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"No," she whispers. "He, um, he died two months ago."
Ah, baby.
As someone who lost both parents early, I know how awful it is. Unless my math is wrong, she's nineteen. Far too goddamn young to be out in the world without someone looking after her. From what I can recall, her mom ran off to London years ago.
"Briggs was a good coach," I say, my voice gruff with sympathy and regret. I should have tried to go see him instead of putting it off. "I imagine he was a hell of a father too. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks. He loved hockey…and you." She rolls her eyes when she says this, which makes me want to chuckle. I don't think she shares her dad's opinion of me.
"What's your seat number?" I ask.
"Why?"
"No reason," I lie.
I don't think she believes me. Her eyes come back to mine, rife with suspicion. She doesn't seem to like me very much. Which isn't surprising since women usually don't like me. But definitely problematic since I actually want this one to like me.
"Can we start over?"
"So you can offer to sign my boobs again? No thanks," she says, her nose wrinkling.
"I can't be blamed for that. Your tits are incredible," I say, and then, because I can't help it even though there's a little voice screeching a warning in the back of my head, I add, "Someday, you'll agree to let me sign them."
"You…you…ugh!" Laney growls, throwing her hands up.
See? Honesty definitely is not the best policy.
"I shouldn't have said that."
"You think?" She scowls at me.
Christ, she's cute. I quickly check her finger to make sure there isn't a ring on it. There isn't, thank God. Which means there's nothing stopping me from making her mine.
"Davies," Coach shouts across the ice. "Stop flirting and get your ass on the ice."
"You should go," Laney says, seemingly relieved to be done talking to me.
"Yeah, I should. But I'll see you soon, cutie pie."
"Ha. Not likely," she growls, her face scrunched up in annoyance. Somehow, even that turns me on. She's so damn pretty when she's flushed and spluttering mad at me. She givesme another dark scowl and then turns and stomps toward a petite, raven-haired girl waiting a few feet away.
I watch her go, grinning at the way her ass fills out those jeans.
"Davies!" Coach shouts again.
Shit.
I yank my gaze away from Laney and head toward Coach, hoping like hell I can convince him to do me a solid and make sure my girl wins this date. Because there's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with anyone who isn't her.
"Davies!" Coach yells acrossthe locker room. The second period is over, we're up by two, and I've been on my best behavior on the ice. I've only spent four minutes in the penalty box for the whole first two periods. He should be thrilled but he looks like he's pissed. Then again, he usually does. "You're up!"
"Oh, loverboy," Gray Larsen calls out, his voice pitched higher to imitate a woman like the Dirty Dancing song. "C'mere, loverboy."
Theo sashays toward him across the locker room, making kissing noises. The rest of the team laughs, sending catcalls and shit talk my way.
I flip them all off, not even mad. At least my date will be with Laney Briggs. God only knows who they'll end up spending a night with when it's their turns to fall on the sword.
"You know you're all taking a turn at thisWin a Dateshit too, right?" I ask, headed toward Coach.
