, and the way Madeline lights up at the mention of her is nothing short of magnificent. Her eyes sparkle and her back straightens. Her smile is full of joy and love, and I bet her daughter is the best kid in the world.

“Thanks for the offer. I’ll see how the apartment search goes, and I’ll let you know. Lucy’s never lived with a man before, but I’ll keep it in mind.” There’s a story there. One about her ex and who I’m assuming is Lucy’s dad. I want to know what happened, but it’s not my place to ask. If she wants to tell me, she’ll tell me on her terms, and that’s fine by me.

“Bury me with these when I die.” I finish my lunch and sit back on my stool. “I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful partnership.” She gives me another smile, a sly and coy one that does something to my chest. “I couldn’t agree more, hockey guy.”

Thanks, hockey guy. Hudson You’re welcome, knife girl.

It was Lucy’s first time on a plane, and I spent the majority of the flight signing to her about the clouds and the sunset outside our window. She was ecstatic about the snack options, and the flight attendant was sweet enough to load us up with a bag to take off the plane.

“Madeline,” he says. “Good to see you. How was the flight? Tell me Hayes put you in first class and not two middle seats in the last row of the airplane.” “We did have first class seats, which meant we got chocolate chip cookies halfway through the flight. Pretty sure Lucy is going to be disappointed sitting in economy from here on out. What are you making for dinner? It smells delicious.” “Chicken parmesan. Piper told me there were no allergies. I hope it’s okay.”

I think this is the longest conversation he's had with anyone other than Piper

Hello, Liam signs. He touches his chest with a flat palm. My. His first two fingers tap the top of his other two fingers in the shape of a cross. Name is. Then he slowly spells out L-I-A-M with the ASL alphabet.

I'M SQUEALING

Lucy lights up. She doesn’t meet many adults who use sign language outside of her classroom and my parents, and I’m not sure he knows what he’s gotten himself into. I’m Lucy. I’m six. How old are you? Do you have any dogs? Or cats? I like cats too. Cat, he tells her. P-I-C-O-D-E-G-A-T-O, he spells, and I laugh.

THIS IS SO SWEET!!!

“A type of salsa is p-i-c-o-d-e-g-a-l-l-o. The Spanish word for cat is g-a-t-o. He combined the words, and his cat is named…” I struggle with how to explain it to her. “Salsa cat.” Salsa cat. She repeats my hand movements, giggling. That is silly, Mommy.

I’m so hungry! I could eat my toe! “Don’t do that, silly. Eat the spaghetti instead.”

OH MY GOD I LOVE THEM

How is Lucy adjusting with the move? Is she doing okay? Me She’s taken Liam’s cat hostage as her own, so I’d say it’s going well. I told her she’ll get to meet two dogs soon, and she was beside herself.

“I didn’t forget about your daughter. I have four bedrooms, and there is plenty of space.” “Wouldn’t that be a massive invasion of your privacy?” “Not unless you’re going to record me in the shower.”

“We don’t know each other,” I say. “What do you want to know?” “You could have a foot fetish.” “I don’t have a foot fetish.” “You could be a murderer.” “I don’t have enough free time to be a murderer, and I saw how good you are with knives. I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”

“That’s sweet. I never knew if you all were people who happened to be on the same sports team, or if you actually got along.” “We get along. When Emmy played on the Stars, I got in the first fight of my career when I found out what her ex said about her. I decked the asshole in the face, and I’ve never been more proud.”

She’s taken to sitting in the sun that sneaks through the living room curtains late in the afternoon while she reads her book, the dogs never more than a few feet away. I’ve caught the three of them napping on the couch, and wherever Lucy goes, Gus and Millie are hot on her heels.

This is so precious

He bends and scoops the banana off the floor. “Did you hurl this at me?” “No. I’d never assault my employer after mistaking him for a burglar. Especially after he invited me and my daughter to live in his nice home.”

“You know what? Smart-asses don’t get pancakes. You can have toast for breakfast, and I’m going to make sure it’s dry as hell.” “Come on.” Hudson pouts. “I need my energy for the day.” “Fine.” I roll my eyes, pretending like he’s asking me to move mountains. “But only if you promise not to sneak around the condo anymore. Announce your presence so there are no more fruit catastrophe.”

“You’re making these from scratch?” I lift an eyebrow. “You thought I was going to use a boxed mix?” “I did, and I’m learning it was a wildly offensive assumption. Forgive me, chef.” “You’re forgiven.”

“Some people aren’t meant to be parents.” Riley hooks his thumb over his shoulder, and I glance down the aisle. Connor, Ethan, and Grant are filming a video for some social media site, and I snort. “Look at Ethan. Dude would be the world’s worst father.” “The day he has a kid is the day hell freezes over.”

Riley slings an arm over my shoulder and shakes me. “Do you think your chef is watching?” “I don’t think she gives a crap about any of this.”

BUT HER DAUGHTER DOES!!!