Page 7 of Puck Off, She’s Mine

This is different.

Cara wants nothing. She isn't dressing to impress, trying to get in good with me, or throwing out compliments like her future depends on it. She hasn't blown smoke up my ass a single time. Frankly, I don't think she gives a shit about me at all. She just wants to do her job, the same way I do. And she isn't afraid to talk a little shit along the way.

That's fascinating to me.

People have been in my face, singing my praises since I was a kid. Not Cara. I think she'd prefer if she never had to see me again. Yeah, I'm hooked.

"You ready to admit defeat yet?" I ask, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, just so I can touch her. I want her to get used to me being in her space. I want her thinking about my hands on her, my body against hers. I'll use whatever tools I have at my disposal to wear her down and make her crave me.

Is it fair? Probably not, but neither is that dress she's wearing. It should be on my bedroom floor.

She startles, her laughter dying. Those wide hazel eyes lock with mine. "We're not dating," she says. "I'm here to cover the team, and that's it. I mean it, Phoenix."

"Liar," I murmur.

"You've never heard the word no before, have you?"

"Is that the one that means 'fuck off, you weirdo'?"

"Uh, that's one definition," she says, slightly startled.

"Then I've definitely heard it before," I mutter. "I'm just not interested in hearing it this time."

Her lips twitch like she wants to smile before she manages to contain it. "Too bad. Unless you're the news, I'm not interested." She shoves the piñata against my chest hard enough to knock me off balance. "Don't send anything else to my office."

I catch myself, glancing up just in time to see her storming off, her ass swaying hypnotically. I groan, biting my lip. Fucking hell. I've never wanted to sink my teeth into something more than that perfect ass. But apparently, the only way that's going to happen is if I'm the news.

Huh.

I pause, considering the possibility. Maybe that's exactly what I need to do—turn myself into the news. If she thinks there's a story here, she'll have no choice but to deal with me. And if she's in my orbit, I'll have every chance I need to convince her that she wants to date me.

"Game on, gorgeous," I mouth when she glances over her shoulder at me. Her brows furrow like she's trying to make out what I said, but she either decides she doesn't care or that she doesn't want to know because she gives her head a stern shake and then scurries out.

I watch her go, trying to figure out what kind of news I'm turning myself into. Whatever it is, it needs to be juicy enough to hook her, but not bad enough to send her running. Unfortunately, I may be the most boring motherfucker on this team. I don't drink, party, date, or do much aside from practice, go to games, and take my ass home where I belong. Which means I'm going to have to dig deep…or make shit up.

"If you aren't sharing whatever is in that, I'm going to be pissed about it," Liam says, eyeing the piñata as he skates by.

I glance down at it and then at him. "It contains my hopes and dreams."

He cocks his head to the side like he's trying to decide if I'm serious or not, and then he grins. "Cool. So…we're bashing the hell out of it after practice, right?"

"Knock yourself out," I say, tossing it to him. "I have gossip to start and rumors to spread."

Liam just looks at me like I've lost my goddamn mind, which…fair. Maybe I have. Maybe.

"Good luck with that," he finally says, chuckling to himself as he skates off with the piñata lofted over his head like a trophy.

I follow behind more slowly, my mind still spinning through the possibilities. What kind of story is juicy enough to keep her coming back?

Chapter Three

Cara

No news is good news…unless you're a reporter obsessing over the hockey player who has gone radio silent. It's weird. For a full week, I don't hear a single peep out of Phoenix. When I stop by the arena for interviews two days before their game, I don't even run into him.

Unfortunately, I do run into Corey.

As soon as I finish grilling Harrison, I turn around to find him lingering at the end of the long, dimly lit hall, as if he's been waiting for me. I briefly consider going the opposite direction, but quickly decide I'm not going to run from anyone. Screw that.