Cocky Score (The Hawkeyes Hockey Series)
Cocky Score: Chapter 9

“Conley! Conley! Over here!”

I hear yelling and flashes as I sit in the media room, up on the podium by myself. Sam is off to my right and out of the shot as he makes sure that the media colors inside the lines and stays away from subjects that are outlined by the franchise that the media can’t ask.

The other guys wait in the hallway for their required media time. I wait for the barrage of questions I know are coming my way. Hands are lifted, hoping I’ll pick them to ask the same question they ask every game.

I pick one of the media outlets I see every week sitting right in front of me. He smirks, happy to be the first.

“Conley, this was a tough game for your team this week. With such a close game, how did you feel about the way your team performed?” Although I typically hate these questions, I could kiss the man for not asking what I know most of these assholes want to ask: who the hell was the woman you were kissing earlier this week in front of the restaurant?

“We knew coming into this game that we were playing against a great team, and they played like a great team. We expected this game to be a challenge to pull out the win, and that’s what it was, a challenge.”

It’s funny how easy it’s become after all these years of doing after-game interviews to say something… but really not say anything at all.

“Conley! Conley…!” the media room erupts again.

I point to someone further back. He looks like a no-nonsense kind of guy.

“Conley, you were spotted yesterday with a mystery woman.” Damn it, I read that guy wrong. “The reports are claiming you’ve been hiding her away for some time. Care to share some information about the new woman in your life with your fans?”

I look over at Sam, and he nods as if to say, “Go on, asshole, we pay you well enough for this shit, so don’t fuck up.”

“I’ve known her since we were kids. We grew up together. That’s all I’m saying about it. Please respect her privacy.” Right… as if they give a flying fuck about that.

The reporter I pointed to tries to ask a follow-up question, but I point to a different reporter when all of their hands go back up.

“Is it true that she’s the sister of your best friend since childhood? A hockey player that got injured his freshman year in college? Isaac Daughtry—”

“That’s enough!” I bark, standing out of my chair immediately, the chair falling backwards to the ground with the force of my movement, but I got what I wanted… the media room goes stark quiet for a second besides the sound of flashing cameras.

Bringing up Isaac is a good reminder of exactly why Isaac’s going to be furious about this whole situation. His sister is now a public target, and I let it happen. He won’t give a shit that she’s angling for a promotion. He’ll only care that I didn’t protect her the way he thinks I should be. He’ll think I should be protecting her from being harassed at the supermarket by fans, or followed home by paparazzi trying to get a photo of us together, or protecting her from dating a guy like me. “Sounds like you have all the information you need anyway. You don’t need me. This interview is over,” I say, pushing out of my chair and stomping off the podium.

I want to tell them to mind their own fucking business, but this is what Sam and Phil want. This is what Autumn is counting on. Distract, deflect and…. de-sleaze Conley.

I get it, okay?

And I’ll be the good boy they want and give the media what they’re asking for. But if things weren’t as they are, if Autumn Daughtry wasn’t my fake girlfriend and she and I were really dating, I’d tell them to keep her name out of their mouths and leave her the hell alone. I’d do everything in my power to protect her from the media’s scrutiny, which is sure to follow after today. I’d never let them touch her if it was up to me. A feeling I’ve never felt about any other woman I’ve dated. Probably because most of those women want notoriety, hoping it will angle them toward a blue checkmark on their social media account or a makeup brand spokesperson deal. But that’s not what Autumn wants. This isn’t about publicity for her. She just wants to do the best she can at her job and maybe even help me in the process.

Spending time with her yesterday at the restaurant was unexpectedly enjoyable. She’s feistier than I remember, jumping into my arms and kissing me without any warning, and now she’s all grown up. She grew into that awkward, lanky body. The mouthguard and braces turned that smile into a million watts.

I had her on my mind the rest of the day yesterday after we parted ways, and I woke up wondering when I’d get to see her today. I looked for her all over the stadium when I got on the ice. I looked for her in the stands, in my box seats, until finally, I caught a glimpse of her in the owner’s box.

None of that means I have any interest in her. More like curiosity. And if I was ever interested in dating anyone seriously… If I weren’t forced into this situation, my plans to stay a bachelor for the foreseeable future would still be in effect. And if I had someone who I’d consider bringing home to Mom to get her off my case about settling down with someone, I wouldn’t pick Autumn Daughtry as that person. I can’t. There’s too much history. Our lives are too entwined for this to work.

Our dad’s still bullshit in the backyard over the occasional BBQ and beer when Washington weather allows.

If I brought Autumn home for Christmas, our moms would lose their…

Oh fuck.

Our moms.

Goddamn it!

I didn’t even consider this shit show that will soon be a barrage of text messages and calls from my mother asking why she’s the last to know and when Autumn plans to get pregnant with my mom’s first grandchild. I’ve been too focused on Isaac lighting me up that I never considered how our mothers are going to react the second they see the news. I’m going to have to discuss this with Sam and get a pass on secrecy with my mom. I can’t lie to that woman. Not as in I’m incapable of it, more like that woman is a human lie detector test, and she knows when I’m hiding something from her.

I push past Sam, and he follows directly behind me as I exit the media room and enter the hallway. I can sense a couple of other reporters following me out as Altman pats my shoulder as I pass him in the corridor, he’s up next, and I know he’s been through the wringer with the media as of late with the news of him being a single father to a child he never knew about. Now there’s new blood in the water. I hope at the very least this pain in my ass might give him a break. Unfortunately, the media is good at multitasking.

I nod at him and then stare down the hall as I have the exit in my sights with three or four people on my heels, “Conley! Conley!…” I still hear, but the second my eyes settle on the beautiful brunette standing at the end of the hall with a sexy smirk across her lips, I’m almost half tempted to try that kiss again… just to wipe that smirk off her face. Yeah, that’s the only reason.

I see Tessa to my left as I walk through the hallway.

“They’re right on your toes, Conley. You’re on,” Tessa says to me under her breath so that only I hear it.

Then she disappears in the other direction.

The Hawkeyes want something for the cameras? Fine.

“You played good tonight, Conley,” Autumn says as I get closer. She pushes off the wall, and I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her to the exit with me. I take her by surprise, and it takes her a second to adjust to the large length of my steps and the fact that she has to keep up while I keep her side plastered to mine.

Once we’re moving in sync, she gets up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek as we walk. I can feel the flashes of cameras as she kisses me from the handful of media still following us out.

“Autumn! Autumn…!” the media yells at her. She chuckles and then wraps her arm undermine and around my waist. She has to take two steps for every one I take, but she does a good job at keeping up.

“Looks like they didn’t rip you to shreds. You’re still in one piece,” she says while patting over both of my pecs and then my stomach as if to make sure I’m still in one piece. I don’t like the way my body lights up to her touch.

“Narrowly escaped with my life.”

She laughs and squeezes my side, pulling her further into me as I pull us closer to the exit. I love her laugh. It’s the adult version of the easy-to-laugh girl from my past. “Don’t worry. I would have gone in after you… no man left behind. We’re in the trenches together, Conley,” she teases, gripping slightly on my jacket. I know she’s kidding, but damn, does it feel good to hear someone say that.

To no longer be on my own.

To have someone in my corner.

I push the single door open, and she releases me to follow behind. Without thinking, I grab her hand and hold it in mine as I pull her through the door with me. Something about being connected feels more natural than it should.

“Where did you park?” I ask.

“I took an Uber in. I’ll order one now,” she says releasing my hand and then grabbing her phone out of her back pocket and stopping at the end of the sidewalk curb directly in front of the players’ parking.

I stop, too, and turn to directly in front of her, grabbing her phone from her and then sticking it in her jacket pocket. “Then you’re with me tonight, Daughtry.” I say, leaning in a little closer.

“Is that so?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, bating me.

There’s that feisty girl she shows me every once in a while, and damn, am I getting used to seeing it.

“You’re my girlfriend, right? I can’t show up to the bar tonight without you. That’ll look weird. Especially since you came to the game.”

She thinks for a second, looking up at the dark night sky. It’s too overcast to see the stars tonight.

“True. I guess you’re right. We could use some more public exposure.”

Exposure, yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.

“I can meet you there,” she offers, looking down at her phone and that stupid RideShare app.

“Not a chance,” I say, pulling her hand back into mine and then tugging her toward the players’ parking lot and off the curb with me. “You’re riding with me.”

“Are you kidnapping me?”

“Of course I am, if you won’t come willingly.”

I look back at her giving her an eyebrow raise.

“Well, I’d try to make a run for it, but you have a death grip on my hand. And I’ve never beat you or Isaac in a foot race. I have a feeling twelve million a year means I’m not going to today either. I doubt they dish out that kind of cheddar for a slow poke.”

I laugh. “No, they don’t. Otherwise, they’d be a losing team.”

I look over my shoulder, and Autumn throws back her head laughing. That feels like a win all on its own.

We walk up to my silver Audi R8 that I bought myself two years ago when I signed a huge endorsement deal with an electrolyte water bottle company. I open her door, and in my peripheral, I see the flashes of cameras. Fuck, I forgot about them. Why the hell did they follow us out here? They never do that shit.

Autumn takes a seat in the red leather passenger seat, and I close her door when I know all of her limbs are safely stowed inside. I round the car and climb inside, ignoring questions the media is asking from the cement sidewalk of The Hawkeyes property that they are supposed to stay on. It’s about half an ice rink away from us where The Hawkeyes rules state that media aren’t allowed in the players’ parking lot. It’s sort of like our safe zone in a game of tag. They can’t touch us here.

I start up my car, pull out of my parking spot, and head for Oakley’s Bar, a low-key, hole-in-the-wall sports bar that Seven Wrenley found before I got signed with the team almost ten years ago. It’s a place that we all go to after a game or after practice, and Oakley, the owner, will kick anyone out who tries to hassle us.

My teammates were razzing me earlier today about the chick who was caught on camera jumping my bones in broad daylight a couple of days ago. The last thing I want to do is put Autumn through the wringer with these guys tonight, but I guess that’s what we signed up for and by tomorrow, we’ll see them every day when we start living in the same building as they do. I haven’t told any of them that Autumn and I are fake, and I’d prefer to keep it that way until it eventually comes out on its own.

Bring on the shit show.

“Stuck in the trenches” is right.

But something about being stuck in them with Autumn doesn’t make it so unbearable.