Delay of Game (San Francisco Strikers Book 3) Read online

  Delay of Game

  San Francisco Strikers, book 3

  by Stephanie Kay

  Delay of Game

  Copyright © 2018 Stephanie Kay

  eBook Edition: April 2018

  Edited by Chelsea Kuhel www.madisonseidler.com

  Cover Art by Caitlin Fry

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

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Stephanie Kay. www.stephkaybooks.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  DELAY OF GAME

  San Francisco Strikers, book 3

  Can secrets designed to protect the ones they love end up tearing them apart?

  From a painful past nobody knows about to aspirations for the future, Sophia Lanzi has learned to lock things away to please those around her and to protect herself. Landing a job working for the top sports physical therapist in the city, avid hockey fan Sophia is taking a step toward fulfilling her dreams.

  But when sexy hockey player Eric “Finn” Finnegan enters the clinic for treatment after a devastating injury on the ice, Sophia only has more secrets to keep, as she develops more than a crush on her patient.

  The last thing Finn needs is a distraction, and especially in the form of Sophia Lanzi, a beautiful physical therapy assistant. Finn is desperate to get back to the game he loves and prove to everyone that their investment in him has been worth it, but the chemistry with Sophia is too strong to deny. Finn and Sophia can’t resist each other, and a kiss leads to a secret relationship. Secrets aren’t new to Finn, either, and he’s holding one that can destroy his family if it’s ever discovered.

  ~*~

  Please sign up for my newsletter for upcoming releases and exclusive excerpts. You can also email me at [email protected] or find me on Twitter or Facebook. For more information, please visit my website, www.stephkaybooks.com. You can also join my reader group on Facebook, Stephanie Kay’s Sassy Strikers. We discuss books, romance, dessert, and hockey butts.

  Dedication

  To my niece, Sophia. You cannot read this until you’re forty.

  And Auntie Steph promises to do a better job naming characters in the future.

  To my aunt Nancy. This is the first book I’ve had to write since you passed, and I hate that I don’t get to share this one with you. You are missed every day.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  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

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Unmatched

  About the Author

  Book Signings

  Books by Stephanie Kay

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many people to thank that I don’t know where to start.

  To Chelsea Kuhel, my wonderful editor, thank you for polishing up my writing and catching every word I missed. And I’m so sorry for not listing you in the acknowledgements in Unmatched. See what happens when I don’t list the acknowledgements in the version of the book I send to you!

  To Iveta Cvrkal, proofreader extraordinaire, thank you for finding every comma I missed…I hate commas!

  To Caitlin Fry, my fantastic cover artist. This cover is perfect for Finn and Sophia.

  To Samantha Wayland for getting me hooked on hockey. Bet you didn’t think I’d get this obsessed this quickly! Can’t wait for our next hockey road trip, you know, for research purposes. Maybe we can run into another AHL team on the road and recognize them by their outstanding asses.

  To Aven Ellis, for your awesome blurb skills and for helping me try not to over-analyze everything. I’m a work in progress.

  To my fantastic beta readers, Elaine and Sita. Thank you for helping me polish this book. Your comments helped immensely and I’m glad you enjoyed Finn and Sophia’s story.

  To the Bergy Babes. Thank God for summer hockey.

  To Kristen Bradshaw, PTA extraordinaire, thanks for answering all my questions about PT appointments. And thanks for kicking my butt after I dislocated my kneecap at my bachelorette party.

  To the Hearties. Thank you for welcoming me into this group of amazing hockey romance authors and for answering all of my questions. I’m sure I will pester you all with each book.

  To my Sassy Strikers. I can’t believe that people want to join my reader group and talk about my books! I know you’re just here for the hockey butts.

  To the members of Rhode Island Romance Writers, New England chapter of RWA, New Hampshire chapter of RWA, and all the writers I’ve met in the last decade, thank you for your workshops, conferences, and critiques. I’ve learned so much since I joined RWA. I shudder to think of how horrible that first historical romance is in comparison to my writing now.

  To my mom. You and Dad showed me how to have a successful 40+ year marriage through laughter and affection. You’ve also shown me that even in grief, you can become the strongest woman I know. So glad you are finally able to travel the world and have a social life I envy!

  To my amazing in-laws, thank you for letting me watch your hysterical Italian family for the last 15+ years. I still think about that first Christmas Eve. After everyone gorged themselves on seafood for dinner, my mother-in-law asked if anyone was hungry, and the family sat down to a lasagna she just had in the fridge and dove in…at eleven p.m.

  To my family for always encouraging me to go after my dreams and for your unwavering support, even if most of you don’t read romance novels…I’ll forgive you for that last indiscretion.

  And of course, to my husband, John, for more reasons than I can count. You were the one who encouraged me to get back to writing when I was laid off from my day job in 2008. Probably so I would leave you to your books and guitars. Chicken has dried out on the grill and sweet potatoes have been burned because I was working on a scene instead of focusing on dinner, but you never complained…well, not that loudly. And you agreed to let me live out my romance dreams and get married over the anvil in Gretna Green, Scotland, even if you did refuse to wear a kilt. Thank you for lo
ving my craziness and putting up with discussions about the characters in my head not doing what I want them to.

  And to my readers, thank you for continuing to read my books and fall in love with my characters as much as I have. I hope I make you laugh out loud and follow your heart. And to my readers that still love Grant the most, he has a few scenes in this book just for you.

  Please sign up for my newsletter for upcoming releases and exclusive excerpts. You can also email me at [email protected] or find me on Twitter or Facebook. For more information, please visit my website, www.stephkaybooks.com.

  Chapter 1

  “You’re late,” her father called out when Sophia walked through the kitchen door of Lanzi’s Thursday night.

  She bit back her grimace and grabbed the specials menu, ignoring her grumbling stomach as the scent of baked cheese and rich Bolognese hit her taste buds. Her sad turkey sandwich just a distant memory from a rushed lunch hours ago as she’d packed up the small box of her personal items.

  “I know, but I’m here now, and Becky’s got the front covered.” She peeked out of the swinging doors and scoped out the hostess stand. Two parties stood waiting as Sophia’s cousin Becky led a nervous looking couple to a booth in the corner. Probably a first date. Sophia would make sure there was extra bread in their basket. Carbs always smoothed things over.

  Their hands would bump as they reached for a fresh slice. Mumbled apologies and awkward smiles. They’d debate over wine, both wanting a little liquid courage. Would it be red or white? Sweet or dry? You could learn a lot about someone by their wine selection. Along with who caved first. It’d better be him.

  As much as Sophia didn’t want to spend her life at Lanzi’s, she loved the memories people made in her family’s restaurant. Because they always came back. For anniversaries and graduations, or a Friday night date away from the kids. And her family prided themselves on their regulars, their repeat customers who became family over the years.

  She held back her smile and turned to her father. He meant well, tugging her into a side hug. He smelled like this kitchen. His kitchen. A mixture of spices and her great-grandmother’s homemade gravy. Red sauce, or marinara, to the non-Italians.

  “Leave her alone. You should give her a night off,” her Aunt Rose said, shooting her a grin.

  “I don’t make her work every day,” her father said, his voice gruff, but with a smile.

  “Sophia, are you hungry? Bet you haven’t eaten all day. I’ll make you a plate,” Aunt Rose said.

  “I’m fine, I ate lunch. I’ll grab some food later. Should get out there and help Becky. It’s only going to get busier,” she said, straightening her headband to keep her uncooperative waves out of her eyes. Her hair was that undecided type, sometimes wavy, sometimes curly, all the time a pain in the ass. She’d straighten it, but she didn’t have the time or the energy.

  “You should quit that PT thing and just work here, like the rest of the family. Then you wouldn’t be late,” her father grumbled.

  “You should be proud of her. She’s starting at a new place next week. Her new boss is the best PT in the city.” Aunt Rose chastised her brother-in-law.

  Sophia grinned. “Thanks, Auntie.” She turned back to her father. “And not everyone in the family works here.”

  Her father harrumphed, and focused back on the chicken he was sautéing.

  “You should be here,” he muttered again, not looking back at her, and Sophia ignored him. He would never change. She’d accepted that. For the most part. Every so often she had the overwhelming urge to knock some sense into him, but he was set in his ways. If you had Lanzi blood in your veins, you worked at the restaurant. Three generations had continued to serve her great-grandmother’s recipes. They had traditions to maintain, and she understood that legacy, but she wished her father would be proud of what she’d accomplished outside of the restaurant’s walls.

  She would prove that with her new job. As of Monday morning, she’d be a PT assistant for Dr. Anders, and she was still pinching herself that she’d landed the position. The competition had been steep, and she’d stared at the phone after accepting, unbelieving at her luck. Her hard work had gotten her the job, and she’d do everything she could to prove she deserved it.

  Her family had protested when she’d gone to college at twenty, not for restaurant management, but for physical therapy. They’d humored her because she always came back to the restaurant, but one day she wasn’t going to come back. She was still working on how to tell them, but for now, she could hold down both jobs. Sleep was overrated.

  “You going out there?” her father asked, cutting into her thoughts that she had no desire to dwell on tonight. She didn’t miss his narrowed eyes and wrinkled brow.

  “I’m going. Anything I need to know?” she asked, smoothing down her shirt.

  “Nope. Now that you’re here, we’re at full staff. Kitchen is running on time,” her father said.

  “I’ll be back for a plate later,” she said, grabbing a piece of bread and shoving it in her mouth to tide her over. She pushed through the swinging doors and said hello to George, another cousin who was manning the bar with Nick and Caitlyn, also her cousins.

  Sophia had worked at her family’s restaurant since she was old enough to hold a pen and ask if you wanted penne or linguine with your meal. She’d been the head hostess since she graduated from high school. And as much as she loved her family, she had no desire to spend her life directing people to their tables with a smile.

  One day her family would understand that. They’d have to.

  “Good evening, three?” Sophia asked, addressing the couple and their teen son waiting at the hostess stand. At their nods, she scanned the table breakdown in front of her, and grabbed three menus. “Follow me. I hope you’re having a nice evening. Have you been here before?”

  “Last month was the first time. We’re new to the area,” the woman said.

  “Welcome back. I recommend the Bolognese tonight. With a cabernet. My mouth watered just walking through the kitchen,” she said, gesturing to the booth and sliding the menus in front of them. “Sean will be your waiter tonight and should be right over with water and bread. Let any of us know if you have questions.” She gave them one last smile before heading back to the now-empty hostess stand. Her gaze darted around the room. They’d be on a wait shortly, only a few empty tables remained and the dinner rush was just about to hit.

  ***

  “I’m ducking back to grab a bite,” Sophia said when they finally had a moment to breathe, almost two hours later. True to form, fifteen minutes after she’d seated the couple and their son, the dinner rush had picked up, and they’d ended up on a forty-minute wait. It was steady now, with only a few parties waiting. She scanned the restaurant, a handful of tables had their bills, and guests were finishing off their final glasses of wine.

  “Go. Go,” Becky said, with a wave. “Bet you’ve been non-stop today. At least you have tomorrow off.”

  Yes. One glorious day off since her new job didn’t start until Monday, and it was Thursday night.

  She laughed. “Yes. Day being the correct word, since I’m here again tomorrow night.”

  “This isn’t work. It’s family,” Becky said with a grin, and Sophia rolled her eyes at the family motto. At least it should be the family motto.

  “Don’t I know it,” Sophia said, before she headed back to the kitchen.

  “Thought you’d be back by now,” her father said, dishing up the Bolognese over fresh linguine that she’d been salivating over all night. She’d do an extra twenty minutes on the elliptical tomorrow to make up for it. She ignored him, and dipped a slice of homemade bread in the bowl. Her family might drive her crazy, but at least she was well-fed.

  “Since you don’t have that other job tomorrow, you should come by during lunch. Joy can’t come in,” he said, referring to their part-time hostess, and not a Lanzi.

  “You always ask for favors after you’ve put food
in front of me,” she said, glaring at him. “And I have plans tomorrow. I never get a day off.”

  “You would if you only worked here.”

  “Can we not do this tonight? Joy just let you know this today?”

  “Yep. That’s the problem with hiring people who aren’t family,” he grumbled, and she didn’t miss his pointed look.

  “I’ll be here,” she muttered, before taking a bite of rich Bolognese.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice. She refused to look up. He wrapped his arm around her, squeezing her tight.

  How many times was she going to cave?

  Eric Finnegan, known to his teammates as Finn, slammed his car door shut Monday morning, and reached for the crutch he’d rested against the frame. He hated that fucking thing, but at least he was down to one, and the cast with the never-ending itch he couldn’t reach was gone. Buzzed right off last week, revealing a calf muscle that he swore was shrinking each day. His footing still wasn’t what it used to be, so he’d kept the crutch handy. It taunted him, reminding him that he wasn’t at one hundred percent. As did the bulky walking boot that had replaced his cast.

  Not that he should be, months after being on the receiving end of a slap shot fired by one of the hardest hitters in the league. A shot that had broken his ankle in two places and required surgery. Now, numerous plates and screws held the bones together. It hadn’t shattered, but it’d been close. Too close.

  After seven years in the pros, this was the first injury that had ended a season early for him, and hobbling around wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his offseason. But now that the cast was off, he could start physical therapy. He knew guys who’d been back on the ice within five to six weeks of starting PT, and he was going to be on that list. Not in fighting form, of course, but he at least wanted to strap on a pair of skates and hear the smooth ice as he skated around the rink. He’d never gone this long without being out on the ice. The last three months had been endless.