Prince Pucking Charming Read online

  I thought I did everything right with Kat and the twins. But I screwed up. She’s only a few months out of college and now pregnant with that asshole’s baby. I never thought Kat would date a professional hockey player, not after everything our mom went through with our dad.

  I close my eyes and try to block out the pain, the feelings, and everything swimming through my head and chest. My muscles relax after a while, my body coming down from the rush of adrenaline. Sometimes, I think my anger will swallow me whole. If it weren’t for hockey, I would have no outlet—no way to expel some of this rage.

  An hour later, Marcel pushes open my bedroom with his cell phone in his hand. I share a house in the Washington D.C. area with Marcel, Lucas, and Benji. They’re Canadian and only live here during hockey season. I usually go home to Chicago, where my dad played hockey for the Blackhawks. It’s a tradition for my family to spend the summer together. But now, all of our lives are about to change, Kat’s most of all.

  Marcel runs a hand through his thick, dark hair and then shoves the phone at me. “It’s Austin.” He glances at the broken pieces of my cell phone scattered along the carpet and shakes his head. “Dude, you need to get a handle on that. How many phones have broken this year?”

  “That was the tenth.”

  When I get mad, I tend to lash out and throw whatever I can find. I can’t control myself. Blinded by fury, I see flashes of color and then snap.

  “It’s better than someone’s face.”

  He gives me a strange look and then forces his cell phone into my hand. Annoyed that Austin resorted to calling Marcel, I sit up and raise the phone to my ear.

  “I’m not in the mood, Aus.”

  “How could you do that to Kat?”

  I laugh at his question. “Are you kidding me right now? I didn’t do shit to Kat.”

  “Duke, your reaction was horrible. She’s scared. She needs us. And you flew off the handle like you always do and made her cry.”

  “Shit,” I grunt. “I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t expecting—”

  “None of us were,” Austin interjects. “But you have to deal with the reality that Kat’s pregnant. She’s having a baby!”

  “I can’t believe she was with that asshole the entire time.”

  “I don’t think she was,” Austin admits. “Kat said it only happened recently.”

  “So she gets pregnant by the first guy she hooks up with?”

  “Yeah,” he sighs. “That’s what I got from Kat.”

  “Fuck. How did this happen, Aus? I thought we… We should have…” My chest feels like it’s going to collapse as I choke out the words.

  “Duke, just fucking breathe. Stop hyperventilating. She’s not mom. Kat isn’t dying. This isn’t the end of the world.”

  Austin is the only person who understands me well enough to pull me out of my head. I don’t know how I would have raised Kat and the twins if Austin weren’t there with me. Our childhood sucked. For most of our lives, we either watched our mom slowly die or had to take on our delinquent father’s responsibilities.

  “Duke, listen to me,” Austin says with authority. “Kat can do this. She’s strong like mom. I know you don’t like Dean, but he’ll take care of her. You know he will. It’s not like we haven’t known all along there was a possibility of them being together.”

  “Guys like Dean don’t have female friends,” I mutter. “I always knew he wanted to…” I can’t even finish my thought I’m so pissed off.

  “Why did you turn off your phone?”

  “I broke it.”

  He sighs. “Again? Seriously, bro, you need to chill the fuck out.”

  “My anger gives me a competitive edge,” I say with sarcasm in my tone.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t do it.”

  He knows me so well.

  “No idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “You’re playing in Philly next week.”

  Dean is in his rookie year with the Philadelphia Flyers. Kat and Dean don’t even live in the same city anymore, which means he probably got her pregnant when he visited our house over the summer. Fucking asshole.

  “So,” I mutter. “And you’re in Philly next month.”

  “You know what I’m getting at. Kat will kill you if you rough Dean up.”

  “Like he wouldn’t deserve it? He knew what he was doing with Kat. She deserves so much better than Dean Crawford.”

  “He’s not a bad guy. You just never gave him a chance.”

  Austin is the nice brother. He’s the one everyone goes to when they need their hand held, or their ass wiped.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Austin says to break the silence. “We all want to kill Dean right now. But try to put your bullshit aside and do the right thing for Kat. She needs us.”

  “Yeah,” I say to brush him off. “I’ll try.”

  We’ll see how I feel when I see Dean next week.

  Chapter Three

  Duke

  Fueled by anger and adrenaline, I skate down the ice with one goal in mind—take Dean Crawford out of the game. End his career. There’s nothing I’d love to do more than wipe the ice with him. After getting my baby sister pregnant, I have a few punishments in mind.

  Kat and Austin begged me to leave Dean alone. For a split second, I had considered it. I was planning to respect their wishes. But the second I saw Dean on the ice tonight, I knew I couldn’t let him get away with what he did to Kat. He needs to pay for being so reckless with my sister.

  I’m the one player on the ice you don’t want to mess with unless you have a death wish. Almost everyone in the NHL has had the pleasure of a Baldwin Beatdown. I solve problems with my fists and not-so-subtle checks into the boards that earn me a lot of time in the sin bin. And Dean’s pretty-boy face is about to get introduced to my fist.

  My sister and her child deserve better than the asshole I am desperately trying to catch. But he’s fast. If Dean is good at one thing, it’s running away. Not this time. For the past week, I’ve had the number twenty-four burned into my brain. Ever since my sister confessed that Dean is the father, I waited for this night to come.

  I catch up to Dean at center ice. He looks over his shoulder at me and switches the puck to his weak side. Peeling the gloves from my hands, I throw them on the ice along with my stick. I grab Dean by the collar of his jersey. He attempts to skate away, still in possession of the puck, but as he squirms, he only makes it easier for me to get him to where I want him. Those in attendance at the Wells Fargo Center cheer when I slam Dean into the boards, causing him to lose his balance.

  Marcel comes up from behind us to steal the puck from between our legs, giving me enough room to handle my family business. With a firm grip on Dean’s collar, I tug hard enough that he falls backward and into my chest. I give him a shit-eating grin that he returns with his jaw clenched in anger.

  “This is for Kat and the baby,” I growl into his ear. He looks confused, so I add, “She’s pregnant, you fucking scumbag.”

  The defeated look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He knows he screwed up. No one messes with the Baldwins, most of all, Kat. She reminds me so much of my mother, despite being rough around the edges. Mom made me promise I would take care of Kat and my younger brothers. Messing up Dean’s face is an act of love, a tribute to my sister and our family. Every minute in the penalty box will be worth it.

  Dean’s jersey slides up his back as I slam his pretty-boy face into the Plexiglas. He spins around, still struggling to break free from my grasp, and I hit him with a right hook to the jaw followed by a jab that forces him to his knees. I don’t loosen my grip, not even for a second. Bending over Dean, I land a few more punches, which bloody the ice before two linesmen grab my arms.

  I’m not done with him, not even close. The cheers from the crowd grow louder as I fight the linesmen off and knee Dean in the face. His lifeless body goes limp, and then he falls to the side, his blood smearing the ice. As I thr
ow my hands up in victory, my fist accidentally collides with the jaw of the linesman behind me.

  What did I just do?

  I forgot about the officials waiting to drag me off the ice. The remaining officials are now shoving me out of the way, as doctors rush onto the ice to look at Dean and the linesman I knocked out cold. Everything around me becomes a blur. My teammates surround me, screaming words I can’t make out.

  Some of the Flyers are circling us, with their gloves off and sticks laid down, hoping to get a clean shot at me. My teammates assemble around me to block the other players, even though I don’t need them to shield me from the beating I now deserve. The last player who hit a linesman lost a month’s worth of pay and earned a hefty suspension.

  Was knocking out Dean Crawford worth the money? You bet your ass.

  Before tonight, I was already one of the deadliest defensemen in the NHL. This fight only solidifies my bad boy persona that keeps players at a distance. My dad will be pissed. But I don’t care. Smashing my fist into Dean’s face was cathartic.

  Ever since my dad’s retirement from the league, he’s worked as a commentator for the NHL Network. An incident of this magnitude makes him look bad, especially when he’s the one analyzing this game, probably at this very second. Oops! Sorry, not sorry, Dad.

  As I exit the rink, I don’t bother to look at a single person. I can sense my coach’s disapproving scowl without looking over at him. I have a habit of acting before I think. Now, it’s time to face the consequences.

  * * *

  After I got ejected from the game, the league suspended me for twenty-games. I wish I could say that I regret what I did. I should feel bad for busting open Dean’s pretty face.

  My coach slams the door behind him, leaving me alone with Tom Hartwell, the Capitals general manager. Coach laid into me for an hour. He’s furious with me but made it clear he wants me back on the ice.

  Tom leans forward and folds his hands in front of him with an intimidating stare. “I have good news and bad news.”

  My heart races so fast I can hardly breathe as it attempts to claw its way out of my chest. I cross my arms and lean back in my chair to get comfortable.

  “Just rip off the Band-Aid and give it to me straight,” I say.

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I talked to the owner, smoothed things over, but this is your last chance.”

  I tap my fingers on the chair. “What about playoffs? Will I still be eligible to play?”

  “You’ll be back in time… as long as you agree to our terms.” His stare is hard and cold. “Considering what you did, you’re getting off easy.”

  Annoyed, I groan. “You call twenty games without pay or play easy?”

  “Your father had a lot to do with the leniency this organization has shown you. I’ve known Nick since we were rookies. He was a good player and an even better man. I respect him, and so I’m willing to work with you on this matter. The owner is sick of this shit. There was talk about trading you to another team. You’re becoming too much of a liability.”

  My mouth drops in horror. “Not a trade. I won’t go.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Violating the rules revokes some of the provisions in your contract, making it a lot easier to send you to another team. But I fought for you. Your agent went to bat for you, too. Consider this your last straw. You have to work with me. No more messing around, Duke.”

  “Anything,” I stammer.

  I can’t lose my position on this team. My teammates are like brothers to me. We’re a unit, a family.

  “Once a week, until your suspension is lifted, you’re going to anger management.”

  I cock an eyebrow at him. “You want me to go to therapy?” I shake my head. “No, I’m not spilling my guts to some doctor. My dad tried that shit after my mom died. It doesn’t work on me.”

  “I don’t care if it works,” he growls.

  “Twenty games… but that’s over two months of therapy.”

  He shrugs against his chair, his broad shoulders more prominent in the pale blue oxford that hugs his thick chest. Like me, Tom is a big guy and just as muscular as he was in his prime.

  “This is your only option. Enter treatment or face a possible trade. You don’t want to end up like Alex Parker, do you? Look at where messing with the owner had gotten him.”

  I mull over his words for a few seconds and then nod. Alex Parker, my former teammate, confused the owner’s granddaughter for a puck bunny. They had a sex tape of them in a hotel elevator as proof. Talk about embarrassing. Plus, it wasn’t his first scandal, and this isn’t my first suspension for fighting.

  “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  Tom shakes his head. “Nope. So, what’s it going to be? Make up your mind. Anger management or a trade?”

  I shove a hand through my hair and sigh. “Anger management.”

  “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  I snicker at his comment. Easy for him to say.

  “This could be a good thing for you, Duke. You have a lot of pent up anger you need to get out.”

  “I’m a hockey player. I’m aggressive by nature.”

  Tom laughs. “Look on the bright side. You’ll be back in time for the playoffs. Bide your time and keep your head down. Your dad told me all about the situation with Kat and Dean Crawford. Family issues don’t belong on the ice. Next time you have a problem, take that shit outside. No more screwing around after this suspension is over, or you won’t have a position on this team. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Duke, I’ve known you since you were in diapers,” Tom says, “back when you were missing your front tooth and spit milk on the carpet for fun.”

  I laugh at the memory. I was always defiant, even as a kid.

  “I’ve watched you grow into a talented hockey player,” he continues. “And you’re an asset to this team. But you have issues you need to address off the ice before you can come back. Consider the advice the doctor gives you and use this as a way to learn from your mistakes. Now that you’ve gotten that shit with Crawford out of your system, I expect you to come back mentally and physically stronger and better than ever. No more screwing around. Got it?”

  I lean forward, sinking my elbows into my thighs. “Yeah. So, what quack are you sending me to for the next few months?”

  “The team uses Dr. Devine for cases like these. She’s far from a quack.” He slides a business card across the desk to me. “She’s expecting you tomorrow afternoon. Don’t hit on her,” he says in a firm tone. “You need Dr. Devine on your side if you want to come back. If she tells me this isn’t working out, you’ll be stuck with the second option. So, I would advise you to be on your best behavior.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why would I hit on my doctor?”

  “Because I know your reputation with women.”

  “It won’t be a problem.”

  He tips his head. “Take a better look at her business card.”

  I lift the card from the desk. Dr. Delilah Devine doesn’t look like any doctor I’ve ever met. Long blonde hair sits right above her large breasts, and wide blue eyes stare back at me. She’s gorgeous, her skin pale and freckled, with only a hint of makeup on her face.

  I shove the card into my pocket and then look at Tom. He’s testing me to see if I can control myself.

  He flashes a wicked grin. “Good luck, Duke.”

  I’ll need it.

  Chapter Four

  Delilah

  Sitting behind my desk, I flip through the report from the Flyers game. Duke Baldwin knocked both Dean Crawford and the linesman out cold, all in less than one minute. I missed this game. My daughter spent that night with her dad while Mommy caught up on some much-needed sleep. With my crazy schedule, I rarely get time to myself.

  Over the years, I’ve watched Duke fight his way to another victory. My ex-husband is Duke’s biggest fan, which also makes him our daughter’s favorite player. Ted forced me to watch hundr
eds of hockey games with him while we were married. I never paid much attention. Not until Duke became the star of our home team.

  As I read through Duke’s file, I stare at his picture. His short, dirty blond hair is messy as if he styled it that way on purpose. He looks like a sexy caveman, with broad shoulders that fill out every inch of his jersey, the fabric tight against his muscular chest. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss those full, perfect lips, how it would feel to have him handle me the way he does the players on the ice. His bright blue eyes stare back at me, the color so piercing I can’t wait to see them up close.

  Duke is gorgeous, too good-looking to play hockey. The Baldwins have good genes. His father, Nick, was hot when he was younger, and for his age, he still looks good. Nick has the whole DILF thing going on. I bet Duke will too when he’s Nick’s age.

  I scan the pages, looking for something that will help me make a connection with Duke. A patient must feel comfortable with their doctor. Trust is vital in this business.

  With a history of violence and suspensions from the NHL, it’s no surprise that Duke’s records read more like a rap sheet than a list of accomplishments. I can see the pride on Duke’s face after Dean Crawford’s body hit the ice. In one picture, Duke has his arms raised above his head in victory with a smirk. His looks are somewhat distracting, though as I flip through the pictures, his apparent rage stirs something else inside me—curiosity.

  Why is he so angry? There must be a source. Duke has some deep-seated issues he needs to address. Duke’s file included a full medical evaluation, complete with X-rays from torn ligaments and broken bones. In the six years since he entered the NHL, Duke has done some severe damage.

  I mostly work with professional athletes. After helping the Redskins’ starting quarterback get over his drug dependency and subsequent divorce, word spread that I’m a miracle worker for the athletically gifted. That led to my ex-husband using his political connections to score me this gig with the Washington Capitals.