Page 5 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

Cara Oliver is going to change my life. Not because she's a reporter, but because she's important. I feel it in my bones.

"What did you tell him?" I ask Callie, curious as hell how much Corey knows about our new reporter. Whatever he knows, I need to know. This may be a game to him, but it isn't one he's going to win.

Callie's heavy sigh sends static down the line. "I told him the same thing I'm going to tell you," she says. "I'm not Google or a personnel record. If you want to know anything about her, ask her."

Well, that's fair enough. Except I don't want to play fair.

"Remember that time you needed help moving out of your apartment at the last minute?" I ask, striding out of the bathroom into my room. I sprawl across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Afternoon light filters in through the windows, sending dust motes hovering through the air. "And remember who dropped everything to come haul furniture down three flights of stairs for you, no questions asked?"

"Are you blackmailing me, Phoenix?" Callie asks.

"If that's what you want to call it," I say, grinning because I know she isn't mad about it. Callie and I understand each other. She schedules the interviews that make me look good. In exchange, I make the team look good. It's a win-win. "I prefer to think of it as calling in a favor."

She's silent for a moment and then laughs through a groan. "You are so lucky I like you better than Corey," she grumbles. "Fine. She works at Houston Sports Nation. We talked for a few minutes when she came in to get her press badge. She grew up in Houston, went to a fancy school on the East Coast, and she knows her shit when it comes to hockey. Her dad drafted for a season."

"Huh. Who is her dad?"

"Again, not Google."

"Fine. Is that all you've got?"

"Did you want her date of birth, star sign, and social security number?" Callie asks sarcastically. "We talked for five minutes, Phoenix. It's not like I grilled her about her entire life's history. I'm busy. If you want to know more, ask her."

"Fine."

"Fine."

I chuckle at her tone. "You're cranky today."

"You and Corey are both on my phone, annoying the hell out of me about the new reporter. Of course I'm cranky," Callie retorts. "Why are you both so interested, anyway?"

"We're going to date."

"What the…" Callie trails off, her shock evident. "You, Corey, and the reporter are going to date?"

"What? Fuck no," I growl, scowling. "Corey isn't going anywhere near her."

"That is not what you just said."

"I didn't say anything about Corey."

"Uh, I asked why you and Corey are so interested in her, and you said we're going to date," Callie says.

"Well, I didn't mean him. He can fuck a cactus." Hell no, he isn't dating Cara. I've never cockblocked a teammate unless they were too drunk to know what the fuck they were doing, but I will cockblock the hell out of him. His dick isn't going anywhere near Cara. Absolutely not.

"Don't give him any ideas," Callie says dryly, making me snort. "Are we done here? I have things to do."

"Yeah, we're done." I pause. "Wait. You said she works at Houston Sports Nation?"

"Yes…"

"Thanks."

"I would ask why you want to know, but you know what? I don't even care. Just know, if you fuck up, she's the one who gets to write about it," Callie says, sounding pleased by the prospect. "And since you're on my phone asking about her instead of talking to her, I'm guessing that's because she won't make you sound amazing. Do with that knowledge what you will."

"I—" That's as far as I get before she hangs up on me. I chuckle and drop the phone to the bed beside me, my mind immediately locking onto the notes Cara wrote about me today—the ones that said I'm arrogant and full of shit because I called her beautiful.

I wasn't just feeding her a line of bullshit, though. She's gorgeous. The entire time she was pressed up against me, I was praying she wouldn't feel my cock. The hard bastard was losing circulation in my jock.