Making His Move: Buffalo Bedlam, #1

By Susan Scott Shelley

Rod Fraser should be on top of the world—his hockey team just won the Cup. But as the backup goaltender, he didn't see any ice time during the playoffs, and the victory felt hollow. Now a free agent, he's hoping for a starting job with another team, and returns to his hometown to wait for news and enjoy the summer break. When he sees his best friend's sister, who he's had a thing for forever, and who is now single, nothing can hold him back from pursuing her heart.

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Arielle Charton returned to Holiday, NY to rebuild her life and mend a broken heart, and for the last eight months, she's done just that. The shy artist can't believe that Rod, her first crush, wants her too. She can't afford—literally or emotionally—to allow another man to distract her from her goals. But Rod is a temptation she can't resist.

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Rod and Arielle's summer fling has the potential to be so much more, but can their relationship survive the defenses she's built and the uncertainty of what happens when summer ends?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Scott Shelley
• Release date: May 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944220181

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Some men reached for alcohol in times of strife, but Rod Fraser preferred a strong java with lots of cream and sugar. And he needed a serious caffeine fix right about now.

He downed a few gulps of the liquid fuel gone cold and turned the car off the highway. To-go cups of his favorite brew had been his only companions during the road trip from New Orleans to Holiday, New York. The twenty-plus hours behind the wheel were the first span of alone-time that he'd had in months.

Plenty of time to think.

Plenty of time to gain a new appreciation for the chaos and chatter his teammates brought to every hockey game, practice, and road trip.

Plenty of time to realize he'd miss the hell out of them if he left the team.

But if he stayed, he'd continue to be the backup goalie.

He wanted to be number one.

But that wouldn't happen as long as he remained a member of the Cajun Rage. The reigning Cup champions. The first team to give him a shot at the top tier of the professional level.

A small part of his mind whispered that he should be grateful and stay where he was, but the rest of him screamed for a chance to prove he was as good as the best goalies in the league.

Frustration laced through his thoughts, had him shifting in his seat, glaring at the cars and lights and remaining miles that kept him from home. He wanted to get there before dark. The last of the sunset streaked the horizon with red and pink and gold. Accelerating the car, he passed a minivan, then two SUVs, not slowing until he'd reached the Welcome to Holiday sign.

He sighed and sucked down the rest of his coffee. His muscles ached from sitting for too long, his head ached from the constant debating of stay or go, and his system jangled from way too much caffeine.

Not that there was such a thing.

Tossing the cup aside, he pulled into the driveway of the house he shared with his brother, Dylan. Being home would help him make the right decision. Dylan would understand what he was going through. So would his dad. Having pro-hockey players in the family was a huge help.

Before he could hit the button for the garage, the large door rolled open, and Dylan emerged, waving.

Rod grinned, and the tightness in his shoulders eased. He parked next to his brother's car, careful of the hockey equipment lining the wall.

As soon as he stepped out of his SUV, his brother caught him in a hug. Hey, you made it.

The heat of the August night wrapped around him, along with a cool current of air-conditioning from the open door to the house. Rod slapped Dylan on the back then pulled away. Being home meant decent leftovers. Good to see you, bro. Any food in the fridge?

Dylan peered into the front seat and grabbed one of his bags. Shit. How many coffees did you have? Did all of them contain a shot of espresso? That's not a good dinner…

Didn't want to stop and eat. Just wanted to get home. Out-running or out-driving his thoughts hadn't worked. He needed to be here; he needed the few weeks with Dylan and the rest of their family.

I know the feeling. Still, I'm glad you broke the trip into two days.

No way did I want to try driving straight through again. He'd made that mistake two summers ago, after his first year with the team. Rod heaved the bag with his hockey equipment over his shoulder then grabbed the two remaining suitcases. I really am starving.

Dylan led the way into the house. Not much had changed since his last visit at Christmas. I thought we'd head over to Tap Out. You can grab something to eat there.

The bar was close, noisy as hell, and one of his favorites. Rod set his bags on the floor and stretched. I don't know. I'm kind of beat.

One drink. Come on. I never got to buy you that drink after you won the Cup.

True. He'd been so busy celebrating with his teammates that he hadn't had a chance to enjoy that victory with his brother. He'd gone right from the celebration and parade to playing in the National Cup game and then charity tournaments, hoping that by showcasing his skills, he'd receive an offer from another team. A month and a half filled with work when he should have been resting his exhausted body.

He wanted to dive into sleep, but he'd really missed hanging out with Dylan. Fine. But you're buying dinner, too.

I'll even drive.

No way would he argue with that.

Within minutes, they were on the road and pulling into the crowded parking lot. When they entered the bar, several people shouted and waved. The Buffalo suburb was home to several of the Buffalo Bedlam players, and Dylan as team captain commanded a lot of attention. But rather than calling for his brother, people were cheering Rod's name.

Brows raised, Rod glanced at Dylan. His brother just grinned and clapped him on the back. I may have mentioned to a few people that you'd be back in town tonight.

In a place that only permitted customers to wear shirts supporting hometown teams, the number of Cajun Rage t-shirts, complete with his number on the back, made him feel like a hometown hero. This is insane. But awesome.

Let's get that drink. Dylan led the way to the bar.

Rod stopped to chat with old friends along the way, declining offer after offer of free drinks. The first drink of the night belonged to his brother.

Dylan handed him a beer, then clinked their glasses together. Congrats on the Cup again, bud. I'm happy for you.

Thanks. But the win was bittersweet. First, because as the backup goalie, he hadn't actually seen any ice time during the playoffs, so the victory felt hollow. And second, because Dylan's team had been knocked out of the playoffs in the conference finals. Of course, there wasn't any way they both could have won, not while they played on different teams. I'm sorry you didn't get to go any further.

Dylan nodded and then shrugged. It was probably better for Mom and Dad that our teams didn't end up going head to head. Besides, I think next season will be the Bedlam's chance. The rookies are settled, the defense is solid, goaltending top-notch, and all four offense lines are in tune. The guys have been getting together all summer, busting their asses.

That would be cool—both of us having our names on the Cup, to go along with Dad's. That was the one thing he loved most about the coveted trophy. Every player who won the Cup had their name etched onto the tiered bands.

Roddy, a voice called out, and he recognized it immediately. No one but his baby sister called him Roddy.

He turned in time to catch Kelsey's smile and then her hug. Hey, I missed you.

Well then, you should have come home sooner. She tapped his shoulder and then pulled away and gestured to her right. Arielle's here too. Say hello.

His gaze swept to the right and then his mouth went dry.

A vision from the past materialized before him, wearing jeans that could have been painted on and a pink tank top that hinted at her curves.

Arielle Charton. Kelsey's best friend and little sister to Ben Charton, his closest bud since grade school.

Hi, Rod. A slow smile stole across her face and her green eyes shined like emeralds.

He loved how the little tilt of her head that followed her smile always made her brown curls bob around her face. And the blush that always stained her cheeks. Small, with delicate features and a gentle spirit, she reminded him of something that needed to be protected.

Like from him. He'd had a thing for her for years. Since well before he should have. He had more than a soft spot for her, it was a caring that ran deep and mixed with an attraction that he'd tried to ignore. She'd been unavailable until recently, and now that they were in the same place for longer than a few days, maybe he could finally act on it. Arielle. How have you been?

The blush flushed deeper. Congratulations on winning the Cup.

He stood to offer her his bar stool and got a whiff of coffee. You smell great.

She wrinkled her nose. I smell like the coffee shop. I closed tonight so Ben could be home with Jacob.

How is that nephew of yours doing?

He wasn't feeling well and wanted his dad. I'm guessing the two of them are knee-deep into a cartoon marathon by now.

Rod! Hey, Rod, over here!

More and more people crowded in and called for his attention. Arielle drifted away, melting into the background with Kelsey before he could ask her to join him for a drink.

One hour stretched into two and then into three. Rod stole occasional glances at her throughout the night. He appreciated the friends and fans and food and drinks that flowed his way, but by eleven-thirty, he was dead on his feet.

Yet, when he spied Arielle hug his sister and then make her way toward the front door, fresh energy surged into him. He