Ice Hockey Stud and His Best Friend's Sister

Cody

“What the fuck, man.” I’m not impressed. Atlas is standing in front of me, his bare chest on full display. We’ve just come off the ice and the game was hard, the opposition almost kicked our asses but I managed to score in the last two minutes. Way. To. Go, me.

“Don’t be like that, Cody.” Atlas starts drying himself off and pulls on his boxer shorts. Good, because I sure don’t like having a conversation with a man with his tackle on display. “You need someone in to help keep your place in condition and to cook for you. It’s Imogen or someone you don’t know that will be assigned you.”

FFS, I don’t need anyone around my place fluffing up damn pillows, cleaning and taking care of me. I’m a frigging adult already. I’m twenty-four, a centre player for the best ice-hockey team here in Minnesota and definitely not someone who needs a wet nurse.

“Imogen is just a kid, man. The last time I saw her she had pigtails still.” Okay, maybe she didn’t but that’s how I’ll always remember her. The annoying little sister of Atlas. The one that would always try to hang out with us, follow us around and just you know, being a damn nuisance. She is certainly not someone I want sharing my house with to run around after me.

“You’ve got no choice. Coach wants us all to have help and personal cooks to keep our nutrition up. No more shit fries and burgers for you, my man.” I want to knock that smirk right off Atlas’ face but I won’t. He’s been my best friends since in the womb.

Our parents live next door to each other in the small-town of New Ulm, my folks have always lived there, their parents lived there and I’m supposed to live there too. I don’t. I’ve got a pad right out of the way that’s enormous and looks over Lake Minnetonka, I’m based in Maple Forest one of the most sought after areas here in Minnesota. I love the views, the serenity and my towering ceilings where the sun drenches my living space.

“Besides,” Atlas continues now fully dressed, “Imogen arrives tomorrow so you’ve got twenty-four hours to get used to the idea and she has nowhere to stay.”

“Why can’t she stay at yours?” I sling my shirt over my broad shoulders, zip up my fly on my torn designer jeans and slam my locker shut. This crap about us all needing a nutritionist and housekeeper is fucking ridiculous. Coach wants us to win the season, we’ve won it three times straight and the pressure is on.

“Because I’m with Fallon and she’ll cramp our style. I don’t want my kid sister hanging out with us.”

“Jeez-us.” I mutter.

“Listen, bro you’ve got no choice. I’ve already told her she could stay at yours so long as she keeps you in tip-top shape.” I scowl at him. Like I need keeping in shape. I’m fitter than anyone I know. I put the hours in the gym, I run miles every morning at six a.m before most people are out of bed let alone awake. I do Pilates and Yoga to keep my core strength up-to speed.

“And there’ll be no dating her either. I know how much you like to lay anything that has a heartbeat. But no way can you touch Imi.”

“Like I fucking would. What do you take me for? She’s a kid.” I sling my bag over my shoulder, check I’ve got the keys to my car and look Atlas in the eyes. “She better not get under my feet nor cramp my style either. I have a life.”

“Thanks Cody. I owe you one.”

“Don’t you forget it, Atlas.” We say goodbye since he’s heading over to visit his folks then over to the airport to pick Imogen up. The plan is she’ll stay with her folks for the night then Atlas is planning on bringing her over to mine. Being Sunday I’ll be home after my workout or I may just workout downstairs in my home gym.

As I approach my Rolls-Royce Cullinan SUV, I grin and think damn it. I’ve really made it. From the scrawny kid who used to knock the puck around to this. The top ice hockey player in the country. You’ve got it, that’s me. Cody Brannigan. Every team wants me but I’m not moving from Minnesota. No way. I love it here. I grew up here and my folks and Atlas are here and my baby brother, Drake.

I slip into the leather driver’s seat and switch the ignition on and let it purr before gliding it from the stadium thinking about what a drag it’s going to be, to have Atlas’ little sister, Imogen being in my house. If she thinks I’m going to be Mr Nice she’s got another thing coming. That little pain in the ass isn’t going to see one smile break across my face.

I listen to one of my favourite singers on my stereo and play it loud enough to be heard in the next State. Why not? I can do what the fuck I want and I usually do. It takes twenty minutes to get to my house and instead of noticing the trees with their Fall colours of reds, browns and russets my mind is on Imogen. I’m mad as hell. I like my own space and now I’m going to have my style cramped well and truly. There’ll be no more running around half-naked, I certainly don’t want her getting any designs on me.

Most women fall at my feet, and Atlas is right I do tend to give it to any girl that puts herself in my face. I like sex so what? I’m only twenty-four, you tell me a guy my age that isn’t a red-blooded male. I have needs just like any other guy. I don’t expect Atlas to understand, he’s settled down with Fallon his childhood sweetheart. They’ve been together since they were sixteen.

They’ll be married in a couple of years no doubt and then they’ll have babies. I groan, that is the last thing on my mind. I am never settling down, not until I’m at least in my thirties. I’m all about getting out there and having fun. So long as it doesn’t distract me from being the number one play in the States, I’m happy.

As soon as I’ve pulled up onto my drive way my mobile beeps. I pick it up and see an image on it sent by Atlas. The woman in the photo is HOT. Scorching Hot. That’s one lady I’d like to lay.

Then I read the caption under the image, IMOGEN.

Holy crap.