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Who was I and why had the feminism left my body the moment I laid eyes on him?
“I’m sure hockey means a lot to you, and to many other people, too,” I said. “But that doesn’t change the facts.”
He edged closer to me, and I forced my feet to stay planted. “Have you ever been to a game? It’s a yes or no question.”
I tipped my chin up a notch, hoping I looked defiant. “Yes, I’ve been to a hockey game.”
“A pro one?”
I’d been opposed to contact sports for more than a decade now, and attending a game was akin to supporting them, so…
“No,” I admitted.
“Come to a game as my guest,” he said.
I balked. “Why, so your entire team can berate me along with you? I’ll pass.”
“I don’t—”
“Look, it’s been a long day,” I said, cutting him off. “I just want to go inside.”
He took a step back. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“Have a nice run,” I said, only half-sincere. “Or night out, whatever it is you’re doing.”
He arched his brows, amused. “I don’t go out in running shorts with no shirt on.”
“Of course not. That would be arrogant.”
I held his gaze, unwilling to back down.
“Enjoy your pizza, Eleanor.”
I opened the door and went inside, closing it harder than necessary.
Why was I so attracted to that asshole? And why did I have to live next door to him? I was probably in for lots of headboard banging against the wall when he brought women home.
I put my pizza box on the kitchen counter, slipped out of my heels and went to the bedroom to change into comfortable clothes, making sure my blinds were all completely closed.
Ford Barrett would never get another look at the inside of my apartment. Next time we saw each other, I planned to ignore him completely. No eye contact whatsoever.
And absolutely no staring at his chest. Or his abs. Next time, I’d be ambivalent, even if he broke out that broody scowl again.
CHAPTERFIVE
Ford
“See you assholes in the morning,”I said as I exited the bus that had taken us from the airport back to the arena.
Thank fuck that hellish road trip was over. After dropping our first two away games, we were now 0–3. We were scheduled to fly out of Vancouver late this morning, but our plane had mechanical problems and it took several hours to get another one. So we were just getting home at 9:45 p.m., and we had practice in the morning.
I clearly wasn’t inspiring my team. My role as captain was to lead and inspire, and we were playing like a steaming pile of shit. I was disgusted, with myself and everyone else.
“Ford,” a voice called from behind me.
I stopped and turned to see Dom hustling over.
“What?” I said.
