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  Fisher saw red and he swung without even thinking about it. His fist connected with Simon’s nose with a satisfying crack and Simon went over backward, red blooming on his face.

  “Fisher!” Saint was there, putting himself between them just as Simon scrambled back up and lunged for him, expression contorted with fury.

  “You fucking coward,” Simon spat. Saint hung onto his arm as Carmine arrived and grabbed him from the other side. “Fucking coldcocking me? Try me on for size when I’m actually ready for it, you piece of shit!”

  “Any time!” Fisher shouted, fists still balled with fury.

  Felix scrambled over the boards and grabbed Fisher, pushing him back a few steps. “Did he hurt you?” he said urgently.

  “What?” Fisher looked at him. “No. No, I’m fine.”

  “Then why did you punch him?” Saint asked. He let go of Simon’s arm, watching him with a wary air until he seemed satisfied Simon wasn’t going to try to get to Fisher again.

  “He… said some stuff. Who the fuck is this guy?”

  Saint sighed. “This is Simon Fall, and as of this morning, the newest member of the Seabirds’ defensive core.”

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, my humble village came together in a big way to help me write this book, this time with a few new members. Thank you so much to my betas—Aaliya, Kat, Caitlin, Jodi, and Juliann. Your feedback helped bring Felix and Fisher to vibrant life, and kept me motivated to write more, if only to hear your outraged screams when I brought down the angst hammer. Here’s to the next book(s)! Thank you also to the lovely people who helped make sure Felix’s French was correct—Gabe, Florence, and the others who chose to remain nameless. Any mistakes are definitely mine alone. Thank you also to Sarah for her incredible cover art, as always, and help with formatting. I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the next book!

  About the Author

  Michaela Grey told stories to put herself to sleep since she was old enough to hold a conversation in her head. When she learned to write, she began putting those stories down on paper. She resides in the Texas Hill Country with her cats, and is perpetually on the hunt for peaceful writing time.

  When she’s not writing, she’s watching hockey or blogging about writing and men on knife shoes chasing a frozen Oreo around the ice while trying to keep her cat off the keyboard.

  Tumblr: greymichaela.tumblr.com

  Twitter: @GreyMichaela

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/GreyMichaela

  E-mail: [email protected]

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  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Goalie Tandem!

  Also by Michaela Grey

  Beloved Scars Series

  Broken Halo

  Broken Rules

  Broken Trust

  Broken Promises

  Hockey Romances

  Blindside Hit

  Odd-Man Rush

  Roughing

  Power Play

  Double Shifting

  Standalones

  Copper and Salt

  Goalie Tandem

  The first thing Theo thought when he met Niklas was holy shit he’s tall.

  The second thing he thought was so this is who’s taking my job. He’d opened the door to find his agent, Hannah, on the other side, with Niklas shifting his weight beside her, clearly brimming with nervous energy. He towered easily eight inches above Theo, lanky where Theo was compact, all elbows and knees like a gangly colt not quite sure what to do with himself.

  Hannah smiled at Theo. “Theo Wallin, meet Niklas Stromberg, your new backup. Niklas just landed, so he’s pretty jetlagged, but he wanted to meet you before I took him to the hotel.”

  Niklas beamed at him, brown hair flopping into bright blue eyes, and thrust one huge hand out. Theo accepted it.

  “It’s such an honor,” Niklas blurted. His eyes were huge and earnest. “I became a goalie because of you. I—”

  Hannah cleared her throat. “English,” she said gently, and Niklas’s face fell.

  “Sorry,” he said in heavily accented English. “Ah… nice to meet?”

  Theo hid the smile. “It’s nice to meet you too. Will you come in?” He stepped aside and Niklas ducked his head and sidled past, followed by Hannah. Theo led them into his kitchen and Niklas turned in a circle, eyes wide at the vaulted ceiling, the gleaming utensils on the magnetized racks above the counters, and the spotless marble counters. “Are you thirsty?” Theo asked.

  Niklas shot a glance at Hannah, who was tapping something on her phone. Theo could sympathize—Hannah was intimidating even to people who knew her. Niklas chewed his lip, darting a look at Theo and shifting his weight.

  “Water is okay?” he finally said.

  “Sure,” Theo said. He filled two glasses and put them on the counter as Hannah scowled at her phone and then swore.

  “Theo, I’m so sorry, I’ve got a fire to put out right now. Can you take Niklas to his hotel and get him settled in?”

  Theo swallowed the sigh and nodded. He followed her out the door to get Niklas’s gear and she was peeling out of his driveway before he had the strap over his shoulder. Niklas, right behind him, grabbed the bag, babbling apologies.

  “You not—is okay, I’m get—”

  “She’s gone, you can speak Swedish,” Theo said, and Niklas heaved a huge sigh of exaggerated relief.

  “I do know English,” he said, looking embarrassed. “But… she scares me, and it just… poof, you know?”

  Theo gestured for Niklas to follow him back inside. “She scares everyone. It’s why she’s so good at her job. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes,” Niklas said fervently, right on his heels.

  Theo showed him where to put his bag in the front hall and then offered him a stool at the kitchen counter. Niklas hooked his feet around the rungs and watched as Theo pulled a lasagna from the refrigerator.

  “It’s a little early for dinner, but something tells me you need the calories,” he said.

  Niklas made a small affirming noise and Theo glanced up. Niklas immediately looked away, his cheeks going pink.

  Amused, Theo went back to cutting a slab of lasagna and putting it on a plate. “How was your flight?” he asked as he put it in the microwave. When he looked up, Niklas jerked his eyes away again, cheeks turning even pinker.

  “It, uh, was fine,” he told the ceiling.

  Theo snorted and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator. He popped his and drained half the can without stopping for air. When he put it down, Niklas was staring at him again, his eyes huge.

  “Get it over with,” Theo told him. “You’ll feel better once it’s out.”

  “You’re the reason I’m here,” Niklas said immediately, clutching the edge of the counter. “I saw you play in the Olympics when I was eight—” Theo managed to hide the wince, but just barely. “—And ever since then I just knew. I knew I was going to be a goalie. I knew I was going to play in the NHL. Play with you.”

  “Technically, you can’t play with me, not if we’re both the same position,” Theo pointed out dryly, but Niklas didn’t seem to register the sarcasm.

  “I have posters of you on my walls,” he said, eyes earnest. “I’ve watched every single one of your games. At least all the ones I could find, and most of them more than once. You’re my favorite player in the whole world.”

  They stared at each other for a minute. Niklas didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, and Theo didn’t know what to say. The ding of the microwave startled them both, and Theo coughed as he turned to retrieve the food.

  Putting the plate in front of Niklas, he handed him a fork and then leaned back against the counter, arms folded.

  If you think I’m so great, why are you here to take my job? He didn’t say it, kept the words locked behind his teeth with an almighty effort. It wasn’t the fault of the young man currently digging into his pasta like h
e hadn’t eaten in a week. But Theo couldn’t help the jolt of resentment in his chest, like the kick of a mule when he looked at Niklas’s big hand folded carefully around the fork that looked so small in his grip.

  The team needed to get bigger. Faster. Stronger. They needed a brick wall in net to make up for their inconsistent defense, and that brick wall was eating Theo’s food, utterly oblivious to the conflict in Theo’s head.

  “You’re not eating?” he asked, looking up.

  Theo shook his head. “I’m not a growing boy.”

  Niklas visibly bristled. “I’m nearly twenty-three.”

  “And I’m thirty-four,” Theo said, hiding his smile. “You’re fully grown, sure, but you’re also still filling out. At least I hope you’re fully grown, how tall are you, anyway?”

  Niklas ducked his head, looking abashed. “Six five,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

  “For what, being tall?”

  Niklas glanced up. His blue eyes were unhappy. “You’re not.”

  Theo flinched. “Thank you?”

  “Sorry,” Niklas blurted. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that—” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I wanted… to be like you. And I’m….” He gestured vaguely at himself.

  The light dawned. “You can’t help your height,” Theo said gently. “And your height helps you. It means you can make the big saves with less effort, cover the net more efficiently. I have to work twice as hard to cover as much ground.”

  “You make it look easy,” Niklas said, glancing up again.

  “Well, I’ve been doing it for awhile. Besides, you can’t play like me. You have to play like you.”

  Niklas sighed and nodded.

  “So tell me about yourself,” Theo said.

  Niklas’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” he managed, “I’m not interesting.”

  Theo raised a brow. “Really? What do you like to do in your off-time? Surely you’ve got some hobbies?”

  “Not much,” he mumbled. “I play Call of Duty some, I guess.”

  “Anything else?”

  Niklas ducked his head, a blush dusting his cheekbones. “No,” he told the counter.

  Theo watched him narrowly for a minute. Whatever Niklas wasn’t telling him, it wasn’t his business.

  “As long as it’s not illegal, I don’t really give a shit,” Theo said, glancing at the clock above the stove. “We should probably get you to your hotel, you must be exhausted.”

  “I’m okay,” Niklas insisted, then immediately yawned.

  Theo laughed. “Okay, whatever you say.”

  Niklas slid off the stool and took his dishes to the sink, where he proceeded to wash them over Theo’s protests.

  “A good guest cleans up after himself,” he said, chin jutting out as he scrubbed, and Theo gave up, reluctantly charmed.

  He watched him for a minute as Niklas frowned at the dish in his hand. He didn’t want to like this young man, his replacement and physical reminder that Theo was getting closer to retirement every day, but he couldn’t really help it. Niklas was so earnest, so sincere, and it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

  Soft brown hair fell over his forehead, silky straight and cornsilk fine. His bright blue eyes were narrowed in concentration, tongue peeking from his mouth, and Theo had seen dimples when he smiled.

  Theo wondered idly about his sexuality. Did he like men or women? Both? Niklas didn’t read as gay, but he played hockey. He’d have learned to conceal it from an early age, act like the others, even flirt with women to keep his secret.

  Or maybe that was just Theo. Niklas had finished the dishes and was drying his hands, looking up at him expectantly.

  “Do you have a place to live yet?” Theo asked.

  Niklas shook his head. “Hannah said she would show me some places. Maybe tomorrow. I don’t want to buy anything yet, I’ll probably be sent down soon, you know? And what if I don’t fit? If I get traded, I don’t want to go through all that.”

  Theo regarded him. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

  Niklas blushed. “My mama taught me a lot.”

  “Not your father?”

  “Eh, he’s okay,” Niklas said dismissively. “Not really involved, you know? He was always busy with work.”

  “Do you want to stay here?” Theo asked, and then snapped his mouth shut, horrified with himself.

  Niklas’s eyes went huge. “You—really? Do you mean it? Really?”

  What was he going to say? Haha just kidding, let’s get you to the hotel? Theo was an introvert, not a monster.

  “Of course I mean it,” he said out loud, and the smile that spread over Niklas’s face was almost worth the regret in his gut. “Just for a while, yeah? Until you find a place of your own.”

  Niklas nodded fervently. “I’ll be so quiet,” he promised. “I’ll clean—every day. And do laundry. Dishes. Whatever you want.”

  “You’re a guest, not my maid,” Theo said, startled. “I mean it, don’t you dare try to clean my house because you feel grateful or something.”

  “I won’t,” Niklas said. “But if I see something that needs cleaning?”

  “Then I guess you can clean it,” Theo said, amused in spite of himself. “Come on, you can pick a room.”

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