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And smart as fuck.
Way too damn smart for the likes of me.
“Huh. Smart and hot. Now there’s a wicked combination.”
My heads snaps around so fast that I nearly give myself whiplash. “What the hell did you just say?
He pops a brow before studying my expression. “I said that the girl is both smart and hot. It’s not like I’d say it to Mav. He’d probably give me a beatdown.”
There’s noprobablyabout it.
Definite beatdown.
He’d give any guy who looked sideways at his sister a beating. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I’d gladly jump into the fray to help dissuade anyfurther interest as well.
Luckily, most of the guys on the team have gotten the memo without Mav having to crack too many skulls together. It was a real pleasure to watch.
“Well, I don’t wanna hear it either,” I grumble. “She’s practically like a sister to me.”
A smirk simmers around Ford’s lips as we grind to a halt outside his door. “Is that so? It’s all sisterly feelings on your part?”
Apparently, those comments are sus.
“Yeah, that’s right.” With a frown, I dig in a little deeper. “I’ve known her since we were kids. We’re neighbors, and our families have been good friends for years.”
A sly look settles on his face.
It’s tempting to punch it right off.
“Then you wouldn’t have a problem if I asked her out, right?”
I straighten like someone just rammed a two by four up my ass and scowl. “The fuck you say?”
A shit-eating grin overtakes his expression as he wraps his fingers around the silver handle and shoves the door open. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
The asshole doesn’t even bother to wait for a response as he strolls into the apartment as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, leaving me to stand alone in the hallway, narrowed gaze pinned to his back.
Boisterous voices spill out from inside.
“You gonna get your ass in here or what?” Riggs asks, raising a green bottle of beer to his lips and taking a long pull.
With a grunt, I stalk into the entryway before slamming the door shut. Almost all of the senior guys are squeezed into the three-bedroom apartment. A few are standing around and drinking while others have settled on the couch and chair. They’re focused on an intense game of NHL being played out on the high-def big screen television that takes up most of the far wall.
“Help yourself to a cold one,” Colby adds as he does the same. “After that practice, you deserve it, man.”
Even though he only walked in minutes before I did, there’s a girl tucked under each arm. I almost shake my head at how quickly he works. Over the years, his nickname as the baby-faced assassin has been well earned. I’ve never seen a guy get so much pussy. He’s like the pied piper of it. Crazier still, girls leave his bed just as happy as they went to it. It’s like he’s able to cast a spell over them or something.
Must be the dimples.
I’ve seen plenty of guys get their asses chewed out by spurned chicks who were hoping for more than just a one-night stand.
Not Colby.
It’s almost like he’s able to convince them that a casual hookup was their idea, and he was just doing them a solid. I’ve watched the guy in action. The way he’s able to talk his way out of any situation is seriously impressive. I’ve whipped out my phone a time or two to take notes.
There’s only one thing that can take my mind off the mahogany-haired girl in the apartment next door, and that’s hockey.
More specifically, our new coach.
