Wildcat Read online

  WILDCAT

  REBECCA JENSHAK

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Leo

  Chapter 2

  Scarlett

  Chapter 3

  Scarlett

  Chapter 4

  Leo

  Chapter 5

  Leo

  Chapter 6

  Scarlett

  Chapter 7

  Leo

  Chapter 8

  Scarlett

  Chapter 9

  Scarlett

  Chapter 10

  Leo

  Chapter 11

  Scarlett

  Chapter 12

  Leo

  Chapter 13

  Scarlett

  Chapter 14

  Leo

  Chapter 15

  Scarlett

  Chapter 16

  Leo

  Chapter 17

  Scarlett

  Chapter 18

  Leo

  Chapter 19

  Scarlett

  Chapter 20

  Scarlett

  Chapter 21

  Leo

  Chapter 22

  Scarlett

  Chapter 23

  Scarlett

  Chapter 24

  Leo

  Chapter 25

  Scarlett

  Chapter 26

  Leo

  Chapter 27

  Scarlett

  Chapter 28

  Leo

  Chapter 29

  Scarlett

  Chapter 30

  Leo

  Chapter 31

  Scarlett

  Chapter 32

  Scarlett

  Chapter 33

  Leo

  Chapter 34

  Scarlett

  Chapter 35

  Leo

  Chapter 36

  Scarlett

  Chapter 37

  Leo

  Chapter 38

  Scarlett

  Chapter 39

  Leo

  Chapter 40

  Scarlett

  Chapter 41

  Leo

  Chapter 42

  Scarlett

  Chapter 43

  Leo

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Also By Rebecca Jenshak

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2021 by Rebecca Jenshak

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  * * *

  Rebecca Jenshak

  www.rebeccajenshak.com

  Cover Design by Lori Jackson Designs

  Cover Photo by Michelle Lancaster

  Editing by Edits in Blue, Jessica Snyder Edits, and Rebecca Fairest Reviews

  * * *

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  THAT ONE IS A WILDCAT

  LEO

  I plug one ear with a finger and press my phone into the other as I walk away from my table toward a quieter corner in the bar.

  “Yo, College, where you at?” My buddy, Ash, asks on the other end of the line.

  “A bar near campus. I had a meeting with my advisor this afternoon, and a couple of buddies from my summer classes invited me out.”

  “I’m bored. What time will you be back?”

  “Probably not until late. It’s trivia night.”

  “Trivia night?” Ash snorts with laughter. “You don’t get enough of that in school?”

  I roll my eyes, letting him get his jabs in. I’m used to the guys poking fun at me for taking classes while playing in the NHL. It’s all in good fun. Mostly.

  “Wait.” His voice goes serious, and I can almost picture him sitting up straight and preparing to move from his favorite spot in the middle of the couch in his living room. “What’s the girl situation? Are hot girls still into trivia?”

  “Doesn’t matter. They’re all totally out of your league,” I say as I glance around the busy bar that’s popular with Whittaker students. My gaze lands, not for the first time, on the gorgeous bartender working tonight. She’s new, or at least I’ve never seen her before.

  This place is packed. A month into the new semester and it looks like all those good intentions to stay in and study during the weeknights have been tossed out the window. Man, some days I really miss college. Nights like this are few and far between for me during the season.

  For the next eight months, I will live and breathe hockey. With any free time, I’ll hang at Ash’s house, or he’ll be at mine. We’re neighbors and teammates. He has the better TV setup, complete with every gaming system you can imagine, but I have the better patio and pool.

  “Maybe I should drive down,” he says. I can hear him punching buttons on the controller and the video game in the background. “I’ve got you covered in Philosophy and History. I bet some other guys would be up for it, too.”

  “By the time you get here, trivia will be done.”

  “Then we can still have a beer and get you tucked in by midnight, Cinderella. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to keep me away. Afraid I’ll steal all the hot girls for myself?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I say dryly. “I’ll see you in the morning.” I hang up before he can goad me anymore or talk himself into coming for real. It isn’t that I don’t want to hang with him, but if the entire Minnesota Wildcats team shows up here, it’s going to be a shitshow.

  I can usually go undetected in a crowded bar, save the occasional hardcore fan. On the ice, I might want the attention, but not here. At the reminder, I pull my hat down a little lower over my eyes and keep my head down as I walk.

  Before I’ve made my way back to the table, Ash has sent me a series of texts with the middle finger emoji.

  Brad and Micah stop their conversation when I slide onto my chair.

  “What’d I miss?” I ask.

  Micah leans forward, elbows on the table and beer bottle dangling from one hand. “Settle a bet for us. Did you or did you not hook up with that reporter after you eye-fucked her boobs during this interview?”

  I groan, and their cackles fill my ears.

  Brad slides his phone onto the table, the infamous video playing. Last week, guys from teams all over the league attended a pre-season strength and training camp. It was a great week. Lots of media stopped by. It was interview after interview on how strong we were feeling going into the new season, our expectations for our teams, blah blah blah. Interviews are not my thing. Guys like Jack, our team captain, and even Ash are much better at handling the mundane and repetitive questions.

  I press pause on the video and slide it back to him. “I wasn’t staring at her boobs.”

  Or I hadn’t meant to be anyway. I was tired and hungry and concentrating on coming up with something more to say than “I’m feeling good” and “The team looks good,” which I’d already said a half-dozen times that day alone.

  “You are hardcore staring at her cleavage, Lohan.” Brad holds up his phone, the screen paused on a frame where my eyes are downcast, and indeed it very much looks like they’re focusing on her boobs. And they’re great boobs, so I get why people would think that, but I was so exhausted after a long ass day of workouts, she could have been topless, and I still might not have checked her out.

  The other problem? She’s very obviously checking me out. Her gaze dips several times in the video over my sweaty chest and abs, even drop
ping to my crotch at one point. Yeah, not my best interview.

  “We didn’t hook up.”

  “Dammit. Really?” Brad’s shoulders slump, and he finishes off his beer.

  “Sorry to disappoint.” I’m not breaking his heart and telling him I’d never hook up with someone in the media. I have a hard enough time with interviews. I don’t need to piss off any of the reporters.

  Micah sets his empty bottle on the table with a clang. A victorious smile pulls at his lips. “Make sure they grab one from the back of the cooler. I like it ice cold.”

  Brad starts to get to his feet to grab the drinks.

  “I’ve got this round,” I say, standing and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Shots? Pitcher?”

  Their eyes light up. I remember all too well what it was like to be a poor college kid. I won’t get to hang much since the season is about to kick off. All summer long, we drank here after our Wednesday night finance class. It was nice.

  Until next summer, I’m only taking one class a semester online. I wish I could do more, but I’ll finish my degree eventually.

  The bar in this place spans one long wall. It’s a narrow space with tables scattered in front of it. There’s no dart board or pool table and only one TV. It’s a total dive, but the proximity to campus keeps the cramped space in business. It has a friendly, fun vibe and is obviously the place to be tonight. It’s busier than I’ve ever seen.

  I choose the less crowded end of the bar closest to the new hottie bartender. I’ve come to know some of them. Mike, the owner, is the only one I recognize tonight. I don’t think Mike knows who I am, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would make a big deal out of it even if he did.

  They’re really slammed, so I settle in to wait.

  Hottie bartender moves slowly as she pours a line of tequila shots. She’s concentrating so hard, like it might be her first night. She’s holding up the line, but she’s damn fine to look at, so no one is complaining much.

  Her long brown hair is the color of aged whiskey. It’s pulled back in a ponytail that sways around slender shoulders. People are calling out to get her attention, but she continues taking her sweet-ass time like she isn’t bothered by the chaos around her.

  The guy buying the shots says something to her with a cocky tilt to his mouth before he hands over his credit card. He holds on when she tries to take it and leans in closer. She recoils, and I don’t have to be a genius to know he hit on her, or more likely, propositioned her. She snatches the card away and turns to run it. As if he didn’t get a clue by her avoidance, he bends over the bar and smacks her ass.

  Damn. Ballsy. I stand tall ready for… fuck, I don’t know. Mike catches the dirtbag in action, scowls, and comes over, presumably to defend his employee and kick the guy out, but before he can, she stomps back with a wild look in her eye, picks up one of the shots, and tosses it at him.

  I laugh. Mike, not so much. Most of the other patrons have a good chuckle and then slide down to the only remaining bartender. Not me. I’m enthralled.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” she says, hands balled up in fists, looking about as sorry as I feel that she doused that guy in alcohol.

  “That guy had it coming,” Mike grumbles. The two of them move my way to talk more privately. “But you can’t go around tossing top-shelf liquor in every douchebag’s face, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett. I try her name out in my head as I get a better look at her. Her tank top and denim shorts are the standard attire of half the girls here, but it shows off her lean body and slight curves. Her eyes are dark, but the way she smiles, a little mischievously and a whole lot sexy, makes them light up under the glow of the bar.

  “We need to start trivia. Why don’t you help Jade?”

  She pulls a bottle opener from her back pocket and hands it to him. “Sure.”

  “Good. I think that’ll be a better fit for you.”

  “Why? Because they’ll be too busy to grope me?” Her voice is raspy, annoyed, and sexy as hell.

  He smirks. “No, because the drinks on that side of the bar are already paid for. Toss away.”

  She brushes past me, and Mike meets my gaze and moves in position to help. “Wildcat.”

  “What’d you say?” In all the times I was here this summer, he never mentioned the team or let on that he knew I was an NHL player.

  “That one is a wildcat,” he says with a head tilt in the direction Scarlett went. “What can I get you, man?”

  I breathe a sigh of relief that I haven’t been outed. I can go most places with a minimal invasion of privacy, but here hanging with guys from class, I don’t want to be Leo Lohan, NHL player. I just want to hang with some friends and relax.

  And maybe get Scarlett’s number.

  2

  DELAYED JET LAG

  SCARLETT

  The tray of shots in my hands tips to the side and clatters to the floor between customers. I squeeze my eyes shut. Fuckity fuck. It’s safe to say that bartending is not my calling.

  Mike’s heavy sigh breaks through the noise of the bar as he comes around to help me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say for at least the tenth time tonight as I squat down to clean up another mess.

  “It’s okay.” He picks up the tray, and together we retrieve the tiny plastic cups (thank goodness they weren’t glass) and mop up the sticky liquid. “I got it. Why don’t you go ahead and close out? I think we can handle it from here.”

  The look on his face right now—the downturned, tight-lipped smile and apologetic eyes— I’ve seen it before. Just last week, my boss at the coffee shop gave me the same one when I confused the vanilla and hazelnut syrups for an entire shift. Oops. I was politely “let go” from that job, but I wasn’t too sad about it. I am not a morning person, and mixing me with other fellow caffeine addicts before the sun rises is a recipe for disaster.

  “I guess I’m not any better on the other side of the bar,” I joke.

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” he reassures me. “And, hey, thanks for your help getting the word out. I haven’t seen this place so busy in years.”

  “Welcome.” I untie the little black apron and set it on the tray with the empty cups. “You’ll let me know if you have any nights you need covered next week?”

  I like the energy of this place, so I’m hoping that despite my less than stellar bartending skills, he might call me to work again.

  “I might have some liquor promotions this week. They’re…” He bobs his head side to side. “More casual. I think you might do well with that. I’ll be in touch once I check the schedule.” Mike reaches over the tray to give my shoulder a squeeze and then gets back behind his bar. As bosses go, he seems like a good one.

  My best friend appears by my side. “What’s going on? Did he cut you for the night? Please say no. We’re still packed in here. Where are the shots for table Smart and Handsome?”

  I snort a laugh at her nickname for the table of trivia winners. “I dropped the tray.”

  She winces and gives me one of those maybe this isn’t your thing smiles that have become routine in my hot mess of a life.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I appreciate your putting in a good word for me, but I don’t think Mike will be calling me up to cover another night shift.”

  “Don’t even worry about it.” Jade sets her tray on the bar and expertly pours three shots. She’s been working here for two years and makes it look so easy. She blows out a breath that sends her bright red bangs out of her eyes. “This is really a problem of your own making. Your photos on the bar’s social media page brought all of these people here.”

  “It was nothing,” I say. Last week I came to the bar to hang out while Jade was working. I had my camera on me and took a few photos of her working trivia night. Mostly, I was just messing around, but Mike loved them, and when they posted all the images, I guess other people did too. It’s a cool bar, so I’m glad people are coming in. A total dive, but cool.

  “Whatever. It’s a cra
zy night to have your first shift. Besides, you were fine out on the floor.”

  “Yeah, as long as I didn’t have to carry anything but empties.” The number of beers and mixed drinks I spilled tonight or messed up somehow and had to re-pour is too many to count.

  “Are you staying and hanging out at least? I should be off in thirty. Usually, at midnight, it clears out a little.”

  “That depends.” I glance up at the TV at the exact moment my ex-boyfriend’s face pops on the screen. Ugh. As if it weren’t stressful enough starting a new job, I’ve had to work all night with excited chatter on the TV for this weekend's Russian Grand Prix and all the highlights from the qualifying sessions. Rhyse is the favorite, which is nothing new. He’s almost always the favorite. “Can we change the channel in here?”

  “Sorry. Mike has an ESPN-only rule. Sit at the far end and do not look at him.” Her gaze flicks to the screen. “He does not deserve it. Prick.”

  “I’m not sure I should even be in the same vicinity as anything glass or spillable. Every mistake is making me more jittery and klutzy. I might be sending off bad juju just by hanging around.”

  “You are stunning and majestic and not klutzy. Well, not usually. Maybe it’s delayed jet lag?”

  “More like a crushing blow to my self-esteem,” I mutter, and because I’m obviously a glutton for punishment, I steal another glance at the TV where Rhyse is smiling through an interview in his red racing suit.