Two-Man Advantage Read online

  Hitting the ice, Wells rushed to get back, replacing his defensemen as his forwards peppered the goal with shots. When the puck came back to him, he passed it over to his partner, Williams, before he sent it up to Manahan, who passed it off to Linnim. Linnim looked around, looking for an opening, but there was none. When it came back to Wells, he quickly looked to Williams, but he didn’t have the lane either. Needing to get it off his stick, Wells pulled back, ready to crack it, but then it was gone. Before he knew it, a huge body knocked him square on his ass. His head slammed back, his stick went flying, and he was stunned.

  “What the fuck?”

  When he heard the roar of the buzzer, he looked behind him to see that Haverbrooke had his arms in the air and a sneaky little grin on his lips as his team wrapped him up in a tight hug.

  As Wells got up slowly, watching Haverbrooke, he observed to himself that he had never been so damn hot from being knocked on his ass by a man before.

  But Haverbrooke had done just that.

  Wells wasn’t sure what he was doing.

  Why he thought it was a good idea to go over to the hotel where he knew the Rangers were staying was a little ridiculous. He knew he might not see the guy, and he also knew it was pointless. Wells wouldn’t talk to him. There’d be no point. Why tease himself when he knew he couldn’t have the turquoise-eyed beauty who could skate circles around him? Yeah, that wasn’t fair, but apparently, he was a glutton for punishment. Pulling open the door of the hotel, he breezed by the concierge and went straight to the bar where he knew all the teams that came to Colorado hung out. According to his buddy at the arena, the Rangers weren’t leaving until tomorrow afternoon, claiming tomorrow morning the guys would go hiking as a team-building exercise. Since he doubted the team would be going out early, he assumed they’d be at the bar.

  When he entered, he saw immediately that he was correct.

  Most of the guys were hanging out, drinking, and hitting on women.

  That was, except Haverbrooke.

  Even out of uniform, Wells could pick him out of a crowd. His shoulders were slumped a little as he hovered over his beer, his eyes on the baseball game above the bar. A plate of pizza sat beside him, but it looked cold, as if he hadn’t even touched it. Swallowing hard, Wells ran his hands down the front of his tee and watched the other man for a moment. Even with a furrowed brow, he was beautiful. His shoulders were thicker in the light green tee he wore. His back muscle definition, even through the shirt, was mouthwatering. He was downright sinful. Wells knew he should stay in the shadows, just watching him, but soon, he was moving.

  Haverbrooke looked pretty into the game, but then, he had sort of a pissed-off vibe to him. Wells didn’t understand that. He’d had a stellar game, scored two goals, but yet he looked as if someone had pissed in his skates.

  But that didn’t stop Wells.

  Sitting down two stools from him, Wells leaned on the bar, waving at the busty bartender. She shot him a grin, coming right to him. “What can I get you, hot stuff?”

  Wells put on his killer grin. “Can I get a beer, please, and some of those banging nachos?”

  She waggled her brows. “With meat or without?”

  “You know I love the meat, baby.”

  She giggled, and Wells looked away, smiling. He had known Tanya for a while. She was always at the gay club he went to, and he had bought her many a drink. Leaning back on the stool, Wells crossed his arms over his chest and let out a long breath as he looked up at the game. He wasn’t a baseball fan, but thankfully, Vaughn was and always said something. “How about them Cubs?”

  Man, he was a loser.

  Haverbrooke glanced over at him, paused, his face unreadable as he looked back up at the TV. “They might do something this year.”

  “Yeah, for sure. All the way.”

  Haverbrooke scoffed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  Wells smiled as he reached for his beer, taking a long swig. Silence stretched between them, and Wells figured maybe the guy wasn’t really a talker. That should have been enough for him to get out of there and take his crazy infatuation out the door. But instead, he glanced back to Haverbrooke and called out, “Food’s good here.”

  He didn’t look at him as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple adjusting with the motion. “Yeah, I like it.”

  “Me too,” he said, sliding his hands down his legs. “One of my favorite places to eat. I live right down the block.”

  Haverbrooke glanced over at him, his eyes gliding across Wells’s face before he nodded. “And you come here?”

  Wells smiled. “I’m friends with the bartender. She gives me extra jalapeños and guac.”

  When Haverbrooke’s lips curved a bit, Wells held his breath. “This is actually one of my favorite hotel bars.”

  “Great booze and food, plus all the games a guy can ask for. Who wouldn’t love it?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, turning his gaze back to the game. “Some would say the ladies were nice.”

  “Some,” Wells agreed slowly, before he, too, glanced up at the game.

  Minutes passed as they both watched the game, making small comments here and there. Well, Wells made the comments. Haverbrooke either agreed or didn’t say anything. When a commercial broke, he said, “So you’re from here, then?”

  “Mostly.”

  “I’m heading out to Lost Man’s Loop tomorrow,” he said before his eyes met Wells’s. His body caught on fire being in Haverbrooke’s gaze. He wanted desperately to reach out, to touch him. Move his finger along even an inch of his forearm. It looked so delicious, perfect, and Wells really needed to get out of there. He was getting harder by the second, and he knew darn well there was no release in the future. “Is it good hiking?”

  Swallowing hard, Wells nodded. “I’ve been out there a few times with my buddies. We love it.”

  “Cool, I’m looking forward to it. I like that kind of shit.”

  “It’s a lot of fun.”

  “It is. Do you camp?”

  “Hell yeah. My bud Vaughn has this great piece of land north of here that we all go out to.”

  “That’s awesome. Being from New Jersey, I didn’t get to camp much. But now, I love it.”

  “Oh, I could show you all the best places here. But, dude, best place to camp is the Vineyards down in Texas. Hands down, the most fun.”

  “I’ll have to check it out.”

  “Yeah, and the zip-lining in Puerto Rico is phenomenal.”

  Haverbrooke laughed a little, the sound causing Wells’s stomach to clench. “I haven’t been.”

  Wells threw his hand up. “What? Dude, come on. It’s the best!”

  “I’m jealous. I do want to go, but I haven’t had the time.”

  “Make the time. It’s fucking awesome.”

  “It’s like parasailing, right?”

  Wells shrugged. “Eh, yeah, but better.”

  “I’ll have to check it out.”

  “Yeah, I can give you the best places.”

  “I’d like that.” His words were as smooth as ice, his eyes so damn dark. Wells wasn’t sure if it was the low lighting or what, but he was pretty sure Haverbrooke might be giving him the eyes. No, he was insane. Or hoping for something that wasn’t even happening.

  How pathetic.

  Haverbrooke slowly nodded then, his eyes narrowing a bit as the men stayed locked in each other’s gazes. Wells’s body was trembling with anticipation for what he would say. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to sit there and listen to the younger man talk in his dark, sultry voice. When Haverbrooke’s head fell to the side, Wells’s brows pulled in.

  What was wrong?

  “You play for Colorado.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah, number twenty-one.”

  His eyes didn’t leave Wells’s as he kept nodding. “Yeah. I stole the puck from you tonight.”

  “Yeah, thanks, asshole,” Wells teased, and he grinned widely at him.