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Saffie scoffs. “Oh, they’ll believe it! They know all about you, Sexy.” Her tone is snarky, not the way girls usually let my nickname fall from their lips. I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
“Believe me, Briggsy. They don’t know the half of it.” I reach and dip my chopsticks into her other container, the one with orange chicken, and pluck a piece out. Flashing a dimple when she growls at me. “Easy, Saffron. Didn’t your ma ever tell you that sharing is caring?”
“She did, but I don’t play well with others.”
“That’s too bad. I play so nice.” I let the innuendo hang between us. And just as fast, I change the subject on her so that she doesn’t have time to get pissed off at me. “How’s ball going? You ready for the preseason?”
Saffron seems confused by my change in topic but goes with it.
“It’s good. The team is really supportive and welcoming, which, I’m not gonna lie, surprised me a bit. I know they miss Stella, but they haven’t made me feel bad about it.”
“Nothing to feel bad about. You didn’t knock her up.” I chuckle.
She looks up, startled. Her mouth forms a perfect O I would love to fill. “Is that what happened? Nobody has said that she wasn’t able to play this season.”
“It’s no secret. They’re just super protective. Chicago sends a veteran player to check on their drafts. My babysitter happened to have a thing for college-aged chicks.” I shrug and smile. “Can’t blame him.”
“Wow. So your, what? Mentor? Comes here to see you and hooks up with Stella and gets her pregnant? Some mentor,” Saffie says snidely.
“Nah, he’s good people. She’s living with him now in Chicago. Jason is happy as shit, and so is Stella,” I defend.
“Good for them.” It doesn’t sound like she really means it, but I don’t push her on it.
“You should be thanking him, really.”
“What? Why?” Her brows draw down in confusion.
“Well, had he not come here and got Stella all pregalicious, you wouldn’t be here now, and you wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting me.” I smile smugly and watch as her face melts into a bored, icy mask.
“Deny it all you want, Briggsy. I know you like me.”
“Don’t bet your hockey career on it, Sexton,” she says dryly.
Making Saffron Briggs admit she wants me just became a challenge I’d be crazy to ignore. She doesn’t want to let herself like me, and she for damn sure doesn’t want to want me. But she does. And it makes her inner ice queen pissy. I can see it in that wicked glimmer in her eyes, right before she rolls them. Game on, Baby. Game on.
Chapter 9
Levi
Six o’clock practice comes early as fuck, even when you manage to get to bed before midnight. With a groan, I strip down and start dressing for the ice. Half-asleep, I plop down on the bench and chug my protein shake willing myself to wake up.
“Morning, Sexy,” Murph says as he walks the locker room all chipper. He’s the most morningest morning person I’ve ever met in my life. Been here since four in the gym, I’d bet money on it.
I manage a grunt and go back to drinking.
“Cubbie said Saffron was up in your room last night. You guys smash?” His lips twist in a bow-chicka-wow-wow smirk.
“Nah, bro. She’s not ready for Sexy,” I joke, although it’s no lie.
He scoffs, “more like Sexy ain’t ready.”
Now that’s no lie. Saffie is no Nora. She’s commitment and monogamy and all that other shit I want nothing to do with. The only things I’m committed to are hockey, my bed and my mama. “You’re right about that.”
“Plus, doesn’t she have a boyfriend back at her old school?” He lays his gear out on the ground, making sure he has everything.
“Because I give a shit about that? He’s not my fucking boyfriend.” I don’t make a habit of going after girls with boyfriends, but I don’t make a habit of not going after them if they’re willing. Again, I’m not the one in the relationship.
“True. True. She does, though.”
