Another Goal, page 1
Another Goal
WILDCATTERS HOCKEY BOOK
BOOK FOUR
ALEXA PADGETT
SIDECAR PRESS, INC.
Copyright © 2024 by Alexa Padgett
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Edited by Jessica Royer Oaken
Proofread by Charity Chimni
Cover design by Chris Philpot
For Lorissa. You have a truly unmatched generous spirit. I’ve enjoyed the kids’ play dates, the wine nights, and all the years in between. Thank you for supporting my work (and me!).
You’re a great friend.
Contents
1. Millie
2. Millie
3. Luka
4. Luka
5. Millie
6. Millie
7. Luka
8. Millie
9. Luka
10. Luka
11. Luka
12. Luka
13. Luka
14. Luka
15. Luka
16. Millie
17. Luka
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Alexa Padgett
Chapter 1
Millie
A man—an enormous, strange man—settled into the chair across from me that Ida Jane had vacated at our table a few moments before.
I stared for a moment, and his smile widened. I didn’t trust smiling, towering strangers.
Well, for the record, I didn’t trust. My father had taught me that lesson, and refusing to believe in people—except my bestie, Ida Jane—made life a lot simpler and less painful.
My muscles tightened as my heartbeat slammed against my neck. I was stuck between my instinct to flee and the paralyzing fear that I wouldn’t make it out of the restaurant alive. I took a deep breath, preparing to bolt while I screamed. Creating a scene was better than ending up dead.
“I’m Luka Stol,” the blond stranger said with a quick flash of teeth. His smile was mesmerizing. “I’m your temporary date until your friend’s finished dealing with her pest problem. He’s a real douche canoe, huh?”
I blinked at him, my mouth hanging open and my tongue as heavy as a brick. I could not find the words to unstick my frozen vocal cords. The rest of me was equally as unmoving. This felt like some kind of prank.
He plowed on, seeming undeterred by my lack of response. “My teammates call me Stolly. Speaking of, Maxim and Cruz will make sure your friend is safe. She was holding her own, but that pissant got mouthy when he fell in the puddle. Served him right—talking to a woman like that.”
I melted a little with his words. I studied him, liking what I saw.
“Ah, dinner!” He smiled as the waiter arrived with plates. “Excellent. I’m starved.”
He grabbed Ida Jane’s cloth napkin, shook it out, and settled it over his legs. He picked up Ida Jane’s fork, speared a shrimp dripping with bechamel, and brought it to his mouth with a smug expression. I watched as he savored her dinner, mouth gaping, unsure what to do or say.
Okay, maybe he was pretty on the eyes, but he shouldn’t be eating Ida Jane’s birthday meal. That was…Trent-like, and I didn’t have anything to do with Trent-like men.
Never again.
“Ida—is that her name?—said you’re shy, but don’t tell me you’re starstruck, please.” He wiped his lips and peeked at me through his blond lashes even as he heaped up another bite. “I’m too hungry to deal with shrieking right now. It’ll give me a migraine, and that’ll kill my appetite. Creates a vicious cycle. You get it.”
That caused me to blink, and a tiny smile flitted over my now-closed mouth. I had two choices: freak out or go with it. He made me want to go with him—er, it. “Good to know how to bring you to your knees, Stolly.”
He smiled, lips closed until he finished the bite. Then he leaned closer, his light brown eyes warm with humor. I waited for the skyrocket of my pulse and the slickness of sweat to spread over my skin like a virus. I couldn’t help my reaction to men, not since Trent had tried to force—
I buried that thought in my mind by going through the molecular structure of jet fuel. There could be anywhere from eight to sixteen carbon atoms, and I listed the isotopes of two before my pulse regulated and refocused on the beautiful male in front of me. Affable was the best way to describe him.
“You could just ask me,” he said when he’d finished chewing. “I’d drop to my knees for a pretty girl like you.”
I laughed, unable to help myself. I was in my nerd glasses that did nothing to showcase my green-gray eyes. My dress was a size too big intentionally. I never dressed to impress anymore. I didn’t want male attention, but Luka Stol looked as if he saw me. Not the scared, scarred woman, but me: Millie Jones, the woman who craved adventure as much as she shied away from the terrible possibilities it would bring.
The sound of my amusement tinkled across the table, shivering over the silverware and warming my chest even more than Stolly’s smile. He was beautiful, he was presumptuous, and…maybe he was just what I needed.
Luka Stol made me feel sexier and more alive than any other person on the planet that I could recall. Definitely more than anyone in years.
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not shy,” I said, emboldened by my burgeoning fascination.
There were four types of molecular attraction, none of which had anything to do with human attraction. Sexual attraction was based on a different type of chemistry—one I’d never studied. I’d taken some psychology classes to better understand my response to my father and to losing my mother when I was young, but I’d mostly been much more interested in chemical compounds than people’s actions and reactions.
That was where I’d meet Ida Jane, though. In that regard, taking psychology courses was the best decision I’d ever made.
Stolly nodded. “Got it. Not shy. Just…quiet. Observant.”
I nodded back. As long as I was in this city, near my father and Trent—his protégé-from-hell—I would remain so.
Stolly lifted Ida Jane’s white wine. “To a lovely dinner companion and great food.” He sipped right from where her lipstick sat. He set the glass back on the table.
“Should you be drinking that during the season?” I asked. “I’m assuming you have nutritionists and—”
“So you do know who I am.” He preened. “We do, and I shouldn’t, no. But it pairs well with my dinner.” He winked. Winked. And I warmed further. “Eat up, pretty girl. We have a party to attend.”
Nerves rushed back. “We…we do?” No way. I couldn’t do that. I glanced around nervously. What if…
“Yep,” Luka said. “Wildcatters after-party. You’ll like it.”
“I…” I squeezed my fork so hard the edges indented the fleshy part of my thumb. I didn’t do parties. I didn’t spend time with strange men—hence the no parties. Just as I didn’t date. Or have fun. Or live an actual life.
Not anymore.
But he was tempting me with everything I wanted. Luka was gorgeous, he was fun, and I desired him. I shouldn’t. I definitely should not give in to the growing attraction I felt for him.
There would be consequences. There were always consequences.
Luka seemed to understand my warring, terrified mind better than I did because he smiled again, and this one was softly protective. “I’ll be by your side as long as you need, Millie. Don’t worry. We got this.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t want to go?”
Oh, I did. But I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Focus, Millie. I sucked in a breath and began to list chemical compounds, my go-to stress-reliever.
Carbon-14 had eight neutrons but just six protons, making it a useful isotope for medical tech and nanobiology. I blew out a slow breath.
Luka waited, his thumb rubbing a gentle rhythm on the back of my hand. “What do you want?” he asked.
You. To be normal. So damn many things. I smiled. “Let’s go to your party, hockey man.”
I blinked away that memory of our first meeting as I met Dr. Perera’s bored expression.
“Say that again,” I said. Oh, I’d heard him. I just didn’t want to believe him, to have the words be real.
Dr. Perera, the man who’d had the misfortune of being on shift in the hospital when I walked in, sat on his little rolling doctor chair. He waited as I gawped. No doubt I looked like a herring struggling to breathe, the opposite of sexy—not that I wanted to be sexy for Dr. Perera. Or anyone.
Just Luka.
He’d helped me move past one of the worst experiences of my life, and I’d always be grateful to him for that.
“You’re pregnant,” he repeated.
Cold reality slammed into me as I assimilated Dr. Perera’s words. I was halfway around the world, working my dream job, just as I’d planned. I’d assumed that after I ghosted him, Luka must have moved on with many different female companions. I knew of his reputation before he sat down at my table. He made every woman he spent time with feel sexy and special. But I wasn’t either of those. I couldn’t be.
I’m Millicent Anne Jones. Seriously, even my name was boring.
We’d talked after our initial meeting at dinner, and I’d fallen further under his spell. Over that next week, I’d given Luka not just a l
So stupid.
Still, I couldn’t regret the night I’d shared with him. I’d known I was leaving the next day, so I took what I wanted: a hot, young professional hockey player with soulful brown eyes and a smile that incinerated my panties. The memory of it had burned deep into my mind.
And apparently my body.
The garish lights above me burned my eyes while the antiseptic smell of the room dug into my nostrils and drove a spike into my mind. I hated being sick, and I hated hospitals. But mostly, I detested that I couldn’t stop thinking about Luka Stol.
I leaned over and puked in a plastic basin that smelled of bleach and looked like an anemic liver. The container was unpleasant but getting sick on myself, the bed, or the floor held even less appeal.
I knew this from experience. I’d spent the last thirty-six hours heaving my guts out pretty much nonstop. This wasn’t the first time I’d vomited since I’d entered this hospital, but it was the first time I’d done so knowing the reason I couldn’t keep anything down.
I wiped a shaky hand across my mouth and looked up at Dr. Perera. He never batted an eye. I decided it would take a nuclear attack to get this guy to show some emotion.
“You should let the father of the child know so you can make some decisions,” he said calmly. “Is he here? I can call him in.”
I shook my head. No, that was the last thing I wanted to do. That’s not true. If I was being honest—and I really didn’t want to be—I’d wanted Luka from the moment he’d smiled and those dimples flashed. “I’m Luka Stol, and I’m your temporary date until your friend’s finished dealing with her pest problem.”
He’d winked—winking was usually creepy, something I ignored—but he’d been so disarming. He’d lifted Ida Jane’s wine glass, sniffed, and taken a sip.
We’d talked as we ate… Well, mainly he ate, and I’d picked at the meal I’d been so excited to enjoy before Ida Jane dashed from her chair and outside to meet with her ex, Dillon. He was a terrible person on his best day—not that Ida Jane had realized that then. I’d had hope for her. I’d needed to have hope because I was leaving her on her own.
Luka Stol had peered at me, those damn adorable dimples flashing. “Tell me your name and what you do. Why are two such pretty ladies dining here tonight?”
Between bites of our shared meal—and the surreal experience of having a professional hockey player sit down at my table—I’d told him my name, occupation, that it was Ida Jane’s birthday.
He’d eaten with precision, enjoying both Ida Jane’s meal choice and her wine. Halfway through, when I fell silent and focused on my dinner, he’d leaned back in his chair.
“Well, Millie, I know you’re a good friend, smart, with a hard-ass-sounding job. Now, tell me the secret of how you get that definition in your arms. I think I need your exercise regimen,” he’d joked.
I’d blinked at him, unsure what to say and still worrying over my decision to allow him to sit with me. Why had I believed him when he said Ida Jane was still outside? What if he planned to abduct us both? What if…
“While you’re at it, you can tell me about the nicks on your fingers. Did you teach your friend to pound face?”
“I…”
He’d leaned forward, his warm palm enveloping my hand. “Settle, sweet Millie. You did a good job. Your friend is beating the douche’s ass, and Maxim is with her. You know Maxim Dolov?”
I’d offered a quick nod. Luka’s thumb had rubbed my sensitized skin, shooting electricity up my arm—and down to my core. I’d pressed my thighs together, trying to ease the building ache. He was attractive, attentive, sweet.
“Preg…pregnant?” I wheezed. I had missed my last period…and the one before that. I’d been so busy with my move—setting up my condo and office, learning the area, helping Maxim win over Ida Jane, and obsessing over Luka—that I hadn’t realized the significance.
Fuck. Me.
Luka had. A little too well. I was eleven weeks pregnant. I shivered as I relived the feel of Luka’s warm fingers trailing along my sides and the sensation of his lips as he’d worked his way from my jaw down my throat to my breasts. My belly warmed.
“That is what I said,” Dr. Perera confirmed.
Splash of cold water on that brief fantasy. Focus, Millie. Your world is spinning out of control. “You’re sure?” I asked.
Dr. Perera sighed, probably disappointed in the thickness of my skull, which wasn’t usually so thick. Everyone in my department at work considered me a genius. But who cared about that right now? I knew nothing about babies.
Hell, I could barely care for myself.
“You’re sure?” I asked again, voice rising, muscles tensing.
“Well, hCG levels don’t lie. I’ll get you something for the nausea, which seems extreme. And I’d suggest you get in touch with friends or your former lover—someone to support you. While pregnancy symptoms often calm after twelve weeks, your hyperemesis is severe and may require further intervention.”
“What does that mean?” I crumpled the thin gown that covered my thighs. I tried to think, but I couldn’t. I was pregnant. Luka Stol got me pregnant.
I mean, he was potent. Like…really.
Luka’s eyes had made my heart pitter from that first moment, but by the time I saw him again at his friend’s birthday party the next weekend, he’d made me burn. His smile when he saw me that night had made my tummy clench. His fingertips on my skin, when they’d skimmed down my jaw, throat, chest, caused me to cream my panties. But his kisses…
I was pretty sure the brush of lip, the swirl of tongue, his soft moan as he’d angled his head and deepened the connection between us had caused my ovaries to shove out eggs. He’d worshipped me—palming my breasts, his breath on my nipples making them harder than ever, the warmth of his tongue before they’d chilled from the cool air. He’d nuzzled against my skin, seeming to want to be closer.
And that first thick, deep slide inside my body… I swallowed hard, throat dry, holding back a moan at the memory of how good he’d felt in me, over me, staring into my eyes as if I was the only person to matter.
Yeah, no wonder I was pregnant. If I wasn’t already, I would be now just from thinking about him.
I nibbled on my lip. But it wasn’t just the passionate sex—where he’d shown his stamina as a professional athlete, I might add. And I’d gotten to cup that strong ass as he pumped into my body. Is it hot in here? No, I was hot because the mere thought of Luka Stol caused me to smolder.
Afterward, when we were both limp and sated, he’d cradled me. His big, hard body had surrounded me, his thick thigh across both of mine. I’d felt cherished. I hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d whispered in my ear, asking me to stay.
Already, he’d made too much of an impression.
I’d told him I couldn’t, that I was leaving on a business trip. That was true, but I’d been vague, unwilling to tell him my “trip” would be for years. I hadn’t wanted to let our connection go.
I’d met his gaze, searching for anything nefarious in his eyes. He’d let me look. He’d waited, patient, as he continued to caress my skin. I’d let myself fall into the feeling. With a deep, soft breath, I’d admitted Luka Stol infatuated me.
Shit. Shit! This was because I’d let myself feel something, want something. I’d wanted Luka with an all-consuming need, and now, two months later, I was having his baby. Luka Stol, the up-and-coming offensive star of the Houston Wildcatters. I was screwed. My throat clamped as emotions swirled through me. Fear drove the rest, as it often did.
Fear of the unknown, fear of being hurt, fear of being responsible for a tiny, defenseless baby. I’d moved to a foreign country. I was much too far from my friends. Ida Jane… What was Ida Jane going to say? I couldn’t tell her. I had to tell her…
Once I told her, her husband, D-man Maxim Dolov, would know, and that meant I had to tell Luka before Maxim did.
