Callous Player: A College Hockey Romance (Westfall U Series): Westfall U Read online

  CALLOUS PLAYER

  R.C. STEPHENS

  Copyright © 2022 by R.C. STEPHENS (IRENE COHEN)

  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.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Okay Creations

  Editor: Karen Hrdlicka of Barren Acres Editing

  CONTENTS

  Connect with R.C.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  38. The Gazette

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by R.C. Stephens

  CONNECT WITH R.C.

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  PROLOGUE

  Poppy

  “Is all this necessary?” I ask my roommate, Bonnie, while staring in the narrow mirror attached to the back of my closet door.

  “Yes,” she says, smoothing out the fresh curls she just blew out for me.

  “I don’t feel like myself,” I admit as I look in the mirror and see a girl with long auburn hair that’s smooth, and very unlike my wavy unruly hair, looking back at me. And my eyes. . . they really pop with all the mascara and eyeliner Bonnie applied. “I look like a rocker,” I snicker.

  “You look stunning,” she corrects, using a brush to apply some blush.

  I’ve been at Westfall U all of two weeks. That’s one week of student orientation and one week of classes. I met Bonnie about two weeks ago when I moved into this two-person dorm. I normally keep to myself and don’t make friends easily, but I promised myself before I started at Westfall that I’d make a solid effort to be more outgoing, to find some confidence, and make new friends. Not an easy feat for me but if I want to succeed at journalism, I need to crack myself out of my comfortable shell.

  “Remember why you signed up for the dating app.” She grins looking me up and down like she’s proud of herself. Truth is, she’s done a phenomenal job with my makeover. I feel beautiful not hiding behind my usual baggy clothes.

  “Maybe it isn’t so important to meet a guy anymore,” I say as an inkling of self-doubt rears its ugly head. I’m a work in progress and right now it feels like I’ve surpassed baby steps and am taking a try at a marathon with this sexy outfit and makeup. The dress I’m wearing is the color of merlot wine and it’s slinky and formfitting. Although I’m way out of my comfort zone, I like what I see in the mirror and that usually doesn’t happen to me.

  “Really?” She cocks her brow and juts out her hip. “So getting your first kiss has moved down on your bucket list?” Oh dear. I admitted to Bonnie that I’ve never kissed a boy. I kind of regretted it afterward but we were each in our beds late at night chatting, and we got to talking about life. Bonnie told me about her wanting to take a dream trip to Paris and I let it slip that I had never been kissed. Maybe it wasn’t really a slip though. I think I admitted it to Bonnie because she is so beautiful and confident, I was hoping for some guidance from her. She hasn’t disappointed because my admission was followed by a loud gasp from Bonnie, who immediately flung herself out of bed, sat upright, and grabbed her phone. “You have to sign up for a dating app,” she insisted punching away on her cell.

  So what did I do? I signed up for College Pro, a dating site used by Westfall students exclusively. She assured me there were lots of hot guys on College Pro and she wasn’t wrong.

  “It hasn’t moved down on my bucket list,” I admit. “In fact it’s all I can think about lately.” I mean this is college. Students are attending parties, meeting cute boys, having fun, having sex. . . of course I want those things too. “How many eighteen-year-olds have you met who haven’t been kissed?”

  “Just meet the guy at the bar. Have a drink. Flirt. Let’s hope he leans in for a kiss and if he doesn’t because he may be shy, then you take the reins and go in,” she says, repeating the plan for the fifth time tonight. She didn’t actually answer my question, which leads me to believe I am the only eighteen-year-old she knows who hasn’t been kissed yet. Just great.

  “You make it sound so easy,” I sigh. Because you are confident unlike me who spent most of high school in the shadows.

  “It is,” she nods.

  “I’m awkward. I don’t know how to flirt and what if the guy isn’t good-looking?” I say, spewing all of my fears.

  “Please.” She waves me off, pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She opens the College Pro app and pulls up the profile of the guy I’m meeting at a bar called Black Market off campus. “He’s super hot.” She lifts her phone for me to see his picture.

  The guy is hot. She isn’t wrong. His blue eyes are enticing. His chocolate brown hair looks a little wavy and his smile is warm. His dimples are definitely an added bonus and the beanie he’s wearing makes him look down-to-earth, but then again what do I know? I’ve had zero experience with guys.

  “Fine, you’re right.” I smooth the dress over my body that Bonnie lent me. Time to put your big girl panties on, Poppy. “I just feel like this whole look is a little much for a guy I’ve never met before.”

  “You look stunning. This Cage guy is going to totally be in to you,” she says. “He looks so hot and his name is totally sexy.”

  Right. I forgot his name is Cage. What kind of name is that anyway?

  She passes me her little black purse since I don’t own any going-out clothes. I slip my cell phone inside, along with a twenty and my bank card.

  “I should take a jacket. I can’t walk out of here like this,” I say, feeling self-conscious. This dress has spaghetti straps. I feel naked. I walk over to the closet and take my jean jacket. The fit is a little on the big side but that’s how I like to wear my clothes, loose and comfortable.

  “Uh uh.” She shakes her head. “You
aren’t draping that thing on you tonight.”

  I frown. She passes me her little black, vegan leather biker jacket.

  “Wear this,” she says and she removes my jean jacket off my shoulders. I help her by shrugging out of it as I repeat in my head, I can do this, over and over again.

  With the jacket on I feel a little less self-conscious and I take one last glance in the mirror. She’s right. It looks good. I just need to have the self-esteem to own it and walk out of here with my head held high. I don’t.

  “Thanks for everything,” I say to Bonnie and lean in and hug her, but she shakes her head again. What now?

  “You aren’t leaving here wearing those glasses,” she orders. My frames are the same ones I’ve had since freshman year of high school, even though the prescription has changed. “You said you have contacts.”

  “Did I say that?” I ask playfully.

  She nods. “Put on the contacts, Poppy. Sheesh, you aren’t easy. I thought you’d like getting dressed up. That you’d be excited to go out and meet a handsome boy.”

  “My stomach is swimming with butterflies.”

  “That’s good,” she assures me.

  I walk over to the bathroom that we share in our room. At least I was lucky to get a dorm room that had its own bathroom. The next building over has communal bathrooms and I could never imagine having to shower with guys around.

  I take off my glasses and put in the contacts. This guy isn’t going to know the real me because I look nothing like myself right now.

  I walk out of the bathroom and Bonnie’s jaw drops. “Damn, you clean up nice.”

  “Thanks?” My face scrunches up.

  She moves her head back and forth. “No, you need to smile and say thank you. Batting your eyelashes a little will help too. You want to come off confident.”

  “You do realize I lack confidence, right?” I remind Bonnie. I don’t have a problem admitting my shortcomings. I just don’t know how to fix the problem either. I’m a journalism major and if I want to get ahead while I’m here, confidence is kind of a necessity. The journalism program is majorly competitive and after freshman year it’s well known that certain students find internships working with some of the larger newspapers and broadcasting stations in Boston. That is part of the reason I’m pushing myself out of my comfort zone tonight. It’s not only about being kissed, it’s also about me finding my backbone.

  “You’ve got confidence, you just haven’t discovered it yet. Just wait until you walk into that bar. You’re going to turn heads. Cage is going to be completely enthralled with you and it’s always nice to have a hot guy drooling over you. It does wonders for your ego.” She smirks like she knows the feeling well.

  “When you talk like that I want to run and hide in my bed under the blankets,” I pout.

  She passes me her purse with my stuff in it. “Call the Uber now. I don’t want you backing out. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”

  ONE

  Poppy

  I have my phone screen open to Cage’s picture. I don’t see him anywhere in the bar. I get a sinking feeling I’ve been ditched, but Bonnie is right. Guys are walking by and smiling at me. They are checking me out and giving me a one-up glance that definitely shows they appreciate what they see. It feels weird and I’m definitely not used to this kind of attention.

  My phone pings with a text from Cage.

  Cage: I see you. I’m here by the bar. You’re more beautiful in person.

  Oh, that’s sweet of him to say. I walk over to the bar. There are a few couples sitting together and talking. There’s a guy holding a beer bottle and staring at it like it has all the answers to life, and just past him is another guy who’s smiling wide and checking me out, but I don’t see Cage or someone that resembles the pic he posted on the app. I walk over to the bar next to the smiling dude, thinking I will text Cage my location from here.

  Me: I’m here. On the north side of the bar.

  I send the text and instantly regret it because my description sounds weird.

  The phone of the guy beside me pings, and my gaze is drawn to his screen. My stomach sinks. Oh no.

  “Poppy?” The guy sitting beside me, the one who smiled at me, the one who I thought must be in his forties, is talking to me. I have clearly texted him but that can’t be right because Cage is supposed to be a sophomore at Westfall.

  “Um,” I mutter. “Cage?”

  “Yes,” he says excitedly.

  “That can’t be. There’s no way you’re a sophomore,” I argue, checking him out. His expanded waistline and gray hair on the sides of his head say otherwise.

  “That pic was of me as a sophomore at Westfall.” He grins and chuckles.

  I pick up my purse. “I’m leaving.” I thought that app was exclusive to Westfall students.

  Cage takes my arm. “Hold up now, sweetheart. It’s still me, the same guy in that pic. I’ve just aged some.”

  “I’m leaving,” I repeat. “I don’t appreciate getting catfished.”

  “Oh, come on now,” he says but he doesn’t release my arm.

  “Let go of my arm now or I swear I’ll scream,” I warn. The bar is loud with chatter and rock music, but I’m pretty sure I can use my vocal cords to their full potential. Just as I open my mouth to wail, the dude beside us, the one who was staring at his beer bottle like it had all the answers to life turns to us.

  “If I were you, I’d release that lady right now,” he says but he’s slurring. Geez. This night just keeps getting better and better.

  “Mind your damn business,” Cage barks at the guy. Then he turns back to me. “Babe, give me a chance.”

  “I’m not giving you a chance,” I say, my tone filled with disgust. “You deceived me above all else. Deception doesn’t deserve second chances.”

  The drunk guy chooses then to stand up. He’s swaying a little but I take him in. He’s well over six feet tall with a build of a hockey player. The only reason I say that is because my brother plays for the Westfall hockey team. The guy has dark hair that peeks out of his cap and his eyes are the most intoxicating color of gray I’ve ever seen, like storm clouds. He uses his hand and leans on the bar to straighten himself out. “Look, buddy. I don’t know what your deal is, but this girl wants nothing to do with you. Just accept it and move on because even though I’m pretty sloshed right now, I can still take you,” he says. Holy shit, when did my life become so dramatic?

  The tall handsome savior looks down at catfish man because he must be at least five inches taller than him. Catfish man releases my arm and says, “Okay. Fine. Shit.” He shakes his head like he feels he’s been wronged. “Bitch,” he says to me and then he stalks off.

  “Do you want me to punch him out?” drunk guy asks me. “I can still do it drunk, trust me, I’m a hockey player. We fight all the time. No man should talk to a lady that way.”

  “That’s okay,” I say to Drunk Guy. “He just left the bar anyway.” I slink into the barstool feeling drained. So much for my first real date and getting kissed.

  The bartender walks over to me and asks what I’d like to drink. I order a club soda. I’m only eighteen and a half and I don’t have a fake ID. The bartender nods and grabs a glass and pours me the soda.

  “I’ll take another one of these,” Drunk Guy says to the bartender from beside me.

  “You’ve had enough, McAvoy. How about we switch it up to water?” the bartender suggests and places a cup in front of Drunk Guy and fills it with water.

  My phone beeps and I check to see that Bonnie sent me a text to see how the intro with Cage went. I’m feeling disappointed and completely drained. So I answer one word. Awful. I put my phone in my purse, or Bonnie’s purse, and I take a deep breath.

  “How did you get mixed up with that grandpa?” Drunk Guy asks from beside me.

  “I’m seriously asking myself the same question,” I huff, but I don’t answer Drunk Guy because saying I found grandpa on College Pro will sound pathetic. br />
  “He totally catfished you, didn’t he?” Drunk Guy replies.

  Shit. Talk about embarrassing.

  A flush crawls up my cheeks. “Yeah.” I nod, feeling mortified because Drunk Guy is seriously good-looking.

  “Which app was it?” he asks.

  “College Pro.” I wince.

  “Never used that one myself. Actually, I’ve never used any app. I play for the Westfall Dragons. I don’t need that.” He pauses, shakes his head, and then he starts nodding his head. “I need a filter right now.”

  I laugh. He’s funny. He plays on the same hockey team as my brother, Ryse. I know they are all good guys and Ryse is really close with them. He’s clearly not a lunatic because he just saved me from Cage, the old dude. I wonder why he’s sitting in a bar drinking by himself though. I know Ryse doesn’t drink much once the season starts.

  “I’m not trying to be funny,” Drunk Guy says and then he extends his hand to me. “Declan McAvoy.”

  I shake his hand. “Poppy.” I don’t give him my last name. I don’t want him knowing that I am Ryse’s little sister. I hate being the little sister because since high school Ryse has threatened every boy on the block away from me. To my dismay they all listened.

  “Poppy,” Declan repeats. “Nice name.”

  “It’s all right,” I say and take a sip of my soda. “Thanks for saving me from that loser.”