Good Boy (WAGs #1)(47)

If I’m honest, Wes is on a team full of startlingly attractive players. Besides Blake, there’s Eriksson, who I wouldn’t kick out of bed. And of course there’s the pretty boy Will O’Connor.

Naturally, Jamie and I cheer for Wes and Blake every time they get their sticks on the puck, but our enthusiasm is nothing compared to Mama Riley’s. Whenever her son sets foot on the ice she lets fly a litany of violent encouragement.

“GET ’EM, BLAKEY! BEND HIS FENDERS! SINK HIS BATTLESHIP!”

I nudge Jamie. “What does that mean?”

He shakes his head, smiling. “I tune it out.”

It looks like the first period will be scoreless. But when there’s only fifty seconds on the clock, both Blake and Wes vault over the wall for one more press. Right before the buzzer, Blake makes a risky pass to Wes, who snaps it right back to him. If I’d blinked, I’d have missed the whole exchange.

Someone on the other team must have blinked, because Blake fires that puppy into the net at top speed. The lamp lights and the hometown crowd is on its feet and we are all THRILLED IN ROW E!

I’m shrieking when Mama Riley picks me up clear off the floor, crushing me against her giant bosom and yelling, “GOOD BOY, BLAKEY! MAMA LOVES YOUUUUUU!”

The announcer calls the goal for Blake and the assist for Wes.

The intermission begins while I try to catch my breath. Seriously, I need to come to more of these. Cheering for my friends beats the snot out of cramming for another anatomy quiz.

“So, Jessica,” Mama Riley starts.

“Mmh?” I’m sipping my beer and watching them set up for an intermission game down on the ice. It has something to do with T-shirt cannons and giant bullseyes.

“I hope you’re on some sort of birth control.”

The beer goes down the wrong pipe. I gag, my throat constricting. Then the hacking starts. I’m dying here, and Blake’s mom is still talking.

“There are more options for a girl your age,” she says. “Better pills and IUDs. No reason not to be careful.”

“Um…” I sputter. “I’m, um…”

Beside me I can feel Jamie’s laughter without even having to look.

“…a nursing student,” I finally manage. “I have, uh, lots of information about all of that.”

“Good,” she says firmly. “Blake doesn’t need any distractions. Women have toyed with him before.”

Even in my haze of embarrassment, this statement hits me a little wrong. I lock eyes with Mama Riley, and her expression is fierce. Maybe she’s the type to assume that every girl is a gold-digger. But I think not. Blake didn’t tell his family what happened, but mothers are damned intuitive.

I think she knows.



Jess: MAYDAY! Hope you see this before you see your mom. I sat next to her, and let’s just say a body cavity search would have been less probing.

Jess: Also, nice goal!

Blake: Shitballs. I’m sorry. Forgot J-Bomb’s seats were next to Mom. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

Jess: Felt like a jerk lying to her :(

Blake: I hate liars. And now I made you into one. My ex has got me all tipsy topsy.

Jess: Topsy turvy.

Blake: Whatever.

Jess: So would now be a good time to ask you if you needed a +1 for Hozier? #Pleasesayyes #ILied2YourMom4U

Blake: Wait. Is this a shakedown?

Jess: No, because I’m being REALLY HONEST here about how deep in love I am with…Hozier.

Blake: Fine, lady. But wear something sexy.

Jess: REALLY? I can go?

Blake: Yeah, it’s cool. Gotta go. I can hear Mom out in the hallway bellowing for me.

Jess: Bye! You’re the best friend in the whole world! I owe you!

Blake: Uh-huh. We’ll talk payment later. TTYTOTNDOW

Jess: ?

Blake: Talk to you tomorrow or the next day or whenever.





19 Friends at Benefits





Blake


Houston, we have uno problemo.

No, not just uno problemo. We have…whatever the Spanish word is for disaster.

And it’s me. I’m the disaster. I’ve been a disaster for two weeks, and nobody has even noticed. Well, in their defense, they haven’t noticed because I’ve kept my mouth shut about it. Because what man goes around telling everyone that he’s a disaster?

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to me. I’m a big, tough hockey player who always knows what to do. And I liked my life just the way it was, fuck you very much. Playing pro hockey comes with a ton of perks. Babes. Free shit. Babes. Adoring fans. Oh, and babes.

In fact, any chick would be fawning all over me right now, whipping her panties off and whispering in my ear all the filthy things she’ll do to me later for bringing her to such a cool-ass event.

Any chick but Jess Canning, that is.

She’s my problem. And I can hardly even form the words in my mind, they’re so awful.

I’m falling for her.

But does she notice? No, no and no. My date is too busy fawning over the Irish chump on the stage.

“That accent,” Jess gushes, her brown eyes glued to the singer. “Oh my God, I’d listen to him recite the phone book for three days straight if it meant hearing that accent broguing in my ear.”

“Broguing isn’t a real word,” I grumble.