Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move.
Good Pucking Luck, an all-new low angst, hookup arrangement, M/M hockey romance and the first book in The Jilted Exes’ Club from bestselling author Riley Hart is now available!
Hayes
Proposing to my first boyfriend at a hockey game wasn’t my smartest move. Not only does said boyfriend walk out on me, but the whole stupid thing goes viral, and it turns out the man I was dating has too many boyfriends to count. Internet fame has crowned me a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club, a name I’d do anything to escape.
One thing’s for sure: I’m not making the same mistake again. No more boyfriends, just easy hookups. And I’ll start with this gorgeous catch in Seattle. The only problem…he’s a god in bed, and I’m an inexperienced mess.
Rylan
After a night with Hayes, I play some of the best games of my career. It’s meant to be a one-and-done deal, but when I find out he also lives in LA and doesn’t want anything serious, I see an opportunity.
Hayes wants experience. I want my good-luck charm to help me win the cup.
The media would go wild over a pro hockey player dating a member of the Jilted Exes’ Club—a distraction neither of us needs. We want this to stay simple. Easy. No strings, no falling in love.
Except I’m pretty sure I’ve already fallen. After all Hayes has been through, how do I get him to entrust his heart to someone who’s only ever been labeled a player on and off the ice?
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I hate hockey.
My boyfriend—hopefully my fiancé by the end of tonight—absolutely loves it. If Malcolm didn’t, I can guarantee you that sitting in this arena is the last way I’d be spending my night. In the beginning, I tried to ask him questions about the game, wanting to learn more about something he loves, but my questions were too much, frustrating him and keeping him from enjoying the action.
Malcolm shoves to his feet beside me, arms in the air, and I can only assume the LA Rebels did something good. This is a preseason game, and I don’t get why it counts, but it is what it is.
“Woohoo!” I exclaim belatedly, standing too, and of course that’s exactly when everyone sits down, looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“Hayes, sit down,” Malcolm hisses, annoyance in his voice.
Damn it. I don’t want to mess this up. Tonight is our night. I want to treat him to the perfect evening, where I’ll get on one knee and ask him to be my husband.
I plop down in the seat, my heart beating a little too fast. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Just…whatever. Have fun and be chill.”
I nod, thankful he’s willing to be patient with me. It’s taken me a while to figure out how to be a good boyfriend, mostly because it’s not something I’ve ever done before Malcolm. Which at twenty-six is incredibly sad, but I didn’t grow up the way most people do. My parents own the Rockwell, a high-end hotel chain throughout the United States and Europe. We traveled most of my life, and I was homeschooled. Even when we were home in New York, where I’m from, I never got along with my parents’ friends’ kids. I get that I can rub people the wrong way sometimes, and that’s fine by me. I don’t really care…mostly.
College was the first time I stayed put, but I was busy with school, not trying to find boyfriends. I wouldn’t have complained if one had fallen into my lap, but that didn’t happen until Malcolm started pursuing me eight months ago.
Honestly, I thought it was a joke at first, but it wasn’t. He just felt…connected to me, which is a really amazing feeling.
Malcolm watches the game, and I watch him.
I stick my hand in my pocket to make sure the ring is still there. It is. My stomach tightens in anticipation.
I want this. This is what people do, right? They meet their person, have okay sex, fall in love, then get married. Malcolm has told me over and over how much I mean to him, how terribly he’s been treated by exes in the past—being cheated on, lied to, used.
For the first time in his life, he’s with someone who sees his worth. And for the first time in mine, I have a person. Someone who deals with my finicky ways. I can be a lot, but Malcolm puts up with it, lets me know when I’m being…well, me, and I should dial it back a little.
I startle when two players slam into the plexiglass thingies.
“It’s so violent,” I tell Malcolm.
“It’s just a game, Hayes.” He claps and cheers with everyone around me, and I try to pretend I’m interested, each second my stomach twisting more and more in anticipation, until it’s the end of the second period…which is my time.
I pull the box out of my pocket and slide to the dirty floor, which I didn’t think about ahead of time. I totally wish I would have brought something with me to kneel on.
I open the box, hands shaking. People around us begin paying attention, tapping each other on the shoulders and pointing their phones at us.
Malcolm is too distracted by his phone to notice. I’m not sure what’s so interesting, since he doesn’t know much about technology and doesn’t have social media.
I clear my throat.
“Hayes, can you get me a drink and—” He looks my way, sees me, sees the ring. “What are you doing?”
“Aww! They’re on the jumbotron!” says a woman in the row in front of us.
Malcolm’s gaze flashes up to it, but I can’t take my eyes off him. “These last months have been…awesome,” I say because I’m not sure how else to describe them.
“I know it’s soon, but I’m not like those other men you’ve dated. I want to be with you, want you to know how important you are to me. Malcolm, will you marry me?”
“Put that away!” There’s panic in his voice, which I don’t understand. His pupils have blown wide, his head jerking around like he expects the secret service to jump out and grab him. Is he on the run? “Hayes, Jesus Christ. What the fuck are you doing?” He grabs his jacket and puts it over his head as I try to comprehend what’s happening. Is it because I did it here? I thought he would like it, considering how much he loves hockey. Plus, Malcolm loves to be the center of attention, loves to be showered with it, but maybe I fucked up. Maybe he wants this moment to be something just between the two of us. Something small and romantic.
“I’m sorry. I just…” I don’t have words to continue. I feel every eye on me now, every camera facing us. I want to slink into the floor, climb under these chairs and never come out.
“What was I thinking? I’ve ruined everything.
“Move. Get out of the way,” Malcolm says tersely, pushing around me and walking away.
The arena gets echoey around me. My vision blurs, heart trying to beat its way out of my chest.
“Maybe you should get up,” one of the people in front of me says, but I can’t think. Can’t move. How did I get that so spectacularly wrong? I thought this would make him happy, would make us both happy. He’s always telling me how much he loves me, how different I am, how special. How he wants to spend his life with me.
I’m not sure how I screwed this up, but I’m determined to fix it.
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