Double Bear Chase: Werebear BBW Menage Romance (Hockey Bear Season Book 3) Page 2

It wasn’t just the apartment that felt empty, though, it was her entire life. Frustrated by where her mind was heading, she went back to one of the suitcases and got out her favorite dress and her make-up bag.

  I can’t stay here and wallow, that’s no good.

  Switching up her sweat pants for a modest black dress and swiping on a coat of red lipstick, she was ready to go. Having seen a bar just around the corner when she had driven to the apartment complex, she figured being around people would be better than feeling sad here, all alone.

  She wasn’t looking for anything other than the company of other human beings, preferably ones that weren’t out to break down her literal front door.

  I should be keeping a low profile, she thought, biting her lip.

  Staying home seemed a lot safer, all of a sudden, but Hanna knew she couldn’t give in to that instinct of isolating herself. Vince had kept her in fear long enough. It was time to regain some of her freedom.

  Besides, how am I going to go to work every morning if I can’t even step outside for a quick drink?

  Resolving to have a good time and celebrate the fact she was no longer homeless, she twisted her hair up into a bun, put on a pair of heels and marched to her door. Only hesitating for a second, she stepped outside, purse slung over her shoulder.

  The night was surprisingly warm as she strolled along the cracked pavement, taking in the city that was now her home. After a couple of minutes, the bar’s large windows came into view, spilling light onto the sidewalk. Low music echoed out, with a sign that read Rico’s above the door.

  Pulling on the heavy door, Hanna stepped inside, making her way to the bar. A middle-aged man was drying glasses behind it, giving her a friendly smile. The nametag said his name was Tony, and he had dark hair and a pleasant face, with deep-set eyes and a strong nose.

  “Hey, there. What can I get you?” Tony asked.

  Hanna pulled out a stool and sat down, looking at her surroundings. There weren’t that many patrons sitting at the tables scattered about the room, decorated to be somewhere between an Irish pub and an upscale bar.

  Now that’s an odd mix, she thought, glimpsing at what looked like a large, empty space behind the row of tables closest to the entrance.

  “A glass of red, please,” she replied, smiling back at Tony.

  “Coming right up,” Tony said, already reaching for a wine glass. “You’re not one of the regulars. I’d remember you,” he added, sounding curious rather than flirty.

  Hanna found it to be a relief. She wasn’t looking for a fling, or a relationship, or anything remotely romantic, really. Sure, she felt a little lonely sometimes. And who didn’t want to have someone to trust and confide in, someone to cuddle up and tell about your day? But that wasn’t something she considered herself ready for right now.

  What seemed like a lifetime ago, she might have considered herself a romantic. The fact that she’d seen Love, Actually more times than she could count spoke to that. But now, that part of her seemed naïve at best.

  There were no guaranteed happy endings in life, and she couldn’t go through another bad finale. She just didn’t have it in her to be so thoroughly disappointed and hurt again as she’d been when things took a turn for the worse with Vince.

  And that’s putting it mildly, she grimaced to herself.

  She was pulled out of her reverie when a glass was placed in front of her, accompanied by the speakers tucked in the corners of the ceilings suddenly coming to life. Tony chuckled, catching on to her surprise.

  “I’m betting you didn’t know this place turns into a salsa club on Friday nights?” he asked.

  Hanna felt like she’d just tumbled through the rabbit hole. This was turning out to be one of the weirdest bars she had ever been to. It suddenly hit her the open space she’d glanced at before was a dance floor.

  “No, I definitely didn’t,” she replied, as more people started to pour through the doors.

  “Well, stick around. It’s a lot of fun,” Tony said before turning to his new clients lining up at the bar.

  This was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. The music was starting to become overbearing, and the buzz of excited voices a little too much. She had thought she’d just dip her toe into the waters of not being a shut-in, but this was more diving in head-first.

  Taking a big gulp of her wine, she looked around anxiously as the place filled up with bodies, many of them already letting loose on the dance floor. Having the coordination of a drunk baby deer when it came to dancing, she hopped off the stool after putting down enough cash to pay for her drink and to tip Tony, ready to make her escape.

  Wading through the mess of people, she passed by the dance floor, more than ready to get back to what was now her home.

  “Kelly!” a male voice called out from her side, but she paid it no mind.

  “Kelly, hey,” the voice repeated, sounding closer this time.

  Before Hanna could even react, someone grabbed her and pulled her onto the dance floor, whirling her around. Feeling dizzy and confused, she stumbled on her feet as she came face-to-face to the man who had his arm around her waist and was dipping her backward.

  Shocked, she could only stare at him, mesmerized by his clear blue eyes and remarkable cheekbones. With his square jaw, full lips and expensive-looking haircut, he looked like he’d escaped from the cover of Men’s Health.

  “Oops,” the man grinned down at her. “You’re not Kelly.”

  “I definitely am not,” she replied, still hanging in his arms, her hair almost touching the ground. “Could you pull me up now?” she asked, annoyed at some stranger having his hands on her.

  Yet her heart was beating faster and her breath came hard and fast, all of a sudden. The man looked dangerously delicious in the low light, his broad shoulders like a wall opposite her. She felt light as a feather as he effortlessly, even gracefully, pulled her back onto her feet.

  But his hands remained around her waist as he started to move to the beat, pulling her along with him.

  “Sorry about the mix-up,” he smiled, looking entirely unaffected by the glare Hanna was throwing her way.

  The nerve of some people, she huffed to herself, but for some reason, she was unable to voice that sentiment.

  Her body was already going along with the mystery man, her feet moving on their own as he swayed to the beat. All but pressed against his hard chest, Hanna felt warm, and her thoughts were in a tangled mess.

  “I’m Finn, by the way,” the man added, grabbing her hand and spinning her around.

  “Well, Finn,” Hanna said firmly, finding her voice again. “Could you please stop dancing with me?”

  “But you’re having such a good time,” Finn smiled, maneuvering them across the floor with ease.

  “I am not,” Hanna insisted, even as her voice came out a little higher than usual.

  Having a sexy man whisk her across the dance floor wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could have happened to her, but she had to put her foot down.

  “Look, I’m not Kelly, and I don’t like dancing. So if you don’t mind,” she trailed off, planting her feet so Finn had to come to a stop.

  “Leaving already? But I didn’t even get your name. Or your number,” Finn winked.

  Hanna only rolled her eyes at that, disentangling herself from the man. She hoped to god he wouldn’t notice the way she was blushing. It had been a while since someone had asked for her number, let alone someone as cute as he was.

  Sexy as he was though, Finn definitely struck her as the arrogant, playboy type, and there was no way she would ever get involved with someone like that.

  Turning to leave, she almost ran into another impossibly tall and remarkably muscular man. Cursing her clumsiness, she looked up at him to apologize, only to get caught in the exact same blue eyes she had been looking into a moment before.

  Did I actually fall asleep while unpacking my suitcases and this is some kind of a fever dream? she briefly wondered, caug
ht between Finn and this equally handsome stranger.

  “What have we got here?” the man said, looking her over.

  His heated gaze swept over Hanna, making her feel downright indecent in her perfectly reserved dress.

  “A woman who doesn’t like to dance,” Finn helpfully replied. “Or that’s what she tried to convince me of.”

  “What a shame. I’d love to have my hands on that body,” the stranger said with a devilish smirk, sending a heatwave down Hanna’s spine.

  It felt like she was being eaten alive by the two men’s eyes. And worst of all, she could very easily picture herself in this guy’s arms. But that didn’t mean she was going to let him talk to her like she was a piece of meat.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to handle yourself,” she shot back, throwing him a withering glare.

  “Ouch,” Finn laughed, but his friend just smiled.

  The stranger leaned forward, his eyes glimmering, and Hanna couldn’t help but be affected by the confidence and pure primal sexuality rolling off him.

  “I know you’ll be thinking of me later on,” he said, giving her a knowing smile. “That’ll keep me warm at night.”

  “Okay, that’s quite enough,” Hanna replied, trying to make her voice sound even and failing pretty miserably. “You two have a great night and try not to fall over from the sheer weight of your massive, overinflated egos,” she grumbled before brushing past the stranger in a huff and leaving Finn laughing behind her back.

  “See you next Friday?” Finn called out as Hanna marched toward the exit, ignoring the man.

  I definitely won’t be coming back to Rico’s, she resolved, pulling the door closed after her. Definitely not, she repeated to herself, trying to sound more convincing.

  Three

  Foster

  Foster sat in Coach Dunn’s office, with Finn in the chair next to his. They didn’t have to say anything to each other to know they were in deep shit. And Finn seemed to be avoiding his gaze anyway, so there was that.

  The shelf behind the coach’s desk was littered with all sorts of trophies and ribbons. Some from his days as a player, some from his days as a coach. One thing was for sure, Dunn was an impressive man. He was also more than a little intimidating, not to mention a mentor to both Foster and Finn.

  The thought of disappointing the man left a bitter taste in Foster’s mouth, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Except repent and hope Dunn didn’t make him wash the whole team’s equipment again.

  Now that’s a memory I’d like to erase, he thought to himself, his face scrunching up.

  They had been waiting in the coach’s office for about five minutes when the man himself stormed inside, looking like he was about to blow a gasket. Shorter than most shifters, and somewhere in his early fifties, Dunn was still in impressive shape. Lean, with a muscular build and sharp, dark eyes, he could put the fear of God in any man on the team with just a look.

  Wearing his Sioux Falls Savages cap like he always did, Dunn circled around his desk and sat down opposite the brothers. Tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk, he looked deceptively calm for a moment.

  “You’ll be happy to know no one in the crowd was seriously injured. A couple of superficial cuts, a bruise or two from when the first row scrambled backward and onto the people behind them. But nothing severe,” Dunn said evenly.

  “That’s good,” Finn replied, before Foster could even react.

  His elbow to Finn’s ribs came a moment too late. Dunn was already back on his feet, palms pressed against his desk.

  “Did I say you could open your mouth?” he yelled.

  Knowing better than to respond to that, Foster and Finn continued to sit in silence, waiting for their lecture to start in full. They’d heard many during these last months. It wasn’t that Foster or Finn didn’t respect their coach or didn’t think what he said held value. They just couldn’t seem to help themselves lately. Trouble always found them.

  Dunn sat back down, pulling the cap down lower on his head.

  “You realize things can’t go on like this. You keep this up, no fan is going to step foot into the stadium with you two causing a ruckus every single time. This is a PR nightmare, and don’t think the higher-ups haven’t already called me,” he warned.

  That got Foster anxious. He knew the coach, and what his punishments were, but when the suits got involved… There was no telling what the consequences were going to be then. Yet he knew better than to make the same mistake Finn did, so he stayed silent, waiting for Dunn to finish.

  “Truthfully… I’m worried about you,” Dunn sighed, after a moment of thought. “This isn’t like you. If there’s something you want to talk about…”

  “Coach,” Foster finally spoke up, unable to stay silent anymore. “I get that we messed up. We’ll do whatever it takes to make it right, but we don’t need to talk about our feelings, here.”

  “I’m with him,” Finn said.

  “Shocker,” Dunn commented with a huff. “But I’m afraid that’s not going to cut it anymore. You’re a threat to everyone around you while you’re acting like this. If you don’t want to talk to me or your friends, fine. That’s your decision. But you’re going to have to talk to someone.”

  “Now hold on,” Finn interjected, throwing Foster a nervous look. “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Yeah, what are you saying?” Foster asked, studying the coach.

  He looked slightly uncomfortable for a moment, before squaring his shoulders and staring the both of them down.

  “I’m saying it’s time you see a professional,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “A shrink?” Finn scoffed, leaning forward in his chair. “Coach…”

  Foster felt a strong sense of unease sweep over him. He didn’t want to talk. He hadn’t even really talked to Finn about it, nor had his brother been especially eager about bringing it up. They were both dealing with it on their own the best they could. The last thing they needed was some stranger prodding in their personal business, opening up wounds.

  All Foster wanted to do was train, skate, win, and not think about anything. To wear out his body so his mind would be quieter. Hockey was his therapy, and he didn’t need anything else.

  “Finn’s right, coach. That stuff is not for us. It was just a stupid fight. We’ll keep our heads together next time,” he said.

  “There isn’t going to be a next time unless you can prove you have your shit together. Management has decided, and I agree, that you’re off the ice until you complete an anger management program,” Dunn replied.

  Foster was momentarily stunned. This was blackmail, pure and simple, an impossible ultimatum. He didn’t even have an anger issue. Hockey was a contact sport. What did everyone expect? It wasn’t a goddamn tea party out there, they were all playing to win.

  “You can’t expect us to agree to this,” Finn grumbled, leaning back and running a hand over his dark brown hair.

  “You either do this or you’re off the team. It’s that simple,” Dunn shrugged. “And you’re suspended until your therapist decides you’re ready to come back. That’s the deal. You can take it or you can walk out that door and never come back.”

  The expression on Dunn’s face said the man wasn’t playing around.

  Foster could hardly believe it. Coach, the man they trusted, the man they looked up to… How could he do this to them? Foster had half a mind to tell him to go to hell, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

  The mere thought of being off the team, off the ice, sent him reeling. What the hell would he do if he lost that outlet?

  He lived for this, the thrill of being on the ice, of working together with his team, of pushing himself to his limits. What else could he do but swallow his pride and do whatever it took to get back to doing what he loved most?

  Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  Four

  Hanna

  Hanna conjured up a neutral expression even as the man opposite
her looked about ready to start throwing things. The other people, two men and a woman, sitting in a half-circle around her, looked more bored than anything, probably waiting for their turn to speak.

  This outburst they were witnessing was nothing new to them. They’d had one or two themselves, after all, or they wouldn’t be here. On her part, Hanna found her mind drifting toward the two men she’d met at Rico’s, and how insufferable they’d been.

  And hot, her thoughts added before she could help herself.

  Right now, though, she didn’t have time for distractions, no matter how sexy those distractions might be.

  Jake was winding himself up, ranting and raving. Hanna knew better than to interrupt while he was in the middle of his speech, or suggest he calm down. That would only make things worse. Instead, she waited for him to catch his breath before speaking up.

  “I see you’re upset, and that’s alright. You have a right to feel whatever you’re feeling, but remember what we talked about?” she gently prodded, her hands on her lap, fingers around the soft leather of the date planner she always kept close by.

  The folding chair she was sitting on was slightly uncomfortable and the fluorescent lights in the small room they were in a bit too bright for her liking, but it had been the only space available in this timeslot.

  Crossing his arms in front of him, Jake seemed to genuinely think back and recall the advice Hanna had given him the last time they had seen each other in a room similar to this, but down the hall from where they were now.

  “I know why I’m angry,” Jake said, echoing the question she had asked him at last week’s session. “That snot-nosed kid has worked at the company less than a year, and he gets a promotion instead of me? How is that not supposed to make me angry? I think that’s a pretty good reason,” Jake argued, the plaid shirt he was wearing hanging off his tall, skinny frame.

  There were deep lines around his eyes, probably from years of squinting and glowering. His thin lips were in a harsh line, but at least he was somewhat engaging with her now, instead of talking himself into a frenzy. Jake looked years older than his age of forty-three, and there were a few gray strands in his sandy hair.