Perfect Sense (Perfect Series Book 1) (6 page)

The women surrounding the perimeters scream his name, over and over and over again, making me really uncomfortable. A pretty blonde reporter asks him questions, but I can’t hear anything she asks or anything he responds over the noise. But whatever is coming out of his mouth has him smiling and showcasing his lick-able dimples on both sides of his scruffy cheeks.

“What are you getting, honey?” the lady behind the counter asks.

“Hot cocoa. Two please.”

My body feels warm and everything intensifies, from my heartbeat, to my breathing to the prickling on my skin. When my gaze finds its way back to the crowd, Cash’s eyes are on me. The intensity in his smile when our eyes meet, has me so jittery and vulnerable that when the lady behind the counter passes me the hot cocoa I ordered, the trembling of my fingers causes me to spill a few droplets down the front of my shirt. His blue eyes crinkle, and he lets out a chuckle, seeing me fumble, wiping away the wet mess. I blush, stripped by his powerful stare that even has the reporter glancing over her shoulder to search for what has Cash so captivated.

I look away, crammed within the crowd. I’m shoved from behind by some young girl screaming for Cash’s attention. Steadying myself on my feet, I am shuffled back and forth with the movement of females being ushered by security into the stairwells of the arena to find their seats. When I look back up, Cash is gone. My senses ignite, feeling his eyes, crashing into me from a few feet away. He smiles at me amid the chaos and mouths, “Nice, Mitts.”

In a blink of an eye, Dwight, the general manager, leads Cash into the elevator. When he steps onto the platform with his entourage close behind, he gives me a wink before the shiny silver doors shut on his perfectly sculpted face.

Chapter 4

The instant he steps onto the ice my heart races. When the crowd around us sees him bolt out from behind the bench, his chants of praise tear throughout the arena. The crowd goes wild when Cash slams the opposing team’s star player into the boards, cutting across the ice with the puck dancing against his stick. He’s on fire tonight. My nerves tingle and my insides burn with desire watching him carry the puck up the right side and pass it across the ice. Louis cradles the puck with his stick, pushing past an opposing defender and takes a shot on net.

The puck bounces off the red metal bars, never meeting the white mesh net, freeing the goalie from a black assault. In an instant, Cash is all over the opposing end zone, his stick connecting with the loose puck. His thick broad arms extend back, his stick high in the air ready to explode with force and capture the rebound. The second his blade connects with the puck, it pierces through the air and bypasses the goalie.

The sirens go off and flicker throughout the arena. A mad hysteria of cheers echoes into the rafters and all around the rink. Louis’s arms extend in praise and his smile is a mile long. He engulfs his arms around Cash, slamming him up against the glass. When Cash connects with the boards, eight guys in the crowd with B-R-U-I-S-E-R-S painted on their chests pound their fists against the glass and howl like maniacs. A few other teammates on the ice follow, patting Cash on the back and on the top of his helmet.

Vaughn leans over giggling. “Somebody sure likes to show off. I bet that one was for you Quinny.”

One down, two more to go
…I think to myself, swallowing hard. Was he actually serious? A hat trick equals dinner? Oh God…

Cash climbs over the boards and locks eyes with me. My heart picks up speed when he smirks at me from behind the bench. The way he makes me feel is seriously overwhelming. Not only is downright sexy, but he is one hell of a hockey player.

“Miss Ashby?” says a young boy wearing a Bruisers jersey from the concrete steps.

“Yes,” Lyndsey and I both reply in sync.

The boy looks confused, and nervously glances over at Cash, whose focus is back on the game.

“I bet you’re looking for Quinn, aren’t you?” Lyndsey asks.

The boy nods and takes a step forward, looking right at me. “This is for you, from Mr. Brooks.” He reaches across the aisle and hands me a small white box.

“Omigod, what are you waiting for? Open it already,” Lyndsey shouts.

I try my hardest to suppress a smile, when I see four of the most beautifully decorated cupcakes hand frosted a vibrant purple and sculpted to resemble a rose. A little yellow sticky is stuck on the inside of the box in his messy handwriting that says,
Swooned yet?

“Omigod! He sent you cupcakes? How sweet is that?” Lyndsey shrieks.

And as much as I want to admit I am more than swooned, I will never give him the satisfaction. A guy like Cash is used to getting his way using his money and charm to make all the right moves and says all the right things. Tonight is supposed to be professional business interaction so I can get him to back off of Theo. Not an attempt to sneakily win me over.

I politely close the box, when the boy pipes up again. “These are for you too.”

He reaches over a few fans, handing me four VIP passes to the team party happening after the game in the
Bruisers Bar
.

I shake my head. “I can’t accept these.”

I know the hockey world well enough to know that the girls invited to these after-parties are there for one reason and one reason only—to be passed around for after-game sex.

I glare at Cash sneakily watching me from the bench and then turn to face the young boy. “Please send my regrets to Mr. Brooks and have these returned to him.”

“What are they?” Olivia asks.

“Oh no you don’t!” Lyndsey shrieks, yanking the passes out of my hand.

From my peripheral vision I see the muscles in his neck tense and tighten from the bench.

“Brooks! Get ready!” Coach Bartley shouts, snapping his attention back to the game. He looks at me one last time, nostrils flaring, before he breaks onto the ice.

“Are you nuts, Lyndsey? Dad would freak if he found out we went to the team after party. It’s puck bunny central. I can’t go there tonight and then expect to have a working relationship with these guys’ tomorrow. Not one of them will respect me or take me seriously. It’s a bad idea,” I snatch the VIP passes out of her hand.

“You don’t have to go. We will.” Vaughn laughs, tugging the passes free from my trembling fingers. “I could use some hockey cock tonight. I was already eyeing up number eleven.”

“That’s disgusting, Vaughn. Don’t you have any respect for yourself? You do know what this party is all about?” I ask, flabbergasted.

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I want to go,” she says. “A girl’s got to have some fun too.”

“Fine, you and Lyndsey can go and disrespect yourselves. I’ll catch a cab home with Olivia,” I say, looking over at her for support.

Olivia winces. “Actually, I think I want to go too.”

“Ha. Ha. Looks like you’re out numbered, Quinn,” Lyndsey says in a singsong voice. “Besides, aren’t you even a little bit curious? I’ve asked Louis a million times to get me into a post-game party and he always tells me no.”

I shake my head not at all surprised that Louis wouldn’t invite the new President’s twenty-one-year-old daughter he clearly has a crush on, to attend one of these parties.

Louis is a true gentleman, unlike Mr. Brooks.

“That’s because Louis likes you, and the last thing he wants is for you to get drunk and taken advantage of by every single player on the team,” I remind her.

“So what? Cash totally wants to fuck you and he’s letting you know it! That’s so hot. Stop being so uptight and let loose for once,” Lyndsey says.

“Are you going to take them?” the young boy shouts over the rumblings of the crowd. “I kind of have to let Mr. Brooks know if he can be expecting you.”

I look over at Lyndsey, batting her big brown eyes and giving me one of her charming little pouts. I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’ll go. But you owe me, Lyndsey Ashby.”

“Yes!” Lyndsey shouts looking up at the young boy still waiting patiently on the steps. “We’re keeping them. You can tell Mr. Brooks not to worry; his precious Quinn will be there.”

During the rest of the game, every time he scores a goal (two more to be exact, getting that promised hat trick) or finds his way into the penalty box after a fight, he never forgets to look my way and give me one of his smug smiles.

By the time the buzzer ending the third period ricochets into the rafters, the crowd goes wild celebrating the Bruisers first shutout this season with their 4 -0 win, when I hear a deep male voice say, “Miss Ashby?”

Now what?

I turn my head to see a tall and lanky man dressed in a black pinstripe suit. He stands firmly on the concrete step, staring down our row while the crowd fumbles around him, leaving the arena. He looks like he is in his mid-thirties, his copper hair short and spiky.

“Mr. Brooks asked that I escort you and your friends to the VIP area,” he says with a half-smile.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” I ask.

Taking a step forward he says, “I’m Terry Young. I’m Cash’s agent’s executive assistant. Now, if you’ll please follow me…”

Lyndsey pushes past me. “Omigod, Cash is amazing. Does he always send you to escort his ladies to the team after party?”

Terry shakes his head with a laugh. “No, this is my first. He normally doesn’t have to worry much about the women he selects not showing up for him.”

Rolling my eyes, I follow behind my sister and her two giggling girlfriends.

Following Terry along the gray corridors, we hook a left into a closed off section leading us a few more feet over to the private access elevator. He smiles back at the four of us, and swipes his key card letting the stainless steel doors slide open.

Walking through the doors of the
Bruisers Bar
, I feel like I stepped into the Playboy mansion. The bar is dimly lit with lights emulating a soft red glow. There are tons of girls inappropriately dressed, in barley-there outfits and abnormally high heels. Everyone is holding glass tumblers, filled with either a dark or clear liquid, and chatting over the music that some of the drunker girls are dancing to.

Once Terry leads us over to the bar, I look down at my ballet flats, skinny jeans, paisley scarf and scowl. I am so underdressed. Even the men here are formally dressed in expensive three-piece suits. Vaughn must notice my discomfort because she drapes her arm around my shoulders. “It’s your own fault, Quinny. A lady’s number one rule—never leave the house without a pair of heels.”

I roll my eyes and whisper, “Well, I didn’t think I’d end up at a high-class brothel after the game.”

Terry turns around from leaning against the bar. “Ladies, please wait here while I escort Miss Ashby to Mr. Brooks.”

Lyndsey pipes in with, “Of course, no problem.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I say. I don’t trust myself all alone against those sexy dimples. I’m not going anywhere.

“But Mr. Brooks specifically—”

“No, Terry. I’m fine here, thank you.”

“But Miss Ashby—”

“I said I’m fine here with my friends. Thank you.”

“Okay, I will let Mr. Brooks know,” Terry replies, before heading into the crowd.

“What is wrong with you?” Lyndsey hisses once Terry is out of sight. “This is Cash fucking Brooks! How many times to do I have to say it?”

“Exactly, and flocking to him like he’s some sort of God is exactly what he’s expecting. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.”

The girls happily chat and sip their drinks, ogling the players as they funnel into the party from the back door. I zone out of their conversation, letting my nerves take over. Even though I sounded strong and sure of myself in front of the girls, inside I am a wreck, because I have no idea how I will react once I see him. During the game, it was easy to keep my cool. The glass that separated us made me feel safe and in control from his gorgeous grin. But now, at this party, I’ve made myself vulnerable to his incessant charm.

I am about to take a sip from my drink when I see him. His back is to me, his wavy honey hair luscious and slick. He is wearing a dark grey, extra slim fit three piece-suit that hugs his athletic physique. His pants tighten perfectly around his behind and show off his insanely muscular ass.

He shifts to the side, revealing why his arrogant grin is so big. My heart stops, seeing two tiny blondes huddled together, gawking up at him. One of them is in a tight blue dress, golden curls flowing past her fake breasts and the other is wearing stripper heels, running her hand down his chest, dipping lower, suggestively.

My lips twitch with jealously, watching him stroke his scruffy chin, before he leans forward and whispers something in the girl wearing the blue dresses’ ear. She giggles and looks over at her friend, batting her long mascara filled lashes at Cash the whole time.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Louis’s angry voice turns my attention from Cash and back to the girls.

Lyndsey straightens up a bit. “Cash invited us.”

“What? Seriously?” Louis shakes his head. “You really shouldn’t be here, Lynds.” He takes a sip form his drink and nods at me. “And neither should you.”

Before I can even respond, two strong hands cup my shoulders, pulling me into a hard warm chest. “Hey, Quinn,” a voice whispers in my ear. I slowly turn around to see Viktor smiling down at me. “What a nice surprise. I thought I’d have to wait until the next team event before I saw you again.”

Leaning against the bar, Louis swirls around the ice cubes in his drink, staring at Lyndsey and her cleavage. “Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I don’t see why he’d care,” Lyndsey says, lifting her chin at him.

“You know this isn’t a place for girls like you.”

Lyndsey scowls and pushes his head back with the palm of her hand. Louis’s brow furrows and he straightens his tie.

“Who are your friends?” Viktor interrupts, shifting his eyes between Vaughn and Olivia.

“This is Vaughn and this is Olivia,” I say.

Viktor leans forward and shakes their hands, introducing himself, then he shifts his gaze back to me. “You look really cute by the way.”

“Cute?” I laugh uncomfortably. “I’m a little underdressed, don’t you think?”