Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(48)

“Come on, come on, come on.” Less than a minute. The seconds tick by faster, and I’m holding my breath, my hands balled into fists as Colorado makes their final push. One guy steps into the crease, and I grin when I see Kingston push him back with his stick. It’s a subtle move that reflects his dominance of his space. I love that about him.

The buzzer sounds and the bar goes nuts. Cheers and screams sound from behind me, and I feel lighter all of a sudden.

“Beers on the house!” someone shouts.

We offer one round of beer on the house when the Arrows win an away game. Julie comes around to help me, and I suddenly wish the game was at home because I have the urge to celebrate.

With Kingston.

Naked.



Ellie: Great game tonight. Watched from the bar. Thanks to you, I gave out more free beer.

Kingston: It was close there for a while.

Ellie: Close doesn’t count.

Kingston: True. So, we still on for study group on Friday?

Ellie: I don’t know. I might have to wash my hair that night.

Kingston: Didn’t you hear? That’s part of study group? Your study partner will help wash your hair.

Ellie: LOL Is that right?

Kingston: Of course. It’s all in the name of learning.

Ellie: I thought the goal was to become an expert on kissing.

Kingston: It is. You have to try out the kissing technique in various places. Showers can be tricky. They’re slippery, so it’s imperative that we study in there as well.

Ellie: But my clothes will get wet.

Kingston: No they won’t.

Ellie: Why wouldn’t they?

Kingston: Didn’t you read the rules of study group?

Ellie: No. I guess I didn’t get that memo.

Kingston: First rule: Show up on time.

Ellie: That sounds easy enough.

Kingston: Second rule: Study group will continue until both parties are experts on the subject.

Ellie: That makes sense.

Kingston: Third rule: No clothes.

Ellie: Well, I guess if it’s in the rules…





15

Kingston

Friday, October 21st

Traveling with the team isn’t as glamorous as people believe it to be. In fact, it isn’t glamorous at all. Far from it. But we all know it’s a necessary evil, so we somehow make it work. For me, the best part of traveling is coming home. Being away, sharing a hotel room, flying, driving … it all makes being home that much sweeter.

The week went by as I expected it would, the only hiccup being the newly garnered interest in my personal life that started because of my big f*cking mouth after last Friday’s game. Although I’m getting pretty good at deflecting the questions, I’ve heard that Ellie’s having a much harder time. I’ve got a couple of friends keeping an eye on her, and so far, they’ve told me she’s holding her own, but I hate that she’s having to deal with it.

Because of the away games, I haven’t seen her since breakfast on Sunday, which is the reason I’m at the Penalty Box tonight. Our next game is tomorrow night, but then we don’t have another until Tuesday. Although I should be at home resting, I can’t seem to stay away from Ellie. Not seeing her for almost a week… It’s honestly killing me. And the text messages aren’t helping.

While she’s taking care of her customers, I’m patiently sitting at a table with a couple of buddies, drinking water and watching Boston play L.A. on TV, when one of the waitresses comes by and informs me that someone wants to talk to me. I try to wave her off, but she says it’s important.

Excusing myself from the table after laughing at something Seg says, I follow her across the bar. That’s where I find the mayor of our booming town, Jefferson Withmore, and his wife, Margret, seated at a table, smiling brightly when I walk up. I have to cover a groan behind a cough, hating that one of the most prominent men in this small town makes me want to turn tail and run. It actually has nothing to do with him but rather the reason he’d taken a liking to me in the first place.

“Kingston,” Mayor Withmore greets kindly, his grin growing wider. “Nice start to the season. Very impressive.”

I hear a slight hint of condescension in the man’s tone. It doesn’t surprise me. Hell, nothing about this wealthy, powerful, looking-out-only-for-himself man does. For example, the fact that I was accused of manhandling a woman never stopped the jackass from liking me. Not once. Apparently, for the good of his fair city, the guy is willing to look the other way. Doesn’t matter that the allegation is false—he didn’t even care to hear my side of the story. Those are mere semantics to this man.

“Thank you, Mayor Withmore,” I say with an acknowledging nod. “Mrs. Withmore. What brings you out and about tonight?”

“Just one of those impromptu date nights,” Mrs. Withmore says, a twinkle in her light brown eyes. “As always.”

Although they seem very out of place in this sports bar, I happen to know that they come here often. Because the sports teams generate a lot of revenue for the city, it benefits the Withmores to be engaged with the people who enjoy the games. Not to mention, businesses like this one help promote the local teams, in turn benefiting the mayor.

“Very cool.” I have no idea whether or not I’m supposed to carry the conversation, so I stand there, waiting, wondering what they could possibly want to talk to me about. Then suddenly, Mayor Withmore’s expression turns pensive, and I can hear the stopwatch in my head begin ticking loudly. I know what’s coming in three … two … one…