Boldly by Elise Faber

Chapter Fourteen

Hazel

Prudence Hansley was a hoot.

Hazel was thrilled she was coming to work for the Breakers, especially in Oliver’s department.

She knew the man had good taste.

But his hiring of Pru cemented that.

Pru and Hazel had been friends for near on six years now.

Hazel had been finishing up her doctorate and writing a thesis on mental health for collegiate athletes. Pru had been one of the athletes she’d interviewed and worked with at OSU. It had been a bonus to be at such a great school with such great athletes, but it had been a bigger bonus to have one with so many talented female athletes.

The biggest bonus?

Meeting Pru.

She was awesome.

And now Pru was going to be here for at least part of the time. Case in point, her coming in early so she could meet up with Hazel for a drink at their favorite place in town.

CeCe’s had the best bar food.

Mozzarella sticks. Cheese curds. Nachos topped with five blends of cheese. Jalapeño poppers (with, no surprise, extra cheese).

They had things like wings and fries and chicken strips.

But she and Pru tended to stick to the dairy-based side of the menu. It went better with the girlie cocktails they liked to order.

Tonight?

Cosmos.

Next time?

Maybe hurricanes, but they were laying off those for their current get-together considering that they’d both had too many of the alcohol-laden drinks that went down like juice the last time they were together, and Pru needed to be coherent for her first day on the new job the following day.

So, it was evening.

It was chilly.

The sky was clear, the moon was full, and she was in CeCe’s with one of her closest friends who was going to be working with her instead of several states away. Halftime because Oliver—and seriously, did he get more awesome?—had offered her a half-remote position so she could keep playing. Even though her playing career was a bit in limbo and she wasn’t sure she’d be returning to the NWHL next season because she’d been fending off back injuries for a while and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to continue playing. The want was there. Her body being ready for it?

That was to be determined.

But Oliver hadn’t made her make that choice—work over playing.

He’d made it so she could do both.

And even if Hazel hadn’t already been falling for him—let it be stated clearly that she was obviously falling for him—the care he’d taken for her friend, the support he’d shown, yeah, that would have done it.

“So, are you excited?” she asked Pru when her adrenaline-seeking friend finally stopped chattering about the adventures she was planning for the off-season because Pru only had a few games left—

Let it be noted that Hazel wasn’t going shark diving with her off the coast of South Africa.

Though Pru had asked. Several times.

Shark diving was a step too far for Hazel’s meager daredevil abilities.

Frankly, it was approximately a thousand steps too far.

“For the shark diving that you’re going to do with me?” Pru waggled her brows. “Yes, really excited since my bestest friend in the whole world is coming with me.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “You mean Beth is going with you? I’m sure she’d love that.”

A snort, then a grin, albeit chagrined. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“That you told me in a situation where the lifeboat was sinking that you’d save Beth and throw me overboard?”

“Beth doesn’t know how to swim!” Pru protested.

“You love her more. I know how it is.”

“I—”

Their server brought their first course of cheese—aka cheese curds—and their first round of cosmos.

“I don’t love her more,” Pru said when the server had gone.

“I’m just teasing,” Hazel assured her. “Which you know but are trying to make me feel guilty for.”

Mischief on pretty, delicate features that shouldn’t be associated with a tough, strong hockey player. It was a hilarious juxtaposition for someone as kickass as Pru to look like a fairy. But she did. And it meant plenty of people hadn’t taken her seriously over the years.

But she usually changed their minds in just a few seconds.

Onthe ice that was.

Off it, that was a different story.

Pru didn’t take much seriously.

She lived big and brash and was always getting into adventures that made Hazel’s already curly hair, go more curly, just by proxy. And maybe a little gray.

She’d done Machu Picchu. She’d climbed Kilimanjaro. She’d talked about Everest (though thank fuck had decided against it). Kite surfing, sky diving, river rafting, bungee jumping, cave diving. If there was an adventure in it, Pru was all over it.

And doing it with zeal.

She lived, and Hazel thought Pru was amazing.

She still didn’t want to go shark diving.

Clogging her arteries with fried cheese?

Yeah, that was an adventure she could do.

“Would I try to make you feel guilty?” Pru asked, attempting innocence. But she was far from innocent and Hazel knew that, so she just lightly punched Pru on the arm.

“Um. Yes,” she said, “you would definitely try to make me feel guilty.”

“Rude.” Pru snatched the basket of curds. “Then I’m not sharing.”

“I’m the rude one?” Hazel snatched them back. “I’m not the friend trying to guilt the other one into shark diving.”

“I’m—”

“Holy shit,” Pru breathed, and Hazel knew she was truly distracted and not trying to fake her out by pretending there was something behind them so she could steal the fried cheese back because Pru let go of the basket without a peep. “Who is that?”

Still holding on to the basket, because Pru could be sneaky, Hazel shifted and turned to see a trio of huge walk into the bar.

And at the front of the trio was Marcel.

Who Pru’s eyes seemed to be glued to.

Hmm.

But before she could do more than slant a glance to Pru to see her practically drooling over Marcel, who was trailed by Smithy and Raph, she watched Luca, Theo, and Martin follow them into the room. There was a reason Pru was drooling. Marcel was gorgeous. A jawline that could cut through ice, deep brown eyes. His nose was a little crooked, his cheekbones high, and there was a scar that sliced through his right eyebrow. Maybe those parts didn’t sound pretty together.

But he was.

Fucking beautiful.

And his body was…lean strength mixed with bulges in all the right places—arms, ass, pecs, thighs.

So yeah, he was totally drool-able.

But the man who walked in behind the six guys was the only one that made Hazel’s heart skip a beat. Oliver’s eyes seemed to go straight toward hers, warming, at the same time that Pru whispered, “Sweet baby Jesus, the man said to get you here, but he didn’t say anything about bringing a half-dozen specimens for bean-flicking material.”

“Bean-flick—” Hazel blinked, focused on the more important part of that statement. “Who said to get me here?”

A hand sliding down her spine. A chest coming close. Warm breath in her ear.

“Babe.”

She shuddered; knuckles drifted across her cheek.

“Hi, Oliver,” Pru sing-songed. “Who are your friends?”

Hazel shifted to glance up at the man who’d positioned himself at her spine. “Oliver?” she asked archly, breathing deeply to steady her racing heart. “Did you get Pru to bring me here?”

Half of his mouth curved. She wanted to kiss it. “I might have suggested that she buy you a drink, and”—he paused when the server came over with a full tray of food, of their cheesy delight—“apparently the entire kitchen’s quantity of fried food?” he finished on a question.

“Oh my God, mozzarella sticks,” Smithy murmured, reaching for the basket almost before it hit the table.

“No!” Pru smacked his hand away. “These are for us.” She narrowed her eyes when Smithy reached again. “Don’t make me break your hand, Connor Smith.”

“You need cheese curds, mozzarella sticks, a giant plate of nachos, and jalapeño poppers?”

“Yes,” Pru said. “And chili cheese fries and a Philly cheesesteak, and those are all for us.” Her chin came up, and Hazel watched the fairy fade into the badass hockey player. “You want food, you order it, but you don’t take ours.”

Smithy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

A screech drew everyone’s focus. Or at least the six of them that weren’t moving chairs. Because apparently, Marcel, Martin, and Raph had skipped the cheese standoff and were bringing stools over. Stools they crammed around the table that was meant for maybe six normal people, but definitely not seven bulky hockey players, one fairy-type hockey player, and one normal woman.

Thus, she was plastered against Oliver.

And frankly, it wasn’t a bad place to be.

Though she couldn’t let his maneuvering stand without at least pushing back a little bit. Which meant when he tried to snatch a popper, she smacked his hand away.

His brows raised.

“No poppers for men who manipulate my friends”—she narrowed her eyes—“who is going to be their employee.”

“Oh, there’s no manipulation,” Pru called from across the table. “I asked that one if he knew you well. He told me he’s been trying to get you to agree to a date.” Hazel almost choked on her tongue as six male pairs of hockey player eyes came to her (not seven because Oliver’s hadn’t left her since he’d perched himself on the stool next to hers and yanked her flush up next to him).

“You won’t date my boy?” Smithy asked.

More tongue choking.

Then she lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “He says we’ve already been on five dates.” A glare up at him. “But technically, I don’t believe you’ve actually asked me—”

“Really?”

She thought back. “No, I don’t believe you’ve ever said, Hazel Reid, would you go out on a date with me?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Hazel Reid, would you go out on a date with me?”

“I—” Her mouth opened and closed. How did she answer that?

Easy. Yes! her brain screamed.

But in front of six of the biggest gossips on the team? And a woman who would probably go straight to the top of that gossip list, thus usurping Smithy and the rest of them to become the biggest?

Pru started cackling.

At one with the gossip squad already.

Marcel, who she was starting to realize was the only nice one in the group (hmph!), took pity on her and picked up the menus that were stashed behind a bucket that held condiments, napkins, and silverware at the end of the table. He passed them around and said, “I want nachos. Who’s going to share with me?”

“Me!” Pru called, and pushed the plate to the man sitting next to her.

How she’d maneuvered that, Hazel didn’t know.

Except that she was Pru, and Pru could manage anything if she put her mind to it.

Smithy, meanwhile, leveled a glare at her. “Seriously? You’ll share with him but not with me?”

“Yup.” Pru picked up a chip and popped it into her mouth. “Because he’s pretty, and you’re not.”

Smithy gaped, momentarily at a loss for words, which was a freaking miracle in and of itself because Smithy without words wasn’t something that ever happened. But put him up next to Pru? And apparently miracles could happen.

At least for a few moments.

Because he was Smithy, he recovered quickly. “You think Marcel’s pretty?”

A nod. Another chip into her mouth. “Uh-huh,” she said around the bite.

Let it be noted that Marcel still hadn’t taken a single chip.

“But I’m not,” Smithy said.

“Nope.” There was a pop on the P sound that made Marcel jump, but he tentatively reached for a chip and placed it in his mouth. “You’re manly in a way that’s very take-me-to-bed-and-fuck-me-senseless”—Marcel choked—“but no, sorry, honey, but you’re not pretty.”

The table was quiet.

Hazel glanced up, saw Oliver’s mouth was parted in surprised shock.

She leaned in, whispered in his ear, “Didn’t know you were getting that, did you?”

His head slowly turned so he could meet her eyes. His lips were close, near enough that if she moved the slightest bit, their mouths would touch. “She is—” Mentally, Hazel braced. If he had a problem with Pru, even after he’d hired her, it would be a problem. Not with the job. She knew that Oliver wouldn’t be the kind of guy to do something that would affect that, just because Pru was throwing sass. But if he didn’t like Pru out in real life, that would be…well, it would make Hazel feel yucky because Pru was her friend. “—awesome,” he breathed, astonishment in his gaze.

Awesome.

She felt that against her lips.

She wanted to feel it against her tongue.

So…

Fuck it.

She kissed him.

In front of the seven biggest gossips.

She just…kissed the wonderful, sexy man, who’d gotten a date six before he’d even gotten a date one, who touched her cheek gently, who tucked her into his side and held her like she was precious, and who…she wanted.

Just quite simply, wanted.

Oliver didn’t hesitate. He kissed her back, tongue and teeth and lips, his arms banding around her, his mouth sending her soaring in just seconds.

But before she fully flew off into space, she heard Pru say, “Well, I think that means Oliver is getting a first date.”