Yield
Standalone
If I Return
Uncivilized
Love: Uncivilized
Sexy Lies and Rock & Roll
Finding Kyle
PHOTO: MARIE KILLEN
Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, SAWYER BENNETT has written more than thirty books and been featured on both the New York Times and the USA Today bestseller lists on multiple occasions. A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Bennett uses real-life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to
contemporary romance, she writes something for just about everyone. Bennett likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Bennett is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as a full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the good of others and that a bad day can be cured with a great workout, cake, or both.
sawyerbennett.com
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Twitter: @BennettBooks
Read on for an excerpt from
Van
A Cold Fury Hockey Novel
by Sawyer Bennett
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Van
I know I should get up and hit the gym, but I'm feeling too fucking lazy today. We're in the home stretch of the regular season with the first round of the playoffs starting next week. Our practices have been light since we've clinched the top spot and the coaches want us as fresh as possible. I've decided to apply that same reasoning to myself, and it does not bode well for me to take some initiative to hit the gym. I'm a procrastinator by nature and I hate fucking working out. It's a necessary evil, but if I can get by with missing one workout without feeling too terribly guilty, I'll do it.
Lucas comes out of his bedroom and heads into the kitchen. I can tell by the subtle waft of cologne that follows him as he walks by the couch where I'm lying that he's going out tonight. I assume he's seeing that woman he met from the museum. He seems pretty taken with her and that works fine by me. He spends a lot of nights at her apartment so I have this little house to myself much of time. This is good because I don't like to be around people that much.
The Cold Fury management hooked me and Lucas up when we were both traded to the team in case we wanted to potentially room together until we had time to settle into the area. This seemed like a good idea to me--Lucas as well--so we rented this little house for six months. It's been good so far and we keep out of each other's way. But I'd been straight up with him a few days ago when he was telling me about this woman he's seeing--I think Stephanie's her name. I'd told him I didn't make a good friend, which is the truth, and since then he's not shared anything personal with me.
It's been all, "I'm ordering a pizza...want in on it?"
Or, "Dude...it's your turn to take the garbage out. It's starting to smell."
Like I said...I'm a procrastinator.
I can hear Lucas rustling around in the refrigerator as I keep my eyes on the news. It's one of the things I'm a little obsessive about and if I'm around a television at six P.M., I've got the news on first to catch the local, then to catch the national. It's been a habit of mine since I was a little kid, and yes, I was a weird little kid, no thanks to my parents. It's why I got my ass kicked so much in grade school.
There's a knock at the door and I don't even flinch. I'm being lazy so I muster up the strength to roll my eyes to look at Lucas. Yeah, he's definitely got a date tonight. I can tell by the way he's dressed and his hair is styled. He stares back at me, holding a water bottle in his hand.
"Are you going to get the door?" he asks before taking a sip of the water.
"Why me?" I drawl.
"Um...because you're closer to it," he suggests, and that's true.
With a heavy sigh, I roll off the couch and take the three strides to reach the front door. Like I said...this house is tiny, tiny, tiny.
I swing the door open, not knowing if it's a neighbor, a Jehovah's Witness, or perhaps even a crazed fan. Don't give a fuck either...whichever it is, they're not getting my time.
My entire body seems to lock for a moment when I take in the beautiful woman standing on the doorstep. She has several pieces of luggage on the porch at her feet and I've got to admit, this is the craziest stalker incident I've ever heard of.
Too bad she's crazy because she's fucking hot as hell. Long brown hair shot through with lighter streaks of brown, and hazel eyes that sparkle with intense curiosity as she watches me. I'm wondering if her fan crush is on me or Lucas.
Then it hits me...brown hair, hazel eyes.
Fuck...this is Lucas's sister. I've seen the picture of his family on the entertainment unit that houses our living room TV and I recognize her.
Sweeping a hand from Lucas's direction toward Simone, I step back a bit so Lucas can see her and ask him, "Something you're not telling me?"
"That's my sister," he says with an eye roll as he walks toward us.
Yeah...figured that one out on my own. Just not sure why she's here at our house.
With luggage.
I turn to look back at his sister as Lucas walks our way, and I'm momentarily startled by the way she's checking me out. Eyes actually dragging down my body, and back up again with pure appreciation. If I didn't have such a hard shell in place, I'd be a little offended that one of my teammate's family members would be so obvious, but truth be told...I just don't give a fuck.
"What are you doing here?" Lucas barks at the woman as he comes to the door. I know he told me her name before but fuck if I can remember it.
She doesn't even jolt at her brother's harsh tone but lazily slides her eyes to him. She gives him a bright smile and then pushes right past me to enter the house. "I'm staying."
As she moves by me, she pats me on the arm and says in a silky, purring voice. "Can you bring those in for me?"
Her touch is light, her scent is sweet, and I have no reaction one way or the other. Because I don't let myself react to the opposite sex like that.
Ever.
"You're not staying, Simone," Lucas says with frustration. "You said you were going back to school."
So her name's Simone?
I suppose the name fits her. Goes well with her light French Canadian accent.
I turn to watch the siblings square off, still holding the door open in case Lucas throws her out.
"Changed my mind," she says firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. Staking her position. "And I can't stay long term at Max's because I'm taking up one of the boy's rooms and he needs it back. I like this area, I love my brothers, so I'm staying."
Lucas straightens up, squares his shoulders and says back just as firmly. "Not here you're not."
Rather than engage in a pissing contest with her brother, Simone turns to me and actually bats her eyelashes. I can't help but notice how long and dark they are, framing eyes that seem to heat up when she looks at me.
"You don't mind, do you, big guy?" she asks me, her accent getting heavier, maybe a little silkier as she tries to flirt with me.
It does nothing for me frankly, but I also don't give a shit one way or the other.
I shrug. "I don't give a fuck but you're not getting my room."
"You're not getting mine either," Lucas says quickly.
"It's settled then," Simone says with a bright smile as she walks with swaying hips to the couch. She drops down on it and there goes my hope of watching the news. "I totally don't mind sleeping here."
I make a mental note to pull my TV out of storage. I hadn't bothered with it before but looks like I won't be enjoying the TV out here anymore.
Lucas merely gives a frustrated sigh of acceptance, his head lowering in defeat. I feel a little sorry for the dude, so I do him a solid and bring the luggage in off the porch.
"Be a sweetie," Simone actually purrs at me with another flutter of her eyelashes and a pursing of her lips, "and put those in Lucas's room so they won't be in the way."
I don't even spare her a glance but merely drop her bags just inside the front door, kicking it shut behind me. With a resigned sigh of my own, I figure I should just head to the gym for a workout. I push past Lucas to the small hallway that leads to the two bedrooms.
"I'm Simone by the way," his sister calls out to me. "Lucas's little sister."
I don't respond, and I know it's rude, but again...don't care. I step into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. If there was
a lock on it, I'd turn it. Not because I don't feel safe or secure, but I can tell Simone's a pushy sort of girl and I wouldn't put it past her to barge in.
Because the house is small, even with my door closed, I can hear Lucas say, "What the fuck are you doing, Simone? This is crazy even by your standards."
I can't help but smile at that. Apparently my original estimation that the woman on the porch was crazy holds true.
"He's kind of rude, don't you think?" she responds, talking about me.
This actually makes me smile. It's not the first time I've been called rude.
There's also been closed off.
Introverted.
Asshole.
Weird.
As I rifle through my drawers for a pair of workout shorts, I listen without shame to their conversation, just a little curious why his sister is here.
"Not as rude as you showing up on my porch with luggage saying you're staying here without asking," Lucas retorts and adds on, "and not as rude as you deciding not to go back to school after you agreed it was the best thing for you."
"You don't understand--"
"What I understand," he practically yells at her, "is that you are less than thirty days from graduating with a bachelor's degree from a fucking ivy league school and if you go back now, you will not fuck that up. It is absolutely ridiculous for you to think you can step away when you're this close."
Now that's interesting. I can't remember if Lucas ever told me about his sister, but she's apparently a smarty pants. Ivy league educated and all.
It was the only regret I had about entering the NHL at age 18. I had wanted to go to college. I'd had plans to major in psychology. But the opportunity to play professional hockey was too good to pass up, and I figured I could always go to college after I retired.
As I locate a pair of shorts, then search for a t-shirt, I can barely hear Simone say, "I'm not that close to graduating."
Whoa...now this is like soap-opera interesting. I snag a t-shirt and move closer to my closed bedroom door so I can listen in. I start to remove my flannel shirt and jeans as I continue to eavesdrop.
Simone continues in a tentative voice. "I actually never enrolled for this semester."
"What the everloving fuck?" Lucas barks at her so loud, I wince on her behalf. "How is that even possible?"