Chapter 5

 sorry for the super long wait, I know, I know...but flu...first I had it now Shan has it...it's too hard to write when your head is full of snot...anyway, we hope a super long chapter helps just a little

The heat woke me long before the scheduled call from the front desk.

I found myself snuggled in between two very large, very WARM bodies and had no actual desire to move despite the sheen of sweat that had me practically glued to Dan Hamuis's broad back. Much the way Keith Ballard was pasted to mine.

"You get the first shower," Dan mumbled groggily, addressing the furnace behind me. "Get up,"

"Mmmph." Keith's arm tightened around my waist and his lips tickled the back of my neck when he spoke. "Don't wanna. Too comfy. You go."

I really couldn't blame him. I knew I sure as hell didn't want to go anywhere.

"You're closer to the door," Dan explained as if that was all the reasoning required to make the decision.

Which apparently it was since Keith sighed heavily, pressed a kiss to the side of my neck and hauled himself out of the bed.

The cool air hit my back like an arctic breeze, making me shiver, and Dan rearranged us, rolling onto his back so that I was tucked into his side, our fingers laced on his stomach and my cheek pressed to his chest. His head popped up to check the clock on the nightstand and then he was relaxing again, one hand warm on my back beneath my sleep shirt. "Ten more minutes Sugar."

I nodded and felt him press his lips to the top of my head before he slipped back into a doze.

I could have used the time to get a bit more rest myself but instead I lay awake and tried to process this latest turn of events.

The boys continued to surprise the hell out of me.

 As much as it might not have looked it to anyone who didn’t know the two men in my room had they walked in right now, what was going on here was no more than an innocent puppy pile, a sleepover. They were the guys who missed their wives on the road and I was no more than a warm body pillow to snuggle up against.

Nothing like the workout Lappy had put me through the first night; to the point where I had taken to sitting very gingerly the following day. He'd seen it as quite an accomplishment every time he saw me wince and then blush with remembered pleasure his chest puffed out and he grinned like he’d just scored a goal.

Hank had frowned throughout breakfast and then cornered me before getting on the bus for their morning skate. "You okay?"

It took me a moment to realize exactly what he was asking and then another moment not to let my jaw drop when I clued in. "Oh! Um...yeah. Yes. I'm fine."

His blue eyes narrowed dangerously and I fleetingly wondered why other players weren't more afraid of him on the ice. Not that I had any fear of him personally but I was a little worried for Max when his captain's gaze caught the whisker burn at my throat. "He wasn't supposed to break you," he muttered darkly.

"He didn't, I promise." Hoping to reassure him I gave one of those thick biceps a squeeze."I promise you, Henrik, Max was a perfect gentleman. At least right up until I begged him not to be," I added with a wink.

 Those ice blue eyes flashed quickly with heat and then he was stepping closer, lowering his voice as not to be overheard. "You wanted to...for him to be... hard on you?"

 Well hell, when he said it like that, it almost sounded kinda bad. But it wasn't. "Um," I made a face and tried not to sound like a colossal whore. "Not all the time? I just - the guys are great but they need to understand that I'm not going to break. I'm not going to get mad and make them sleep on the couch if they get a little rough sometimes. Y'know?"

 Hank nodded but was focused on the wall at my back. "You do have the option to say 'no' sometimes."

 Hmmm. That was good to know. Not that my newly discovered tendencies towards full blown nymphomania were about to let me do that any time soon. "I'm a lot tougher than I look," I grinned impishly and when he rolled his eyes I nudged him with my shoulder. Since the man was a granite slab of muscle, I nearly bounced right off of him, just like a lot of opposing defensemen do but he steadied me with a firm hand on my hip. “Hey, I can take care of myself. Why do you think I’ve been taking it easy and just having my cuddle buddies overnight, huh?” He looked thoughtful and then tilted his head to the side. It was as much agreement as I was going to get, so I took it.

 "You'll tell me," he said firmly, "if anyone gets out of hand or plays too hard, you'll tell me." It wasn't a request. I understood and nodded my agreement. Hank nodded back once and then looped an arm around my waist, leading me toward the lobby. "Was it good?"

 I nearly got whiplash trying to see his face. "You mean with Lappy?"

 He ducked his head a bit and redness crept up his neck as we walked. I nearly cackled with delight. Every day I was learning more about the boys and what made them tick - and it was becoming more and more fun to try and deliver. Hank in particular was going to be fun. 

 "It was very good," I purred, dropping the pitch of my voice to something huskier and more intimate. "You want to hear everything he did to me Hank? What he did to make me moan? Make me scream? Make me beg?"

 Henrik groaned and gave my waist a squeeze as his hand flexed. "You already figured out the answer to that one, I'm sure."

 Of course I had. Just as he was aware that I wouldn't tell him any of what Max and I had actually done. I wasn't going to kiss and tell, the same way the boys wouldn't compare notes after being with me. But if Hank wanted a naughty bedtime story I'd gladly make something up to please him, and, of course, myself.

 "Tonight?" I asked, probably sounding too eager. They were going to be keyed up after the game, win or lose.

 "Not tonight," he said, shaking his head. "And other than anything immediate at the arena, you're off limits until tomorrow night at the earliest. Spend tonight with Hammy and rest up."

 "WHAT?!" I squawked. "But I'm fine!" 

 He smiled ruefully and gave my ass a light tap. "Humor me."

__________________________________________________________________________

You know that rule of thumb, the one that says players can’t have sex before a game? Well it turns out that, for the most part, is an old wives tale. Oh some of the players strictly adhere to it, mostly the older players, maybe because they have to save their energy. That doesn’t mean that there’s some kind of wild gang bang orgy in the dressing room but there’s a couple of guys, Kess and Juice, who don’t play as well unless they fight over me. It’s not bad for a girl’s ego either. The equipment guys aren’t always thrilled to have to give up their office though. 

Kev had won this particular round and he was wearing the cat that got the canary grin as he joined the pre-game kick around in the hallway while I slumped against the concrete wall, my legs unable and frankly unwilling to support my weight. I watched the guys in their t-shirts and shorts and told myself that I was really enjoying my job though I was actually feeling a bit miffed at Hank for forbidding me from getting anything but cuddled tonight. 

“So who’s your favorite?” I hadn’t heard her come down the hall but when I glanced at the woman who was leaning against the wall next to me there was no doubt in my mind who she was, especially with soft sky blue cashmere sweater that clung to her generous, and to my eye, store bought curves and practically begged to be petted. 

“I don’t have one,” I replied honestly. It wouldn’t have been fair to pick favorites. I hadn’t had them all yet.

“Oh c’mon,” she nudged me playfully in the ribs and tossed her blonde ringlets over her shoulder, “you can tell me.” 

“No, honestly, how could I pick? It’s like a desert buffet,” I smiled, watching Higgy balance the soccer ball on the ball of his foot, which made his calf muscles flex and his thighs strain against the thin fabric of the compression shorts he was wearing. I licked my lips and hoped that I’d get a taste of him soon.

“I think we’re the luckiest girls in the league,” she said and when I glanced back at her she had her head tilted to one side and was checking Eddie’s ass. I followed her gaze and took a minute to appreciate the same view. 

“The specialists?” I asked and she laughed and shook her head. 

“No, just me and you. Don’t you think we have the hottest teams by far?” she asked, licking her lips as the Prince of Denmark headed a ball to Danny. 

“I don’t know...I hadn’t given that much thought,” I replied, knowing full well who was on her team and exactly how good looking several of them were but it just felt disloyal to even think of any of the Hawks players like that. They were the enemy. My boys, because that’s how I thought of them now, were about to go out and do battle with them and there would be bruises and cuts to nurse later because of it not to mention battered egos if we lost. 

“Please, are you trying to tell me that you don’t think Jonathan Toews is hot?” she said in this kind of conspiratorial tone, like we were friends. I shrugged. 

“He has his good points I guess,” I replied nonchalantly. 

“Well don’t tell him that when I introduce you,” she snorted, pushing off from the wall and looked at me expectantly. This hadn’t happened in St. Louis but I shrugged and started to follow her down the hall, at least until a big hand with big fingers dug into my shoulder. 

“Where are you off to?” I turned and looked into Higgy’s blue eyes, wariness in his features that I immediately wondered came from a history of cops in the family. 

“Just showing her around,” the young woman replied, openly ogling him, especially when he lifted the hem of his t-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “I’m Bridgette, the boys call me Budgie,” she cooed, offering her hand. He looked down at it, like he didn’t know what to do with it and then finally made up his mind to shake it, except she pulled him closer and wound herself around him like a cat making figure eights around your legs when you come home from work. “You can call me whatever you want handsome,” she purred in his ear.

I wanted to claw her eyes out. I wanted to pull her off of him by her perfect curls and punch her teeth down her throat. I managed, just, to restrain myself though I crossed my arms and bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from even saying anything like ‘stop being so obvious you stupid slut’. I reminded myself that I was the pot and she was the kettle and I was currently living in a great big glass house. 

“Well, Bridgette,” he began, uncoiling her from around him like she was a piece of someone else’s well chewed gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, “don’t take our Penny too far huh? Make sure she’s in the stands for the game. She’s our good luck charm.” I beamed at him. I couldn’t help it. He was being all white knight and I wanted to hug him but I just stood there, grinning, instead.  

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Bridgette purred as if she hadn’t just been picked up and unceremoniously dropped off the couch, unwanted, “I’ll took super good care of her.” She hooked her arm in mine and began to drag me away. I glanced over my shoulder and was grateful to see all the boys standing watching me go. I gave them a little wave, hoping they’d know I could look after myself. 

I was almost wrong. 

Bridgette took me through a stainless steel door emblazoned with their logo to the Hawk’s players lounge, and asked me to sit on an overstuffed black leather couch while she went through a wooden double door and into the din beyond. It only took a minute for the door to open and for Bridgette to reappear with the hulking Jonathan Toews behind her. He smiled, a lop-sided boyish grin, and offered his hand. I expected him to shake mine, but he lifted it to his lips instead. 

“Soooo I wasn’t sure,” he began, putting a hand possessively on Bridgette’s ass, “I didn’t think The Sisters did this kind of thing.” 

“Thing?” I asked, crossing my arms again, hating the greedy way he was looking me over. 

“Yeah, the trade thing. I mean, I got that the last chick had some sort of thing with Babwa,” he scoffed and he and Bridgette both rolled their eyes, “but I know it’s, y’know, the Captain’s prerogative or whatever to do the trade and I just thought....”

“Wait,” I snapped, holding up my hand to stop him from going any further. The small hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end and I was getting a distinctively nauseating feeling in my stomach. “Are you suggesting...do you think I came here to...with you?” I looked him over and despite all of his impressive muscles the only thing I could see was the Indian Head logo in the middle of his chest and the green and blue blood in my veins ran cold. 

“Well yeah, that was the general idea,” his smile grew and his chest puffed out.  

“No,” I said immediately, backing away. “There must be some kind of misunderstanding but that is definitely not going to happen.” 

I didn’t wait for a reaction. I turned on my heel and went out the door I came in. I didn’t go back to the visitor’s dressing room. I didn’t want to be a tattle tale and I didn’t want the guys to see me frazzled like this. What I needed now was a beer and the invisibility being in a crowd could provide. 

____________________________________________________________________________

I replayed the fight in my mind as I ran down the stairs towards the visitor’s dressing room. It had been the same sort of chippy, fast paced game it always seemed to be with the Hawks but just when The Nucks had started to make headway, when Kane had taken a totally irresponsible penalty in our end, Higgy had done something equally reckless; he’d dropped his gloves. 

There had been a face off in the Hawks end with Kess facing off against Toews. The two center's sticks clashed and Kess got a warning from the linesman. When they faced off again Toews practically dove into the circle before the puck was even dropped and was promptly tossed from the circle. While Hossa glided in Toews lined up beside Higgy, their heads bent close together and then the next thing me and everyone else in the stands saw, Higgy was tossing his gloves and stick aside and was reaching for the strap on his helmet.

Personally I was thrilled. I hadn’t seen Higgy fight more than maybe once but I was hoping he’d break Captain Serious’s nose for thinking that I would ever sleep with him. I mean, unless I got transferred there...god forbid. Much to my dismay but to the cheers of the crazed Hawks fans, their captain shook his head, like a big fucking pussy and declined the fight leaving Higgy standing there, his fists up, ready to go and looking foolish. Luckily for him Boland tossed his gloves and threw the first punch.

Unluckily for Chris the fight didn’t go well. Boland, the rat faced lippy little fuck, was obviously far more used to scrapping. He threw two hay makers, one after the other, both connecting with Chris’s jaw. The first snapped his head back. The second sent him to the ice. 

I watched with dismay as our trainer hit the ice at a run, not waiting for any of our guys to help him across the slippery surface. I didn’t count the seconds Chris stayed down on that ice but to me it seemed like an eternity until he shook off the trainer and even Kess’s offer of a hand up as he got to his feet. The Hawks crowd didn’t cheer as he skated slowly, head down, to the Canuck’s bench; they jeered, whistled, cat called and booed. 

I hated every last one of them. 

The rest of the period seemed to take forever to play and the entire time I kept my eyes on the bench, waiting for Chris to reappear, my fingers plucking nervously at the hem of the skirt I was wearing, silently willing him to get his ass back on the bench. When the final buzzer sounded I was up out of my seat doing the hundred yard dash to the dressing room, only to be stopped by Manny returning from an interview. 

“You know you’re not supposed to go in there kiddo,” he reminded me firmly but not unkindly. “Not with all the reporters and visitors.” It stung to be reminded that there was a place I could not go, somewhere I was not welcome, but I retreated, but only an inch. 

“I just want to check on Chris,” I told him, pleading with my eyes, with my bottom lip. Manny gave me a half a smile but shook his head. 

“Still can’t let you in,” he replied and put his hand on my shoulder as if it was any consolation. 

“You don’t want to go in there,” a voice purred in my ear and I couldn’t help but relax when I heard it. “It’s not a good time, he’s all...,” Juice rubbed at one eye with his gloved hand, the way a kid would and stuck out his bottom lip. “He wouldn’t want a girl to see him crying like...well a girl,” he added with a smirk as he swatted my ass. I didn’t believe for a minute that Higgy would cry, he was brought up in the Bronx by tough, tough dudes. 

“I just want to know how he is and what that jackass said to make him want to take a swing,” I growled, my hands curling into fists at the memory of the smug look on Toews’ face when he thought I was actually going to sleep with him. Juice shrugged. 

“Who cares? We slaughtered the fuckers. That’s all I care about,” he added and then strutted by me like he was the cock of the walk. I watched him walk into the dressing room, got a brief glimpse of half naked, sweaty bodies before the door closed behind him but not enough of a glimpse to know who was who and who was doing what. 

“You can catch up with him later, on the bus,” Manny suggested and patted my cheek affectionately, as if I was some little sister and not the team whore. I nodded, resigned, and turned to leave, only to see Chris coming out of the trainer’s room, a bag of ice pressed to his jaw. His usually full bottom lip was inflated and split and he was already sporting a shiner that had one of his sky blue eyes swollen nearly shut. 

“Higgy,” I gasped, automatically reaching to touch his face. He flinched and pulled away. 

"Don't," 

I frowned at him, arm still stretched out to make contact. "But...?"

“Just go,” he muttered and started to go around me. 

“Wait,” I grabbed for the sleeve of his jersey. There was blood on it. “I just...well there’s no use asking if you’re okay but...I’m proud of you,” I told him, offering a half smile. I was proud of anyone who was brave enough to drop the gloves but especially of Chris, who was more inclined to hold the others back while Juice or Romer threw down. He looked down at my hand and then up at me, his blue eyes looking less sunny sky and more stormy sea. Cold, remote.  

“It was a stupid thing to do,” he grumbled, sounding like maybe that was something Bones or Coach V had told him. 

“Toews is such a puss, I can’t believe he backed down,” I added, hoping to cheer him up. He didn’t smile, not even in his eyes. “What did he say to set you off?” I asked, leaning in, keeping my voice low so as not to be heard by a passing group of reporters. 

Chris stared at me, with such sudden and unexpected hostility in his gaze that I lost my breath for a moment. "Jesus," 

The half mumbled curse came from lips thinned with disgust and he started to turn away. "Wait, Chris...."

"Let go," he glanced down at my hand holding his jersey tight and shook his head once. "Now." 

"I just "

“Fuck, just get on the Goddamned bus Penny,” he snarled, wrenched his arm free of my grasp and stomped away. I stared after him, feeling rejected yet again and I didn’t like that it hurt. It hurt like he’d stuck a knife in my chest. 

“His pride is bruised,” a soft Swedish lisp whispered in my ear and a hand rested softly on the small of my back. “He didn’t mean to snap.” I wanted to argue but my tongue wouldn’t work and my throat felt suspiciously tight. Hank’s hand slid up my back until his arm circled my shoulder. “Why don’t you take Eddie back to the hotel with you? We’re not leaving until the morning,” he suggested softly. 

“But I thought you said...?” I looked up at him, confused, and he smiled down at me in a paternal kind of way. 

“I know what I said but I can change my mind,” he replied with a smile as he pulled me against him. “Wait here,” he added, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, “I’ll send Eddie out as soon as he’s out of the shower.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

“Holy hell!” I stared up at the ceiling, panting, sweat trickling down between my breasts, and a huge grin on my face. “How can you have that much energy after a game?” I gasped. 

“Bones says I have good endurance and great breath control,” Eddie answered, rolling onto his side and up onto his elbow, his other hand slipping down underneath the sheets and coming to rest, warm on the curve of my hip.

“I’ll say,” I panted, feeling boneless, breathless and utterly relaxed. I guess Hank knew what he was doing. A couple of hours ago I’d been coiled tight as a spring. Now, I knew, I couldn’t have got up out of the bed even if the hotel was on fire.  

“Plus,” he added, with an elfin smile that never seemed to really get to be a grin, “we all seem to have extra energy after beating those guys. I bet some of the guys are out at a club right now dancing.” I knew he was right as I thought of the big grins on Juice and Kess’s face as they’d got off the bus and took a right towards a waiting cab. I’d kind of wanted to go but I wasn’t sorry anymore that I hadn’t.

“So who’s the bigger rival now, the Hawks or the Bruins?” I asked. Eddie looked thoughtful for a minute and then shrugged. 

“Maybe Boston, now, but we still like beating the Hawks,” he replied decisively. “But something tells me, after tonight, when we play them in a couple weeks things might get a little...explosive,” he added with a twinkle in his blue eyes that were nearly always the colour of calm seas. I waited for an explanation and searched his boyish features but they remained as they always did, enigmatic.

“What do you mean...explosive What's so different now?” I asked, crawling over him and pinning him to the bed. He smiled and put his hands around my waist, his body already stirring beneath me. He was good, better than good, but his words had me curious and I wasn't exactly in the mood. I ignored the way his dick pressed against my ass and stared down at him in the near dark. “Eddie?” 

“Well no one disses a team’s specialist. It’s like...dissing your little sister. Higgy couldn’t let him get away with it but Captain man-child wouldn’t fight so...we’ll have to keep trying to get him to step up so he can take a beating for it.” I stared down at him, trying to decipher what he’d just said. 

“Toews dissed me? Me?” 

“Yeah...I mean...I thought you knew,” he replied, looking genuinely puzzled. “He said you turned down the trade and I think he called you frigid or an ice maiden or something like that,” Eddie explained and then screwed up his face. “You didn’t know?” 

“No,” I sighed, climbing off of him and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. I felt like all the wind had been knocked out of my sails but at the same time a little fire burned in my belly. Chris had tried to fight Toews. For me. Chris had fought Bolland. For me. “He stood up for my honour,” I said out loud but to no one in particular. 

“Hey I hit Kane pretty good,” Eddie pointed out, his hand sliding comfortingly up my back. 

“Yeah you did,” I smiled at him after a moment, acknowledging the efforts he'd made during the game as well. Turning, I crawled back under the covers and curled up next to him. “Yeah, you did.”