Page 3 of Slapshot Summer
It was time to hit the meat market and fortify her nerves with some liquid courage … and a nudge from Wanton Woman.
Chapter 2
I Am That Guy
JoshWylderpeeledoffthe hideous shirt his mom had given him.It looked like flamingos had mated with palm trees and barfed out parrots against a neon-blue ocean.He loved his mother, he really did, and he would never be able to pay her back for all he and his brother had put her through even if that aim was his sole focus for the rest of his life, but this shirt … Maggie Wylder was an amazing woman with countless strengths, but fashion wasn’t one of them.
“Ooh, the colors really bring out your eyes, Josh,” she’d gushed.Then she’d added, “You’re going to steal some girl’s heart when you get to that fancy hotel.”More likely scare her away, but he wasn’t looking to attract anyone this week anyway.
He hadn’t bothered asking exactly which colors Mom thought went with the hue of his eyes, unless she was referring to the hot pink and was ribbing him about being hungover a few mornings ago.Never mind that he’d had a really good reason to get wasted.
He held the shirt at arm’s length, pondering whether to drop it in the trash and tell her it had been stolen.No, she’d only go out and replace it, and he didn’t want her spending her dough that way.She’d spent plenty on him and his brother growing up.He and Bradley shared a love for ice hockey, and without any contributions from their absentee dad, that passion had strained their little family’s meager reserves.Mom had always made sure her rambunctious boys had what they needed, though, even if the secondhand gear didn’t fit quite right.
He and his brother had been fattening her bank account since their first big paychecks, but her single-mom frugality was so ingrained in her that Josh understood what it cost her mentally to splurge on this shirt—and “splurge” meant she’d bought off the full retail rack at Walmart.
Yeah, he owed her a fuck ton of good deeds, and he was woefully behind on the paybacks.He would do anything for her—like embarrass himself by wearing the damn thing.It seemed a minuscule price to pay for Maggie Wylder’s endless selfless acts.
He riffled through his bag until he found his favorite T-shirt.Soft and gray—and probably a truer match to his eye color—it sported his brother’s bicycle shop logo.Josh had worn it so many times now the logo was practically unreadable.Mom wouldn’t be a fan of this particular wardrobe choice, but she wasn’t here to judge, and he wasn’t here to impress anyone.He didn’t even want to be here.Why not be comfortable while he spent the week wallowing by himself?
Shucking his jeans, he pulled on an old pair of board shorts.A shove of his fingers to tame his hair and a pair of flip-flops later, he sauntered down to the bar, where he expected to spend the majority of his time for the next seven days—unless he got lucky with some nameless hottie looking for a no-strings fuck.Surprisingly, that didn’t hold a lot of appeal, which was further proof of how down in the dumps he’d let himself sink.Then again, it had been a long time since he’d met a woman who got his motor revving.They all seemed to be … the same.Hooking up had become monotonous.Downright boring.And since he’d gotten away from clubbing and partying, fewer interesting possibilities crossed his path anyway.Not that he was looking, but as he watched one buddy after another fall hard—and seem happier for it—Josh sometimes wondered what he was missing.
His brother’s voice bounced around his brain.“Think of all the beach babes at the resort in string bikiniseverywhere.Just tell them you’re a pro hockey player, and you won’t be able to peel them off you fast enough.You might even be able to get yourself a twosome … a three—” Josh had cut him off there.Bradley had been living vicariously through Josh since his own career had stalled in the minor leagues, and his brother’s imagination had far outstripped Josh’s reality.Sure, he’d been dubbed “Wild Man” by his teammates for more than his acrobatic, unorthodox saves, but the moniker simply didn’t fit his lifeoffthe ice anymore.And he was fine with that, even if Brad wasn’t.At thirty-two, those days were in his rearview mirror—especially now that he found himself without a contract or a team.
And there it was again, reality staring him down.He’d worked his ass off to be the best goalie he could be, but it had garnered him a glove full of nothing.
Could he even call himself a professional goalie anymore?Philly hadn’t renewed his contract, even for a backup role, which he would have groveled for had they given him any indication they wanted him.No other teams were trying to punch his dance card either, whether as a starter or a backup.
“Give it time,” his agent, Herb, had told him when they’d spoken the week before.“There’s always a lull right after a Cup run.Things’ll pick up as we get closer to training camp.”
Training camp for most teams started in early September—only six weeks away.
“Shouldn’t they want to lock me upnow?”he’d argued.“GMs and coaches want their rosters setbeforecamp, right?”
Herb had waved him off, and for an instant, Josh had felt like he’d been marooned alone on Crazy Island.“You’re making a mountain out of an anthill, son.”But Josh wasn’t convinced his agent was right this time.He hadn’t been without a team since he’d first been drafted fourteen years ago.The fact that he didn’t have a landing place for the upcoming season fucking sucked balls.
He needed to lock the thought away in a compartment for now—which meant it was cocktail time.
The bar was an indoor-outdoor space, an extension of the lush grounds beyond, where sun played on glossy palm fronds ruffled by a warm breeze.Josh picked a barstool with a panoramic view of the gardens and the bar area itself, which was filled with people seated at scattered tables.From his perch, he had a perfect front-row seat to human dramas and foibles—and he delighted in the fact that he was merely a spectator.
Happy hour had just started, so he ordered two rum old-fashioneds from a friendly bartender—Matt, according to his name tag—and settled in.A guy about Josh’s age sidled up and pointed at the empty barstool beside him.
“Mind if I—”
“Go for it,” Josh invited.
The guy extended his hand.“Neil Afton.Didn’t I see you on the shuttle?”
Josh shook the dude’s hand.“Josh Wylder.Maybe.I slept the whole way.”Something about riding on a bus always made him fall asleep quickly, even when he wasn’t tired—a habit he’d developed after years of team travel.
Neil looked around, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.“Really enjoying the scenery so far.”
Matt delivered Josh’s drinks and took Neil’s order.
Josh tasted his cocktail.Damn, that was good!“So, Neil, what do you do?”
“I’m the chief financial officer for HelpFirst Healthcare.”
A sign on the boards at Josh’s home rink flashed in his mind.“No kidding?Aren’t you guys one of the sponsors for Keystone Arena?”
