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She was stunning with her blonde hair pulled back off her face, exposing the delicate column of her throat, and she had on a simple black dress that hugged her body as it swished just above her knees. The muscle in my jaw ticked as I looked her over.
Her outfit haddatewritten all over it, and my chest tightened painfully.
I fought back a growl. “What are you doing, Killer? Not coming to our exhibition game?”
She startled, her gaze snapping to mine. “Um, no. I’ve got plans.”
“What sort of plans?” I knew I didn’t have the right to grill her. I fucking knew I’d given that up, but damn if I didn’t want to drag her back into my room and lock her in.
Piper’s foot tapped on the floor, and she placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve got a date. You know the Hunt isn’t going to win itself.”
Fuck. I curled my fingers into a fist and bit back my words, unsure if I was going to give her shit or fucking beg her not to go.
I swallowed hard, getting myself together. “You look good, Piper.”
Her eyes widened, then looked down. Not the response she expected. I wanted to run my thumb over the pink flush of her cheeks and tip her head back to look at me.
The doorbell rang, breaking the moment, and I swung it open.
A lean fucker stood in front of me, wearing dress pants and a crisp white shirt. He pushed his glasses up his nose, getting a better look at me. Was this what she wanted now? Some kind of intellectual hipster?
He cleared his throat. “Ah, is Piper here?”
“Who are you?” So much for staying out of her way.
He tried to look behind me, raising his voice. “I’m here to pick her up. She knows I’m coming.”
“I didn’t ask what you were doing. I asked who you are.” I blocked the doorframe, effectively hiding Piper, but she pushed under my arm and smiled at him.
“Ignore him. He’s just being the overprotective brother’s best friend.” Sharp pain pierced my chest, and she visibly flinched before continuing. “He’s harmless.”
She walked toward his car, a shiny black BMW, and glanced back. “Don’t wait up.”
Fuck.My blood heated in my veins and blocked out the sounds around me. I held myself still, knowing if I took a step forward, I’d drag her back inside. I watched them leave, not going back into the house until they’d turned the corner. I closed the door softly, then turned, slamming my fist into a wall and splitting my knuckles. The sting was a small relief to the pang deep in my chest and the voice at the back of my head screaming at me. My heart battered my ribs, pain radiating outward, and I choked it down. She wasn’t mine to protect, and I had no one to blame but myself. I rested my head against the wall taking deep breaths until my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Jax: Hurry the fuck up.
* * *
My heart pounded in my chest when I stepped onto the ice for my shift. I could feel the cool air rushing past my face as I tried to clear my mind and focus on the game. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake the image of her in that tight black dress.
The startng forward caught the pass that I should’ve intercepted and booked it down the ice. My legs burned with the effort to catch up to him, but he easily deked the goalie, shooting the puck into the top right corner for the goal.
Fuck. I could hear my coach yelling from our bench, but all I saw was red as I powered through my strides, chasing down the player with the puck. He groaned when I slammed him into the glass, but the hit was clean.
He pushed me off him and snarled. “You’re playing like a rookie out here. My mom could get past you.”
I gave him a cocky smile, knowing exactly what would help me burn off the tension pulling me apart. “Ah, come on. Your mom’s more likely to beg me to stay.”
His face reddened, and he pushed off the wall. “I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass.” He threw down his gloves, ready to come at me, but I landed the first punch directly into his ear, one of the only places unprotected by a helmet. He swayed on his feet, and I came at him again, leveling him with an uppercut. Distantly, I heard whistles and shouting, but I didn’t stop. He slipped, landing hard on his knees, and I went to hit him again, but a strong arm caught mine mid-throw.
“Let him up, Lucas. This isn’t you.” River spoke calmly, no judgment in his warning.
I huffed out a breath and straightened. He was right. I didn’t hit someone when they were down. Hell, I didn’t get pissed on the ice. Ever. I was a defenseman but not an enforcer.
A ref caught me around the stomach, guiding me backward toward the penalty box like a toddler. I let him maneuver me until I was almost there. “Alright, alright. I’m good.”
He looked at me and cocked a brow.“You’re not normally like that out here. Don’t make a habit of it.”
