Cole, p.1
Cole, page 1
Cole
Gentlemen of the Emerald City
L.A. Witt
Contents
About Cole
1. Parker
2. Cole
3. Parker
4. Cole
5. Parker
6. Cole
7. Parker
8. Cole
9. Parker
10. Cole
11. Parker
12. Cole
13. Parker
14. Cole
15. Parker
16. Cole
17. Parker
18. Cole
19. Parker
20. Cole
21. Parker
22. Cole
23. Parker
24. Cole
25. Parker
26. Cole
27. Parker
28. Cole
29. Parker
30. Cole
31. Parker
32. Cole
Epilogue
The Gentlemen of the Emerald City Series
The series continues!
Book 3 - Bryce
Also by L.A. Witt
Also by L.A. Witt
About the Author
Copyright Information
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Cole: Gentlemen of the Emerald City series, book 2
First edition
Copyright © 2021 L.A. Witt
* * *
Cover Art by L.A. Witt
Editor: Leta Blake
* * *
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact L.A. Witt at gallagherwitt@gmail.com
* * *
ISBN: 978-1-64230-115-1
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-74885-758-1
Created with Vellum
About Cole
Parker
This pro hockey thing is amazing! I’m playing in the big leagues. I have money for a change. And suddenly all the men who wouldn’t give me the time of day are falling all over themselves to hook up with me.
The only problem is that I’ve never been with anyone. That’s just what I need—some random hookup leaking it to the press that I’m a virgin who’s lousy in bed.
Maybe what I need is a little help from a professional.
Cole
Clients who want to lose their virginity are a dime a dozen. There’s something about Parker, though. Something that makes my heart go a little wild every time he books me, and it isn’t the money.
He’s better in bed than he thinks. He needs confidence, not guidance, and I’m happy to give him both.
But is it wrong to wish he’ll never stop coming back?
Gentlemen of the Emerald City
Cole is Book 2 of Gentlemen of the Emerald City, a sexy series centered around the high class, high-dollar Gentlemen of Seattle’s most exclusive escort service. Each book is full of snark, sass, and sweetness, and like any Emerald City client, you’re guaranteed a happy ending.
CW: Mild disordered eating
Chapter 1
Parker
“Good game, rookie!” Welch clapped my arm so hard I almost dropped my drink. “How’s it feel, getting your first goal?”
I grinned even as I put down the glass he’d nearly knocked out of my hands. “It’s about damn time!”
He and some of the other guys howled with laughter. “You hear this guy?” He slung an arm around my shoulders, almost toppling me this time. “A month into his rookie season and it’s about time!”
They laughed and cheered, and my cheeks were on fire, but I was also smiling so much my face hurt. It was true, the season had only started a month ago. Plus I’d barely played the first several games. I’d just been frustrated. With that big old zero in my career stats, I’d still felt like the kid trying to play with the big guys. Even getting that assist when Deacon scored three or four games ago hadn’t been enough.
But tonight had been different. Seven minutes into the second period, the red light had been all mine. The goal horn, the hometown crowd roaring to their feet, the word GOAL in bright lights all around the stadium—it had been mine. The moment these guys had started hugging me and high-fiving me had been the moment my place on the Seattle Breakers had finally felt real. I was still flying high now as we celebrated at a bar a couple of blocks from the arena.
No one was drinking real hard tonight. Not when we had to be at the airport at fuck-this-o’clock in the morning to fly to Houston. Still, the guys had insisted that, like any major milestone, no rookie’s first goal went uncelebrated, and they were buying everything I drank tonight.
Good God. Was this real? The Seattle Breakers were my teammates? And they were buying me drinks? As a kid, I’d been a huge fan of Phil Henderson, the legendary center for Atlanta and later for Denver, and now he was my head coach. Matt Smith’s photo was all over the place at my university, where he’d been one of the best defensemen ever to wear those colors, and now he was Smitty, the guy who snarked at me and helped me with my backhand. I’d studied Ethan Wright’s techniques, and now he was my roommate on road trips. I’d idolized Scott Deacon (though he’d turned out to be a bit of a dick in person), Alexei Vasiliev, Dmitry Turgenev, and Ty Warner, and now… How were we all wearing the same jersey? How were these guys clinking their glasses against mine and telling me “nice job” and reminding me that my goal had meant the difference between winning tonight and going into overtime?
It’d been overwhelming when I’d first been drafted by the team, especially when they’d sent me straight to the roster instead of having me cool my heels on the farm team. Tonight it was downright dizzying.
I’m a Seattle Breaker. I’m their teammate.
Oh my God, this is real!
Drink in hand, I mingled, still marveling that I was part of the team and not one of the fans. I mean, I was a fan, but I was… Jesus. Was this ever going to feel real? Or would I always feel like the kid tagging along with his big brother’s team?
My drink eventually ran out, and I went up to the bar to get some water. I’d barely picked up the glass before someone sidled up next to me.
“Hey, you’re Parker Dane, right? The rookie that scored?” Something about his grin made my heart speed up.
Swallowing, I nodded, and I smiled back timidly. “Y-yeah. That was me. First pro goal.”
“Nice one.” He smiled too, but there was still something in his eyes that had me even more nervous than I’d been before my first pro game. I knew what it was too, especially when he lowered his voice to a sultry whisper and asked, “How would you feel about scoring twice tonight?”
Instantly, my mouth went dry, and I must have been as red as the goal light. My starstruck celebratory mood vanished in favor of feeling conspicuous and embarrassed.
“I, uh…” I took a quick swig of water, then cleared my throat. “I’m flattered. I really am. But I have to be on the road at the crack of dawn.” With my glass, I gestured at my teammates. “Heading out for another game. In another city.” I laughed uncomfortably. “Never ends, you know?”
Undeterred, he narrowed his eyes a little. “We can be quick.” He nodded sharply toward the back of the bar, and my gaze went to the sign for the men’s room.
Oh God.
He was hot, too. Tall and lean, bearing just enough of a resemblance to Antoine Martel, a player I’d had a crush on since forever, to make me wish like hell I had the confidence to say yes. Somehow, I managed to croak, “Maybe another time.”
He held my gaze, his eyes asking if I was sure. No, I was not. But yes, I was. Because I totally wanted him, but… no. Not a chance.
With a clearly disappointed half shrug, he backed off. “Maybe another time.”
Then he turned to go, and I got a look at his jean clad ass. Suppressing a groan, I closed my eyes and slouched against the bar. He was cute as hell, and I would have loved to spend the night celebrating in bed with him. Or even a few minutes with him in a men’s room stall. I could still feel every second I’d spent on the ice, but adrenaline was keeping me going, and I really, really wanted to use that between the sheets.
I couldn’t, though. No way.
“Dane. My dude.” Smitty appeared beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Tell me I did not just see you turning down that hot piece of ass.”
My face was on fire. I couldn’t even look at him. It was great that everyone—almost everyone—on the team was cool with four of us being openly queer, but this was getting into “maybe a little too cool with it” territory. “I, um…” Gesturing after the hot guy, I muttered, “He’s all yours.”
Smitty didn’t move, though he pulled his hand back. He tilted his head and eyed me. “You just got your first pro goal.” Nodding in the direction the guy had gone, he added, “Don’t you want to score again?”
Oh, ha, ha. Everyone was going to use that line tonight, weren’t they? Fuck.
And, yeah, I did. I seriously did. I was also mortified that I’d not only let the guy go, but also that Smitty had noticed.
S
“It’s not that.” I dropped my gaze. I definitely didn’t believe I could have any man I wanted, but that wasn’t the issue here. “I, um…”
His voice softened a little. “What’s wrong?”
I chewed my lip. Hockey players were notorious for grabbing on to anything they could use to rib their teammates but there were lines. The other three gay players on the Breakers, including Smitty, had made it clear from day one that they had my back. They knew how tough it could be as an out queer player, even in this day and age. I appreciated that.
“Kid.” Smitty herded me away from the crowd, and we found a place in the back hallway that was relatively private. When he faced me, his expression was completely serious. The teasing was gone, replaced by sincere concern. “What’s up, man? You can tell me if it’s none of my business, but the vibe you’re giving off says something’s up.”
How the hell was I supposed to explain any of this? Ugh. But Smitty was a good guy. He’d been one of the first to really reach out and get to know me. I was pretty sure it was for the same reason Wright and Warner had—they’d all known I was queer, and they’d wanted to rally around me and make sure I knew I wasn’t alone. I appreciated that. I’d become fast friends with all three of them, especially Wright and Smitty. So if there was anyone on the team I could admit this to…
Sighing, I let my shoulders fall. “Promise this stays between us?” God, I sounded as stupid as I felt.
Smitty’s humor stayed gone, and he nodded solemnly. “Yeah, kid. What’s on your mind?”
I moistened my lips and glanced back toward the crowd we’d abandoned. Then I looked at Smitty again. “I’m afraid to hook up with one of these guys, because as soon as I do, they’re going to realize…” Was I really going to say it out loud? Really?
“Realize, what?” Smitty nudged. “Come on. It’s between us. Promise.”
I swallowed, and even I barely heard my voice as I whispered, “I’m a virgin.”
Smitty obviously heard, because I’d never seen his eyes that wide before. “Are you… Are you shitting me?”
Renewed heat rushed into my cheeks. I immediately regretted telling him, and I avoided his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone starts getting laid in high school, and I’m twenty-five and have never—”
“Hey, hey. Relax.” He squeezed my shoulder. “It just surprised me. That’s all.”
I laughed bitterly. “See what I mean? Everyone expects…” I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall. “Fuck, I’m so pathetic.”
“Nah, you’re not.” Smitty paused. “Let me ask you this—do you want to get laid?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation as I looked up at him. “But I can’t just go hook up with someone.” Raking a hand through my hair, I sighed heavily. “Any guy I’m with is going to expect me to be as good in bed as I am on the ice. He’ll think I’m a loser for making it this far in life without ever doing anything.”
“Maybe not.” Smitty looked around, then lowered his voice. “Listen. I may have a solution for you. Just promise you’ll hear me out and not shoot it down.”
I raised an eyebrow. God, he wasn’t going to suggest we have sex, was he? Because he was a nice guy, and he was hot, but I wasn’t fucking a teammate. Not even if it was a charity fuck or a sympathy fuck. Especially not if it was like that.
“Hear me out?” he asked.
I nodded mutely.
“Okay. So. If I were you? I’d hire someone.”
“Hire—” I blinked. “Like a prostitute?” The word came out as a squeak.
“An escort, but…” He half-shrugged. “Trust me, you wouldn’t be the only one who uses them. Hell, I use them.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “Hey, sometimes I just want to get laid without playing all the games on Tinder or…” He gestured at the bar. “And the buddy who introduced me to them—that’s how he lost his virginity.”
“Seriously?”
“Mmhmm. I mean, he’d been with women, but in his thirties, he started realizing maybe he was actually gay. He was embarrassed to try being with a man for the first time, so he figured if he paid someone, they’d at least be discreet, you know?”
“Oh. And it’s…” I swallowed. “Is that even safe?”
“Yep. Background checks, the whole works.” Smitty held out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I hesitated.
He huffed and wiggled his fingers. “Just give it to me. I’ll find the app for you. What you do with it is none of my business.”
Still dubious, I unlocked my phone and handed it over. He tapped a few things on the screen, then handed it back. There was a new icon for an app that was downloading.
I was suddenly irrationally certain someone would walk by and see the little icon, so I stuffed my phone in my pocket. “Isn’t that, um, illegal?”
“It can be.” He didn’t sound worried. “But the app is totally legal because it’s an escort service. You’re paying for their company, not for sex.”
“Oh. Huh.”
“And like I said, they do background checks, so it can take like twenty-four hours for you to be able to actually meet someone, but they’re usually way faster than that. And they’re emphatic that if someone harasses or assaults one of their guys, they’ll report it to the authorities. So they have to be operating on the up and up, you know?”
Chewing my lip, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll give it a look. Um. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He clapped my shoulder and nudged me back toward the bar. “Now come on. You’ve got a goal to celebrate.”
That brought my spirits back to life. I still wasn’t sure about this whole escort service thing, and I felt weird just having the app on my phone, but I’d worry about that later.
For now, Smitty was right.
I had a goal to celebrate.
Lying awake in a Houston hotel, I thumbed the edge of my phone.
Wright was asleep on the other bed. Nothing short of Armageddon would wake him up, so I didn’t worry too much about my phone glowing or an app making noise, but I still didn’t turn on the screen.
The app Smitty had downloaded for me last night was burning a hole in my phone case. I’d been itching for a minute to actually look at it, but I hadn’t had time. The party had gone late. I’d needed to sleep. Then I’d overslept and had to rush out so I didn’t miss my flight, and after that, I hadn’t had enough privacy to open up the app.
Not until now.
I glanced at Wright again. He was out cold. Half an hour ago, he’d been FaceTiming with his boyfriend, and just thinking about that gave me a little pang of envy. They were so adorable together. They were both hot as hell, especially Luca, but they were just so damn cute and ridiculously in love.
I wanted that. I wanted someone to make me feel whatever it was that always left Wright smiling like that long after they’d hung up.
And how the hell am I going to get to that level when I’ve never even touched a guy?
Cringing, I sighed into the stillness of our room. I was probably overthinking it. Sex wasn’t everything. There had to be a guy out there somewhere who was willing to overlook my lack of experience.
The problem was that I couldn’t get past it. I was so embarrassed and felt so ridiculous, still being a virgin.
I turned my phone over and over in my hand. Smitty had offered up a solution. I had no idea how I felt about it, but I did know how I felt about being stuck in virgin purgatory.
