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“Yeah, that sounds good, Dad.” I push my hand out to shoo him away, and then he’s gone, back to coaching his team.
I tug on Taylor’s arm to move her toward our seats.
“You have an admirer,” she informs me.
I glance over at the bench to see Preston staring at me. Hard. His gaze is intense, his deep blue eyes fixed on me. He winks. Why did he have to do that? I refuse to return his gesture, or even acknowledge him. Last night, I was rude and said whatever had come to mind. It was my way of keeping him at a distance.
A guy like Preston will be the death of me. I have no room in my life for players—both on and off the court. Or in Preston’s case, the ice. But I can’t help feeling something for him. He didn’t have to offer for me to meet his mom. Preston doesn’t owe me a damn thing. Maybe I can be a little bit nicer without breaking the rules.
“The way he’s looking at you is giving me chills,” Taylor says, entranced by Preston. “What I wouldn’t give to have someone look at me like that.”
She’s not wrong about him. When Preston looks at me, he undresses me with his eyes. My skin pricks with tiny bumps, which spread down my arms. He glares at me like a piece of meat. Like he’s a starved animal, and he wants to sink his teeth into me.
But there’s something else about his demeanor. I interest him. Other guys have given me the same look in the past. I’ve ignored them no problem. So, why can’t I do the same with Preston? Somehow, he has crawled under my skin, and I allow it. Even though I shouldn’t give him another thought.
He removes his helmet. His hair sticks up in little spikes, protruding up in different directions from the sweat. So many dirty thoughts run through my mind. I can’t stop them once they start.
He knows he has me. It’s not just his looks that hold my attention. Preston plays with such grace for someone his size. The way he moved his hips was like a dance routine I memorized with each glide of his skates.
Practice ends with my father telling the players to hit the showers, and me still drooling over Preston. Taylor does the same. She hasn’t stopped gawking at the Drake Donovan for the last five minutes. Tall and muscular, Drake has short dark hair and a body so big and toned he makes you want to climb him. Drake is worth looking at. But no one compares to Preston.
Damn him.
“Where do you want to eat?” Taylor rubs her stomach. “I worked up an appetite watching these hockey hotties.”
“I bet that’s not the only appetite you worked up,” I deadpan. “Don’t think I missed you obsessively watching Drake. I don’t blame you. I was doing the same to Preston.”
Her eyes widen, and she clears her throat, making a strange movement with her head to indicate someone is behind me. When I turn around, I come face-to-face with Preston. Here, I thought all of the players were in the locker room.
I have nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
A wicked smirk turns up the right side of his mouth. An adorable dimple creases his cheek.
Fucking hell.
Chapter Five
Preston
All through practice I couldn’t get Bex out of my head. Every time I moved, it was as if she was there, watching me. Maybe I imagined her blue eyes following me. Or maybe I wasn’t crazy at all. Because when she spins around to face the ice, her eyes widen at the sight of me.
I smirk. “Funny meeting you here.”
Speechless, she opens her mouth but nothing comes out. I overheard her conversation with her friend, catching her in the act. At least now I know she wants me. Maybe she won’t be as much of a challenge as I thought.
In a navy-and-white Strickland Senators basketball uniform and Chucks, Bex has never looked hotter. Even though I wish it were my jersey she has on. And nothing else.
“Did you watch me play?”
Of course, she did.
Bex nods. “Uh-huh. My dad asked me to stay behind.”
“Parker, stop bothering my daughter,” Coach Bryant yells. “Time to hit the showers.” He claps his hands together. “Let’s go.”
Bex lets out a sigh of relief. “Saved by the bell.”
“For now.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Wait for me. Right here.”
“And why would I do that?”
Sassy as ever, she drives me crazy with her mouth. Fuck, I love it. Way too much.
“Do you know how to skate?”
She snorts. “My dad is a hockey coach. I grew up at a rink. Are you serious?”
I shrug, unaffected. “Hey, you never know. You could be good on your feet and horrible on skates. My older brother can’t skate to save his life, even with my dad teaching him.”
