Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

“Ohhh shit, there he is!” Jaxson said when I boarded the team plane, and he started a slow clap that the rest of the team joined in on as they cheered and made catcalls.

I arched a brow, storing my backpack in the space over my seat. All our equipment and luggage was taken care of by the staff, so that backpack was all I had until we landed in Boston.

When the applause died down, Jaxson wrapped his arm around my neck like he was going to take me down in a wrestling move, but he just ruffled my hair instead.

“Our little pigeon has the whole world losing their minds.”

“And their panties,” Carter added with a grin.

“Want me to rub you down with oil next time, Tanny Boy?” Jaxson asked when he released me. He rubbed my pecs to illustrate before I smacked his hands away with a smile of my own.

“Wow, I’ve never heard jealousy ring out quite so loud before,” I said, taking my seat before I stretched my legs out confidently. I’d dressed in my newest custom suit from Stefano Ricci, and I unclasped the buttons of my jacket as I kicked back. Will was in the seat by the window across from where I sat, and Jaxson took the seat next to him.

“What’s next? Posing on the beach in a banana hammock?”

“Nah, Brittzy,” I said, flicking my sunglasses down over my eyes. “My cock wouldn’t fit in one of those. Now you on the other hand…”

He kicked me before I could finish the joke, but we were all laughing. Well, all of us except Daddy P, who looked out the window with his headphones on.

The team plane was expansive, large enough to fit close to two-hundred passengers if it was designed like a normal commercial plane. But it wasn’t. Instead, huge leather seats donned the space — two facing forward and two facing backward — in little pods of four on either side of the aisle. The coaches and staff usually sat at the front of the plane, while the rest of us filled the middle and back, and before we even took off, we were waited on by the flight attendant staff — the same ones who flew with us each and every away game.

“Seriously, man, is it weird?” Carter asked when he took a seat across the aisle from me. “I heard she’s moving into your building and everything.”

That was news to me — enticing news, if I was being honest — but I pretended I already knew as I took a water from the flight attendant and thanked her.

“It hasn’t even been a full day,” I reminded him. “But so far, it feels like normal. She told me to just pretend she isn’t here.”

Will snorted at that, which told me he was wearing those headphones more for show than anything else.

“I agree with Daddy P,” Jaxson said. “Fat chance in hell you can ignore a woman that fine.”

“I’ll never forget that yellow dress,” Carter added with a far-off look.

“That ass.” Jaxson whistled through his teeth as the both of them shook their head in mutual agreement that those two words were enough to convey a whole story. “She’s an absolute rocket.”

I didn’t know why my jaw tightened a bit as they joked about Maven and how attractive she was, because they were right. It was true. She was the kind of woman who belonged in magazine spreads, the kind who made you forget how to speak. I’d also tossed around these same remarks and worse with the guys about dozens of women before.

Why did it make my hands roll into fists when they talked about Maven the same way?

“That’s enough,” I clipped.

Their smiles fell along with mine.

“She’s essentially a part of the team now,” I said. “She’s going to be uncomfortable enough as it is in a new environment with a bunch of smelly brutes like you two. Show her some respect, or I’ll make you show it.”

Jaxson and Carter bit back smiles, glancing behind me and then at each other before Jaxson put his hands up in surrender.

“Sure thing, Pidge,” Jaxson said. “We won’t rag on your girl.”

“Don’t hit on her, either,” I threatened, chest puffing a little when he called Maven my girl. She was nowhere near that, but I liked the thought of establishing that claim even when I didn’t have the right to.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat over my head, and I glanced up and back to find Maven standing there with her arms folded over her chest and an amused look on her face.

I didn’t have to glance back at the guys to know she’d been there for a while, especially when I could hear their laughs fizzling out of their chests. I ignored them altogether, standing and extending a hand for Maven’s bag.

“Window seat’s yours, doll,” I said, smoothing my knuckles over her slim shoulder as I removed her bag. She kept her arms crossed until the last second like she didn’t want my help, finally releasing the strap so I could tuck her bag in the bin overhead.

“I’m not your doll,” she bit back. “And I want the aisle.”

I clucked my tongue. “No can do, peach. I’ve got long legs I need to stretch out.”

“More like he’s afraid of flying and being too close to the window makes him shit his pants,” Carter chimed in.

I didn’t even look at him as my fist jutted out and slugged his arm. He laughed on a yelp, rubbing the spot while Maven watched the exchange and I watched her.

“Vince Tanev, scared of flying?” She tilted her head a bit. “That’s something I didn’t expect.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes.

I took the opportunity then to appraise her outfit change. I missed that tiny scrap of white fabric she’d been wearing as a top earlier, especially since I’d had the sinfully delicious view of her hard nipples earlier that morning. My cock twitched a little at the memory of those peaks, of how goosebumps had trailed over her arms when I’d let my eyes rake over her and discovered that fun little surprise like a toy in a cereal box.

Now, she had on light-colored jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was held back by a bright blue bandana tied in a knot at the front, and silver hoops hung from her ears. And even though she was showing less skin now than she did this morning, she was somehow even more alluring.

It should have been illegal for that woman with an ass like hers to wear jeans that tight.

I didn’t hurry my perusal of her, and when I finally dragged my eyes back up to meet hers, she gave me a look that said well, are you going to move or…?

I stepped a bit to the side, just marginally, like I didn’t have the space to move much farther. My smile climbed on my lips in a dare as Maven assessed the tiny sliver of space between me and the seat that I’d left her to slip through.

Her jaw tightened as she took the challenge, and at first, I thought she was going to ram through me and bulldoze her way into the row. But at the last moment, her pace changed, and she held her chin high as she turned toward the seats, her hands bracing on the back of them to steady her while she squeezed by me.

That little turn meant her ass was practically in my lap as she did.

“Excuse me,” she purred, smirking back at me as she slowly dragged that perfect, round, apple-shaped ass across my groin. She did so achingly slow, and my nostrils flared at the contact, hand clamping on the seat behind me to keep from reaching out and grabbing her to keep her against me longer.

When she slid by, she watched me out of the corner of her eye before she carefully took the window seat and crossed her legs.

I finally exhaled, glancing at Carter and Jaxson who were watching me with shit-eating grins now. Even Will arched a brow at me before turning to look out the window again.

I cracked my neck, unfastening the button on my suit jacket before I slid into the seat next to her.

“And don’t call me peach, either,” she said.

“What should I call you, then,” I asked. “Girl of my dreams? Siren of the seas?”

“How about Maven, since that’s her name,” Daddy P cut in, blinking slowly at me like I was a teenage boy who had climbed too high on his nerves. To be fair, I was acting a bit like one, but I couldn’t help it.

I liked to push Maven’s buttons.

I wondered what would happen if I pushed all the right ones.

Maven tongued her cheek at me with that little input from our goaltender, and then she turned to him, extending her hand. “Thank you. I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Maven King.”

“Will Perry,” he said gruffly with a firm, short shake.

“We call him Daddy P, though,” Jaxson cut in.

Maven’s brows tugged inward. “Why?”

“Well, because he’s a daddy — like actually a dad. He has the cutest kid you’ll ever meet.”

“But also because he’s iron-fisted and hands out punishment like a dad,” Carter explained. “And he treats the puck like a boy trying to take his daughter on a date and his daughter is the net. No access granted.”

Maven’s cheeks tinged a bit pink at that, and she smiled at Will. “Daddy P. I like that.”

“We all have nicknames,” Carter said. “It’s kind of annoying, honestly, but inescapable, nonetheless.”

“What do you mean?” Maven asked.

“Well, it just sort of happens in hockey. Sometimes it’s a play on your last name, or sometimes you do one stupid thing and it becomes your identifier for years. Sometimes it’s a name earned from performance, like Daddy P is part for his last name, Perry, but also part P for Pickles.”

“Pickles?” Maven’s nose scrunched up.

“Yeah. Because he’s cool as a cucumber on the ice,” Jaxson said.

Maven laughed, and the sound was so airy and light that I wanted to bottle it up. She seemed to be relaxing the more the guys talked to her, and the bite she loved to nip me with was slowly receding, her teeth no longer bared.

“So, he’s Daddy P,” she said, pointing at Will before her finger moved to Jaxson. “And you are?”

“Brittzy,” he said. “My last name is Brittain. And then Carter here is Fabio.”

“Because of the flow,” Carter said, sliding his hand back through his medium-length brown hair before that same hand ran over his scruff. That made Will snort again and pin him with a glare.

No one had better hair than Daddy P.

“Because his last name is Fabri,” Jaxson interjected. “And because his game with the ladies is absolute shit, so calling him Fabio is ironic.”

That earned Jaxson a wet willy from across the aisle.

“And what about you?” Maven asked, finally turning to look at me. When she did, her honey golden eyes danced a little. “What’s your nickname?”

“Mr. King.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because when we get married, I already know you’re too independent to take my last name, so I guess I’ll have to take yours.”

An incredulous laugh burst from her lips, and she shook her head, folding her arms over her chest again. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

“Like a puppy.”

“More like a dog,” she said just as quickly.

“He’s Vince Cool to the outside world, but with us, he’s Tanny Boy,” Carter said. “Because on our first night out he got wasted on car bombs at O’Briens and kept requesting ‘Danny Boy’ even though the band was playing Southern Rock, not Irish music.”

“Nah, he’s just Pidge to me,” Jaxson said, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee and bringing his hands back behind his head. “Always will be.”

Maven hadn’t taken her eyes off me.

I wasn’t sure I ever could take my eyes off her.

“Pidge?” She finally asked.

“Pigeon,” I answered. “Just another word for rookie.”

“Ah,” she mused. “I like that one. Pigeon. Can I use it, too?”

“You can call me whatever you want to. Just make sure you like the name you pick.” I leaned in a little closer, lowering my voice. “I have a feeling you’ll be saying it a lot. Maybe in different decibels, too. Might want to try screaming it loud and high-pitched, just to make sure it feels right.”

Maven’s cheeks reddened again, just a light pink flowing over those warm brown cheeks peppered with freckles. I smirked at the sight of that blush, but it wasn’t there long before Maven clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” she asked.

I leaned even closer. “Be honest. You would hate it if I did.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to.

The smile that played at the corner of her dusty-rose lips told me I was right.