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“Sorry,” I tell the beefy blond guy.

“All good.” His eyes then widen in appreciation. “Hi there.”

“Hey,” I say politely, then face forward again.

I jerk when I feel a tiny tap on my shoulder. I glance over again.

“You ladies have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Just going to meet our teammates.” I keep my gaze straight ahead and will the line to move faster. I can already tell this is not going to go in the direction he wants.

“Teammates? You mean the Briar dudes? You play too?”

“Yep.”

A slimy grin spreads across his face as he moves a bit closer. “That’s hot. I love female athletes.”

I try to shuffle faster to get away from him. He’s invading my personal space now and I don’t like it.

Cami twists to look at me, lifting a brow as if to ask if I need help. I give a slight shake of my head.

“I really mean that,” he tells me, as if I care whether or not he does.

“Cool.” Relief hits me as we reach the bottom row. “Well, see you around,” I say, and anyone capable of picking up on social cues would know I don’t mean it.

This guy is not capable. “I’m looking forward to it,” he drawls, winking at me.

Case texts as we reach the lobby of the rink.

CASE:

We’re all hitting up a club downtown later. Some place called Smooth Moves. You ladies down?

I check with the girls, and they all nod.

Back at the hotel, Cami and I dress for a night out. My only option is the little black dress I wore last night. When Cami’s in the bathroom, though, I hastily examine the fabric to make sure I didn’t leak all the way through it when Ryder was fingering me at the opera.

A shiver runs through me. I honestly don’t think I will ever, ever get enough of him. Not the sex, which only keeps getting better. But the company’s growing on me too. Every prickly, grumpy part of him.

My teammates are all ready to go when my phone rings. I check the screen and wave Cami through the door.

“It’s my brother,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you guys in the lobby.”

“Undefeated,” Wyatt crows when I answer the call. “I just heard.”

“Yeah, the season’s going really well.”

“You think you’ll make it to the championship?”

“I mean, it’s still super early. There’s like twenty more games to go. But I hope so.” I bite my lip to stop the excitement, because I told myself not to get my hopes up, but I can’t help sharing the potential news with him. “One of the assistant coaches from Team USA is here this weekend. He stopped me in the hotel yesterday and told me I don’t have anything to worry about. Basically implied I’d make the final roster.”

“Fuck yeah. I told you.” Wyatt laughs. “Emma might be a total whack job, but her dad’s clearly got a good head on his shoulders.”

“One would hope. Anyway, I gotta bounce. We’re going out tonight with the men’s team to celebrate both wins.”

“All right, cool. Just wanted to say congrats. Love you, Stan.”

“Love you too.”

I tuck my phone in my purse and zip up my jacket on my way to the elevator bank. I press the down button, then wait until the doors swing open with a chime. I’m stepping into the car when someone says, “Hold the door.”

My stomach sinks when the blond guy from the rink follows me inside.

Fuck.

Of all the people to run into.

“You again!” he says, his face brightening.

“Yep.” I plaster my back to the wall, hoping my body language is obvious enough.

But he of no personal space doesn’t receive the memo. He stands directly beside me so that our arms are almost touching. Then he abruptly angles himself so I’m effectively trapped against the wall.

“I’m Nathan.”

I glance at the lights over the doors. I’ve already pressed the button for the lobby, but for some reason the elevator is still not moving.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” he teases, chuckling.

I jam my finger on the close door button, even though the doors are already closed. Maybe that will speed up the process.

“I’m not scared,” I say lightly. “Just in a hurry. I have somewhere to be.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because I have nowhere to be.” A lecherous smile appears. He even licks the corner of his mouth, which I suspect is his attempt at looking sexy. It’s not working. “Why don’t I tag along with you?”

“Sorry, it’s a Briar hockey thing. Just for our teams.”

“That’s a shame.” He’s unfazed. “Maybe we can meet up after?”

“Oh, I don’t know when it’ll be done,” I reply, when deep down I want nothing more than to say, No, we cannot and will not meet up after. Ever.

But saying no to men isn’t always an easy task. I’d love to be direct. Confrontational. Look him right in the eye and say NO.

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