Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Jami Davenport (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

My alcohol-laden heart soared. My convictions to make my life about nothing but hockey flew out the window without a second thought. I deepened my kiss, pushing my thigh between her legs. She whimpered and gripped my shoulders, kissing with the same hunger I felt.

I don’t know how long we made out on the dance floor. People jostled us, and my teammates teased. I ignored everyone but her. She was my everything, and I wanted to be her everything. Our mouths mated with an intensity only equaled by how our bodies craved each other.

“Naomi, oh, fuck, Naomi. I need you.”

“I need you, too,” she responded in that breathless voice that turned my lust up a notch.

“Pax. Pax! Sorry to interrupt.”

I ignored this persistent buzz in my ear until it became too loud to ignore.

“What?” I reluctantly dragged my mouth from hers. Naomi wasn’t so willing to let go, she held on to me. She tattooed my cheeks with hot kisses.

“Pax, I need help with your brother,” Lex implored me. The alarm in his voice penetrated the lust-filled fog surrounding me. Even Naomi stopped and turned to look at him with concern on her face.

“What’s going on?” I asked with annoyance. This better be good.

“He’s wasted drunk, and he’s picking fights with some frat guys. He’s going to get himself in real trouble, maybe be kicked off the team. We can’t control him.”

“Ah, fuck.” I turned apologetically to Naomi.

She smiled and nodded. “Go to your brother. He needs you.”

I wouldn’t be making any difficult choices tonight. Patrick needed rescuing from himself, and perhaps so did I.

19

The Douche

Naomi

I had a big decision to make. No more putting it off. The moment of truth had come.

The week following the Halloween party, Pax and I were back to the we’re-just-friends game. He greeted me cheerfully when he ran into me on campus and was friendly and even chatty at times. But it was all superficial BS. I caught the hunger in his gaze on several occasions, and he caught me doing the same. I was growing tired of this dance we were doing. The day of reckoning was coming. We both knew it.

The team played out of town that weekend, a doubleheader with the same college. We won the first game. Patrick was the star, but Paxton’s struggles appeared to be behind him. He played a very good game and scored one goal to his brother’s two.

My dad invited Patrick to dinner after Friday’s game in what was becoming a post-game ritual. Tonight, Mr. Graham would also be in attendance as he’d come to town for the games.

Paxton walked out of the locker room right behind Patrick, glanced at our little group, and looked away, but not before I caught the hurt on his face. Neither his father nor his brother had thought to invite him.

In a moment of rebellion, I tugged on Pax’s coat as he walked by, making it impossible for him not to stop.

“Hey, Omi,” he said with a too bright smile. His gaze slid to his dad, but Mr. Graham didn’t acknowledge him.

Fine, I would.

“Great game tonight, Pax. You were on fire,” I stated a little too loudly.

Pax frowned, his gaze going to his father and back. “I did okay.” He shrugged, blowing off his best performance of the season so far.

“We’re going to dinner. Why don’t you join us?” I continued, because I really did want him there. I waited expectantly for his answer.

Before Paxton opened his mouth to respond, his father rushed forward, suddenly aware of his other son. “This is a private meeting to discuss Patrick’s future. Sorry, Pax, but I’m sure you’ll understand.”

“Yeah, sure, I do,” Paxton mumbled. He shrugged and met my gaze. I wasn’t certain what I saw in his eyes at that moment. He did an admirable job of covering up his emotions, but I had no such problem. I was mad. Actually livid at his asshole father. Paxton was his son, too. I embraced my fury in preparation for the ass-chewing that man deserved. Pax touched my arm and shook his head.

“It’s okay, Naomi. It’d suck joining you guys ’cause Dad get his rocks off pitting Patrick and me against each other. We’re already in a bad place right now. We don’t need him making it worse.”

“Are you sure?”

He managed a joyless smile. “Positive. I have stuff to do anyway. See you later. And thanks for the invite.” He didn’t acknowledge the rest of the group but joined a few teammates waiting for him near the double exit doors. He left without looking back, his shoulders squared and his head held high.

Good for him.

I fumed as I followed our small group to the car. I didn’t speak on the way to the restaurant, and no one seemed to notice or care. We sat down, and I ordered a glass of wine. Despite the daggers I sent to Mr. Graham and my own father, even Patrick, no one paid me any mind. After all, I was just a mere female, and I couldn’t even skate. My skating ability, or lack of, was a major sore spot with my father. If I’d been a female hockey star or even a figure skater, he’d have been able to save face with his buddies who had sons and daughters who were born on skates and looked like it. I, on the other hand, had inherited my mother’s ineptness, clumsiness, and lack of balance, compounded by my phobia.

I sipped my wine and observed. Patrick’s father was making a fool of himself, and my dad was playing him like a fine fiddle.

The entire performance was disturbing and pathetic. Not just on Mr. Graham’s part but my dad’s too. My father needed adulation, thrived on it, and withered without it. I secretly called his first few years of retirement from hockey the dark years. He didn’t know who he was without hockey. He’d tried announcing and wasn’t