Ballsy Read online

  Ballsy

  Breakers Hockey #4

  Elise Faber

  BALLSY

  BY ELISE FABER

  Newsletter sign-up

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  * * *

  BALLSY

  Copyright © 2022 Elise Faber

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-63749-046-4

  Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-63749-045-7

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Contents

  Breakers Hockey Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Bewitched

  Untitled

  Breakers Hockey Series

  Also by Elise Faber

  About the Author

  Breakers Hockey Series

  Broken

  Boldly

  Breathless

  Ballsy

  Bewitched

  One

  Smitty

  He’d found her.

  One look, and he’d known.

  Quiet where he was loud. Smart when he wasn’t.

  Pretty…well, he’d never been and would never be considered pretty.

  She was walking down the halls of the practice facility, earbuds in, eyes on the tablet in front of her, totally oblivious to anything except what she was concentrating on.

  Certainly, she was oblivious that she was…his.

  But he’d known.

  Just like Pru had said.

  He’d seen the slender column of her throat, the narrow shoulders, and long, long legs, and his heart had kicked.

  Hard.

  Hard enough that even a big brute like him had paid attention.

  Stopped him dead in his tracks, sweat dripping down his spine, his temples, his beard.

  And she?

  She’d walked by without noticing him. Him. A man of his size didn’t get missed. Everyone knew that he was there. Because if his size didn’t get their attention, then certainly his voice would.

  But…he hadn’t spoken when she’d walked by.

  Because of that heart kicking, and he’d also had some lung squeezing action happening. Which meant that any hope of talking to her—her!—had disappeared.

  He’d been reduced to emitting nothing more than a quiet sort of gurgling sound, and that had, luckily, been missed by her because of the earbuds she’d been wearing.

  And now, still sweating, he was following her.

  Trying to think of something charming and witty that would get her to realize that he was hers, and then they’d have their happy ending, and everything would be fucking cool.

  Like Pru and Marcel.

  Like Hazel and Oliver and their new baby.

  Like Luc and Lexi.

  She’d paused outside an office—empty, he knew. Or maybe not empty any longer, he realized, seeing the new nameplate attached to the wall.

  Kailey Henderson.

  One piece of the puzzle solved.

  Next, convincing her that she was his soul mate.

  He walked up behind her, stood close as she pushed open the office door, caught the wooden panel before it shut. She didn’t seem to notice that it didn’t close, that he’d followed her inside.

  Earbuds. Dangerous.

  But he’d discuss that with her later.

  He moved to the desk, leaned a hip against it, and waited until she noticed him. Maybe she’d missed him in the hall. But in an enclosed space, this close to her person, and eventually she would spot him.

  And she did.

  Five minutes later.

  Probably because impatience had gotten the better of him and he was rocking his leg back and forth, shaking her desk.

  She stood up, pulled out her earbuds.

  Smitty opened his mouth.

  “Not interested,” she said.

  And then she spun on her heel, pushed out through her office door, and disappeared down the hall.

  Two

  Kailey

  This was her own personal form of hell.

  Peopling.

  Twinkling lights hung overhead on the warm September evening, woven through the lush greenery of Luc and Lexi (neé Hallbright) Masterson’s house.

  It was the annual Breakers Team Bonding Extravaganza.

  Which, she was learning, was really an excuse for a team competition.

  Team being a group of people that apparently included her.

  Not because she played hockey. Hell, she was allergic to sports. She didn’t watch them, didn’t play them. The closest she’d gotten to them before her friend Oliver had convinced her to uproot her life (which, admittedly, wasn’t much of one, but moving to Baltimore had still been the biggest, scariest thing she’d ever done) was in P.E.

  And if this was her personal hell now, P.E. was a special brand of hell from her past.

  Soccer. Shudder. Track. Double that. Kickball. Basketball. Dodge ball—

  Okay, anything with balls was bad.

  Bad for her.

  Bad for her glasses.

  Bad for—

  Her gaze drifted to the right, to the big broad man who’d come into her office a week before, interest in his eyes.

  Interest she’d shut down with a sharp statement.

  And since then, he hadn’t given her a second look.

  Which was what she’d wanted. She knew men like him. She knew what men like him did with girls like her.

  That being…nothing.

  Maybe she looked okay on the outside.

  But her inside was a mess.

  A. Mess.

  And when people got a glimpse of that mess, they ran.

  Not that she could blame them.

  So. Balls. Bad for her.

  Moving on…to the Team Competition/Bonding Extravaganza, and the moment she’d found out that the bonding wasn’t supposed to just involve the players, as she’d thought when she’d let former player (and maybe former friend) and her current boss, Oliver, strong-arm her into coming.

  Nope.

  It involved all the team.

  Including the support staff.

  Including her.

  And if she were allergic to balls of all types, she was allergic to competition even more.

  Which was why she was currently sidling toward the bushes, intending to use them as a shield before she got the hell out of there, drove home, and spent the next three hours in a bath reading her thriller and turning into a prune.

  “And then”—Lexi declared, pulling out a small flower from amongst a large flat of them, a la Madame Sprout in the good ol’ HP—“you’ll pick
your plant, stick it in a pot, and the person with the healthiest flower at the end of the…”

  Now.

  She darted, intending to slip around, escape out the open side gate—

  “Oof.”

  She bounced off something hard and big, someone hard and big and who smelled nice and who she was really trying to avoid because he was hot, no doubt, but he also had balls.

  Unfortunately, he was also currently blocking her escape route.

  “Kailey.”

  His voice rumbled through the air, slid down her nape, vibrated along her spine, hands coming out to steady her.

  Conner Smith, defenseman for the Breakers.

  Her mouth opened, preparing another sharp sentiment, another barb that would keep him from getting too close.

  Attack.

  Run.

  Safe.

  Her motto.

  But then it happened.

  It.

  The most frustrating it in the world because she understood her triggers and tried to move past them and worked fucking hard at it to be—or at least appear like she was—a functional human being. Yeah, sometimes she wanted to sneak out of events and drown herself in her books (not the bathtub—it hadn’t gotten that bad in years), but she could put on the façade of the quiet, introverted friend.

  But sometimes it just happened.

  A new or unforeseen trigger jumped up and latched its teeth into her, gripping her tight, shaking her roughly from side to side like a dog with a stuffed toy.

  And her façade threatened to drop.

  The mess threatened to escape.

  Today, it was because of his thumb.

  He’d steadied her, hands gripping lightly to the outsides of her arms, sitting on the sleeves of her blouse.

  But his thumb…his thumb drifted down and caught her skin, the calloused fingertip making her shiver.

  A strong sensation when she needed nothingness, when she needed quiet and less stimulation and for her heart that had already begun to race to chill the fuck out, for the restless energy that had been coiling inside her from the moment she’d agreed to come that night to calm. Instead, that touch of his skin to hers pulled her right into the moment, dumped her right back into the heaviness of what she’d been trying to escape.

  The people. The noise. The obligations. The fragility of her façade.

  It all tore through her.

  And she couldn’t snap at him. She couldn’t shove him away or declare sharply that she wasn’t interested in him.

  She couldn’t do anything.

  “You okay?”

  Couldn’t speak to answer that question, couldn’t step away to get away from that thumb, couldn’t look away when he crouched low enough to meet her eyes, his own filled with concern.

  “Kailey?” he asked again.

  She barely held back her shudder.

  “Come on, everyone,” Lexi called. “Grab your pots and don’t forget that there will be a prize for best name.”

  That time she couldn’t hold the shudder back.

  More competition. More pressure. Over a freaking name.

  His brows furrowed. “Are you o—?”

  “Smitty!” someone yelled, making her jump despite her spiraling efforts to hold herself together. “Come help us move this table!”

  That thumb on her skin moved, and then the rest of his fingers did, tightening slightly. “Stay,” he ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

  But he didn’t immediately let her go, and it took her spinning mind a moment to realize what he was waiting for.

  A reply, she heard her father snap. He’s waiting for a reply, dumb shit.

  Right.

  Normal people replied.

  But she didn’t have it in her for words. So instead, she just nodded.

  Luckily, it was response enough for him to go away.

  He released her, and her lungs loosened slightly. She turned, gaze following him as he moved toward the mass of bodies, toward the men who apparently weren’t happy with the provided space for the competition and needed more space to properly plant and name their flowers.

  He looked back once, eyes hitting hers, that coil in her belly tightening.

  But then his lips turned up just a bit at the corners and the coil relaxed enough so that when he turned back again, grabbed one half of the table and hefted it like it weighed nothing, she took her opportunity.

  She dashed out the side yard.

  She made it to her car, unlocking the driver’s side with shaking hands.

  And then she did what she should have done the moment Oliver issued the invitation—

  Kailey ran.

  Or…drove.

  Escaped.

  Three

  Smitty

  She was gone.

  Hell, he should have known that she wouldn’t stay, just because he’d asked…or okay, maybe ask was less than accurate. Because he’d commanded that she stay like she was a dog.

  Right.

  He should work on that.

  But he got a little stupid when it came to one Kailey Henderson.

  Probably because she had the prettiest pair of green eyes he’d ever had the privilege of seeing. Long legs and shining brown hair. Pale blue glasses that sat atop a freckle-dotted nose. A top lip fuller than the bottom. High cheekbones. Long lashes.

  He’d spent a week studying her every chance he could steal a look.

  And he was ready.

  To convince her to give him a chance.

  Yeah, he was big and clumsy and not the prettiest to look at. But he was great at making people laugh, and he was loyal and he was strong.

  He could be a good partner.

  He could.

  He just needed to prove to Kailey that despite his big and unwieldy body, his tendency to be a bit of a loose cannon on the ice, that he could be good for her.

  Of course, he didn’t really know her.

  But he knew…nothing about her.

  Shit.

  That probably wasn’t the best thing for a man who wanted a woman to love him.

  So, plan one was to find out all the things about Kailey he could. Likes. Dislikes. All the small things that would just make her smile. All the big things that were important to her.

  Then he could prove to her that he would make her happy.

  He could make someone happy.

  He could.

  Striding out of the showers, his towel slung around his neck, Smitty ignored the groans as he strode to his stall.

  “Fuck, I didn’t miss that,” Raph muttered, bending over and tying his shoe.

  “My glorious body?” he asked, shaking his ass, and yeah, his dick.

  Which earned him more groans.

  Ha.

  Fuckers.

  The best part of being in a locker room was being able to annoy his teammates.

  Okay, the best part of this locker room was being able to play with these guys.

  He could be himself.

  And they might bitch and give him shit, but ever since Luc had begun making changes a few seasons ago, the team had gelled in a way that meant he’d never had a better experience, never wanted to play somewhere else.

  Plus, he got to shoot a rubber disc at a net—well, at a goalie within a net—be naked a lot and in a way that didn’t get him arrested, and he got to travel.

  That was one of his favorite things to do.

  Maybe he didn’t get a ton of time to play tourist, but he had a job that brought him to different cities, and he took advantage of that.

  He found the small hole-in-the-wall restaurants.

  He hiked or visited random-ass museums.

  He walked around, saw shit, met people.

  It was epic.

  The groans about his nakedness faded, and he yanked on his underwear before plunking down on the bench, reaching for his shirt and shrugging it on, closing the buttons along the front.

  Then it was socks, slacks, the uncomfortable shoes.

  H
e fucking hated suits, though he did his best to make the most of them—for example, his suit today was an epic blue and green plaid that had elicited the same groans as him coming out of the shower had.

  Maybe he shouldn’t like to torture his teammates…

  But…meh.

  It kept the locker room environment light, and up until the last couple seasons, the team had needed light.

  But now they’d cut the toxic players from the roster, had won two Cups in a row, had good management, great support staff. They were good.

  So now they needed the room light more than ever.

  Because the pressure was on and they needed a way to release it, and he didn’t mind that it was him. His shoulders were big enough to carry it.

  Let the guys laugh at him, groan at his antics, whine about his nakedness.

  If that blew off some much-needed steam, then let that be part of his assistant captain duties.

  “You coming to meet us for udon?” he asked Raph, who was shrugging into his suit jacket.

  His teammate shook his head. “Nah, man. I need to get home to Monica.”

  Monica being the woman Raph had started dating in the off-season. She was tall, thin, blond…and had turned up pregnant.

  The first three Smitty liked about her—and really, who wouldn’t? Plus, he was a fan of women in general—tall, short, curvy, slender, tits, ass, hair long or short, he liked it all. Unfortunately, it was the last, and the rest of her—a little snotty, a lot smirky, even more looking down her nose at him—that he didn’t like as much. But his friend was happy and in fairness, Smitty knew he was a lot. Plus, Hazel had recently been pregnant, too. He’d seen what a big change it was, and paired with the random queasiness, fatigue, and vomiting, he knew that probably made it less than fun.