The Workaholic and the Realist (New Hampshire Bears #2) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Keaton

I stared at my computer screen longer than I should have. I was stumped on what the professor wanted. How hard was it to ask a simple question? I gave up and figured the best thing to do was get a beer and then Netflix for an hour.

What I really should have done was go to the gym, but…nah. I flopped on my couch and found where I left off on
Criminal Minds
. If my brain worked like Dr. Spencer Reid, I wouldn’t be having issues with this business class.

Why did I want to get a Master’s degree at the same time as writing a book and playing hockey? Because I was a workaholic. I’ve been this way my entire life. I may take a break from time-to-time, or sleep, but other than that I’m either studying, working on my book, reading, working, playing hockey, or fucking.

Hey, everyone needed a stress relief. Mine happened to be sex. Except for the past month, I’ve not had any sex. I’ve masturbated, but nothing else. I think it was some sort of record for me, going this long.

I tried to chill out and focus on Netflix, but the stupid question bounced around my head. I got up off my couch and went back to my computer. It finally hit me what the professor wanted and I now knew what to research for the answer.

As I went through various sites and searched the evidence I needed, my phone dings with a text message.

Bar?

Remington Rosin had been my friend since the day I’d been traded to the Bears. He was a great guy and even better wingman. He had the tall, dark, handsome image down, but was really a teddy bear. Sad because he could totally play the image up if he wanted to.

Nope.

Got a girl already?

Yep.
I lied, but I surely couldn’t tell him I was home studying. No one knew I was in graduate school. Well, they’re only online classes, but it still counted. I had dreams and goals and with my current bank account I could make it all happen. I didn’t want to tell anyone; it was private.

I went back to working on my paper and submitted it to the professor when I finished. I rewarded myself with a book.
A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare: 1599 by James Shapiro.
It was a great book and a look into the good ol’ year of 1599. It was the year William wrote four of his famous plays. Dude must have gone through barrels of ink.

When I realized it was four in the morning and I had to be at practice in five hours, I should probably get some rest. I marked my place in the book and crawled into bed, quickly finding sleep.

I pushed on Kyson’s back, nudging him forward. “I’m going to spear you, Wick.” I teased him.

“Knock it off jackass,” he growled back at me.

Remington joined in and started working Wick’s nerves in trying to steal the pick away. If I could ever say one thing about Kyson Wick’s hockey abilities, it was that you couldn’t get a puck away from him without a fight. This was why he was the leader in assists. He and Remington have been named the
dynamic duo
, partly because Remington is the lead scorer in the PHL. Those guys are the best in the league, and I strive to be as good as them.

My position with the Bears: defense. Even though our goalie is crappy, and I am hoping his ass will be traded soon, it’s my job to protect him and block the shots. I did okay. I was currently sitting pretty in the top ten of blocked shots and the top five in ice time. I never wanted to leave it, but Coach Long was constantly yelling at me to get off the ice.

Finally, Remington and I left Kyson alone and started shooting some pucks around. I enjoy a laid back practice like this. I understood it couldn’t happen every day, but Coach was generally in a foul mood a lot of times. I sometimes wondered if he was getting enough sex at home, but it’s none of my concern.

Our practice time was over, and I quickly showered and headed out. I told Remington I couldn’t have lunch with him because I had to run errands before the game tonight. He believed me, and I rushed over to Harlow’s house instead.

Harlow.

How did I explain her?

First, she was hot as hell. She had long auburn hair and the sexiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I met her a few months back when Meadow introduced us at the
Central Ale House
. She spoke her mind and was a no-holds-bar kind of girl. On top of that, she was older, and I knew she had plenty of experience just by the way she talked and acted. By no means was Harlow a slut; she seemed too classy to spread her legs at every passing dick. But she knew what she wanted.

If I was ever looking to settle down, she would be perfect for me.

I knocked on her door, and she quickly answered it.

“Hello, honey-bunny.” I realized early on she hated the term of endearment, so I used it often.

“Hello, puppy.” Since the day we met, she’s called me a ‘pup’ or ‘puppy’. I probably hated it as much as she hated hers, but it began to grow on me.

“I assumed you called this meeting for sex.” I walked into her home.

“Not even close, pup.” She breezed past me without even a second glance. “We need to go over some notes of the story.”

“And then sex?” I smirked.

Harlow ignored me, and I followed her upstairs to her office. The first time I was in her house I’d been surprised she would have such a large home. Every room I’d seen had minimal furniture, and I got the idea she wasn’t very materialistic.

Even when I walked into her office today, she had a desk, two chairs, one small file cabinet and a tiny plant in the window. I didn’t even think the plant was real. From the file cabinet she pulled out a folder and handed me my book.

“I went through the chapters you gave me. They were much better than before. I made additional notes on chapters fifteen through seventeen. You were asleep at the wheel for those. I need for them to flow better and double check your research on the policy of police warrants. I feel as if you’re missing a step.”

I thumbed through the pages and saw all the red marks. Normally, if this was a school paper, I’d be pissed at myself for doing such a shitty job, but these marks were special. They were going to help me make my story better; they didn’t belittle me.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“Have you figured out if you’re going to use a pen name or the famous Keaton Jaco name?”

I smirked. “I’m not sure yet. No one knows I’ve written a book except you and one other person.” I honestly didn’t mean to say the last part.

“Oh, so puppy’s girlfriend knows he writes mysteries?” Harlow grinned, rising from her desk. “Want something to drink before I throw you out?”

“Sure.” I followed her to the kitchen. “And I don’t have a girlfriend.” I glanced around and realized she had nothing on her countertops. There were no appliances, knives, or decorations; there was absolutely nothing. Even I have items on my counters and I rarely use my kitchen. “You know you’re the only girl I want in my life,” I teased.

Harlow placed a bottle of water in front of me as I took a seat at her small table. “Don’t try to boost your ego. I think it’s big enough already.”

“Would you like to see how big
it
is?” I took a small sip of water.

“No thanks. I’ll pass.”

“So, if you don’t want to talk about sex, then why did you ask me to have a drink?”

“I was trying to be polite, but if you’re going to talk about your dick, you can hit the door.”

“Oh honey-bunny.” I reached for her hand, patting it lovingly. “You know I want to talk about your pussy too.”

Harlow laughed. “Oh puppy.” She shook her head. “You think you’re so funny?”

“You know I am, but I really do have to go.” I had to get ready for the game, and I wanted to check my homework.

Harlow walked me to the door. “Send me everything once you get it updated.”

“Will do.” I kissed her cheek and left her house.

There was just something about her.

My legs were numb and burning at the same time, but I wasn’t going to let this Alabama Blacksmith player get a shot off. We were ahead by two, and I was going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.

He went to take the shot, and I positioned for the shot, tightening my body up, but I turned slightly. I shouldn’t have moved, because the puck caught me on my side, near my ribs and below my pads.

I grunted in pain and fell to my knees. I tried to catch my breath, but I only gasped a small amount of air. I rolled onto my back, but it didn’t help the pain. I finally heard the whistle blow and our team doctor, Damaris, came to my side asking me where the pain was.

“I think…I…cracked…rib…” I still couldn’t catch my breath.

“Let’s get you off the ice.” He tried to help stand me up, but I grunted in more pain. “Easy, Jaco. Come on.”

I finally stood up on my skates and heard the crowd clapping and the players slapping their sticks on the ice. I made my way through the tunnel and to our exam room. It wasn’t as sophisticated as a hospital, but still had a lot of the same equipment.

I was able to get out of my jersey and pads. There was still a lot of pain, but I was able to breathe a bit better. The doctor began to feel around my chest and side.

“I don’t think it’s broken, but let’s get an x-ray.” One of the assistants brought in the portable x-ray machine.

They snapped a few pics; I was uncomfortable laying on my back and had to sit up. I was pissed off, mostly at myself because I knew better than to turn that particular way and expose myself in such a manner.

“Not broken,” Damaris announced, coming back into the room. “But I’ll sit you out for a few games to rest.”

“What? A few? Fuck that. Wrap me up and send me back out there.”

He shook his head and held up two fingers. “You’re out for at least two games.” He walked out, and I knew I couldn’t argue with him.

I headed over to the locker room and changed. The game was almost over, and I figured I’d take a shower before everyone else came in.

Just as I put my suit on and was fixing my tie, the guys started coming back in. Of course, they were all checking up on me, but I just wanted to make sure we won.

Coach stepped up to me. “Go home and rest.” He dismissed me, and I figured I should go home, do some homework, and start on my revisions.

That was resting, right?

Chapter Three

Harlow

I knocked on Keaton’s door. One side of my conscience told me what a fool I was for doing this. The other side was telling me I was wearing out my vibrator. Meadow was the one who told me he’d been hurt last night’s game. My father was a huge hockey fan, and I knew the dangers, but I didn’t get into it very much.

Keaton was shocked to see me when he opened the door. “Harlow?”

“Sorry to come over unannounced, but I heard you were hurt, and I was checking up on you. I didn’t know if I needed to take the puppy for a walk.”

“Um…um…um…” I never saw him lost for words before.

“Keaton Michael, why are you standing with the door open?”

I heard a woman’s voice from behind him. He turned, opening the door more. Before me was almost the exact same women from the
Grandma’s Cookies
package. She was short, maybe 5’1”, if that, with snow white hair. She even wore an apron.

“Well, let her in. it’s too cold to be standing outside.” She waved me in and since I was so damn nosy, I had to come in to get the entire story of this sweet woman. “Hello, dear. I’m Thea Jaco, Keaton Michael’s grandmother.”

“I’m Harlow Goldsmith.” I didn’t have a title to add.

“Aren’t you sweet? Keaton Michael, shut the door.” Her tone a little firmer, and he quickly did as she’d told him. “Have a seat dear. Sorry the apartment hasn’t been kept for company, but he’s been busy.” She directed me over to the long, black couch where I noticed the coffee table had several books spread out.

Textbooks? Economics in the twenty-first century? Classic Novels and Government?

I glanced up at Keaton; he looked everywhere else but at me, and his cheeks were slightly pink.

“Between hockey, school, and writing his book he hardly has time to sleep let alone clean.” She pushed a set of the well-read novels over to the other side of the couch to sit by me.

“School?” I looked between them.

“Yes, Keaton Michael is working on his Master’s—”

“Grams, we don’t need to talk about it.” He cut her off.

“Yes, we do.” I smiled. “Please, go on.” I urged Thea as Keaton groaned.

“It’s in Classic Literature and his undergrad degree was in Business.” Thea ignored Keaton’s protest and started right in.

“It’s a strange combination.” I turned fully to Keaton.

“It’s because he wants to open his own publishing company one day,” Thea answered for him.

“Grams,” he hissed at her.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” She narrowed her glare at him. I couldn’t help the smile on my face as he hung his head and mumbled an apology. “I figured you would have told your girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” I clarified as Keaton said, “She is not.”

“You don’t have to act like I’m that
bad
.” I heard his tone of disgust, and I didn’t like it.

“I don’t mean you are, honey-bunny.”

“Honey-Bunny? Really? You couldn’t come up with anything better?” Thea scrunched up her nose.

“Same thing I said.” I leaned over and whispered. Honey-Bunny seemed childish, and it made me as if it came from a character from
Sesame Street
or something.

“She calls me puppy,” he countered.

“Aw, how cute.” She covered her chest with her hand.

Keaton threw his hands up in the air. “Good grief.”

“Anyway, Harlow, how do you know my grandson?”

“I’m his editor.”

“Oh. Well, you should date him, then.” She beamed.

“Grams, stop it. Please.”

“What?” She tried to act innocent. “How are you liking the book, Harlow?” She smiled at me.

“I like it. Actually, I came over to make sure Keaton was okay.”

“Bruised ribs. Coach and Doc want me to sit out a couple games,” Keaton explained.

I nodded. “Okay then I’m good to go.” I stood up, but Thea grabbed my hand.

“Oh, I didn’t offer anything to drink.” She jumped up and rushed off to, what I guess was, the kitchen.

“You can leave. I’ll make an excuse for you,” Keaton smirked.

“I really did want to check on you,” I told him sincerely.

“I do appreciate it. Thank you, but it’s nothing serious.” He shrugged it off.

“Well, tell Thea thank you for me.” I patted his shoulder and headed for the door.

“Harlow, are you leaving dear?” Thea coming back into the living room.

“Yes, I have work to do.” I gave her a sad smile. “I’ll take a rain check.” I hoped it would appease her. She seemed like a nice woman, but I had a tiny feeling she was already making wedding plans in her head.

“All right. I’ll hold you to it.” She gave me a nod and then left the room again.

“Bye, Harlow.” Keaton held open the door.

“Bye, puppy.

When I left Keaton’s place, I went the one place I loved more than my house: the library. I’ve dubbed myself the world’s biggest book-nerd since the day I picked up
Sweet Valley High
by Francine Pascal. It was intended for a teenage audience but I was eight when I obtained my first copy. I’d always read at a higher reading level, so it wasn’t above my head. Then I moved on to the
Babysitters Club
, Judy Blume, and so many more others. My parents never discouraged me from reading, no matter what book I brought home from the library.

I found an empty table and opened my laptop. When Keaton first asked me to edit his book, I had to Google him. It really didn’t bring up anything except him being an extremely talented hockey player. Now, I was going to go further in depth this time.

Keaton Michael Jaco.

Of course, all the pro hockey related topics were first. Once I weeded through those, I found a few of when he was playing in the minors. They mostly talked about his personal life.

The puppy was a player. This wasn’t a shock to me. Keaton didn’t seem like a settle-down type.

Then again, maybe Goggle didn’t know that about him. I continued searching, but I found nothing on him attending colleges or his goal of being a publisher. I thought those were great goals, even though they shocked me. He was a great author, and I could see him having some great success, but his love seemed to be hockey. How does a hockey superstar become an author and want to be a publisher?

I wondered what his story was and if Meadow knew any more of it.

I called Meadow and asked her to meet me at The Latte Bean. She didn’t ask me what it was about, she knew it had to be something about work or book related.

“I’m here.” Of course, I had to rush in. I couldn’t do a regular nine-to-five job anymore because I’d always be late and I hated mornings.

“I already got your drink.” Meadow pushed over an expresso.

“You’re the best.” I blew her a kiss.

“Why am I here instead of at home writing while Kyson is on the road?”

“Whatever we talk about stays between us. I don’t want this getting back to Kyson because I’m pretty sure none of the Bears know this information.”

Meadow leaned forward with wide eyes. I loved she was as nosy as me. “What’s going on?”

I told her everything from when I went over to Keaton’s apartment. I mentioned the schooling, the book—even though she knew about that, and his grandmother. Of course, since I was talking to Meadow, I told her about me going to the library and stalking him all over the internet.

“Tell me everything you know about Keaton.”

“I don’t know a ton. I knew about his grandmother. I met her at the Christmas party. She’s a doll and everyone loves her and calls her Grams.”

“Did his parents die?” It baffled me why they wouldn’t have been at the party too.

“I’m not sure. Kyson told me once they pretty much dumped Keaton on Grams’ doorstep when he was a baby. Grams raised him.”

“Really? Why?”

Meadow shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Then what’s this whole school thing? And being a publisher? He’s one of the top hockey players in the league.”

“True, but all hockey players have different adventures and hobbies.”

“Sure, but aren’t they
hockey
related?” I countered. I could see Kyson and even Remington investing in some hockey equipment or a Zamboni fleet or even a machine that shot out pucks. However, I couldn’t see either of them writing a book or being a publisher. I was being a bitch thinking this way. They were smart guys and could figure it out, but it still shocked me.

“What else do you know about him? You’re practically dating him.” Meadow smiled.

“I am not.”

“Have you at least gotten down his pants?” she whispered.

“I’m his editor,” I firmly stated.

“But you want more.” Her face brightened.

“I’m nosy. Nothing more.” Sure, it was somewhat a lie. I did want to have sex with Keaton. I wasn’t blind to his young, hot body. My hormones weren’t dried up either. “Nothing more,” I repeated.