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I sit up, and he comes around.
“This isn’t a you problem,” I say.
“It’s a team problem if you have issues with my goalie.”
It’s always about the fucking goalie. I shake my head and scowl, wiping at my face again. But I’m done—I don’t need a lecture from the captain about how to treat a teammate. I can be cordial. After all, I’ve beencordialfor years. I grab my water bottle and head for the door. We don’t have practice today, although getting on the ice is appealing. Just shooting some pucks, working on my trick shots.
We’ve got an away game tomorrow in California, which means an early practice before we get on the plane. And myissueisn’t the fact that he’s another goalie fucking up my life. It’s that when I see his face, I picture him fucking Aurora. And it pisses me off more than I can possibly describe.
“Hey,” Church calls. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
I wave him off without looking back.
On the ice are a bunch of kids chasing after a puck. I suppress my groan and head to the locker room, my hopes of getting out there dashed.
After a shower and change of clothes, I head back to my condo. I bought it in the same building as Jacob because I didn’t like the idea of being alone in a new city. Call me a whiny baby or whatever, but I like being social. I like knowing I’ve got friends close by.
Which should mean I’d want to do the teammate bonding shit, right?
Negative.
The doorman smiles at me on approach. “Mr. Whiteshaw. Good day.”
“Nice to see you, Jerry,” I greet him on my way through. “Excellent Denver morning, isn’t it?” It’s brisk, a little rainy. I’m hoping for snow,still, but no one else seems on board with that.
He murmurs his polite agreement.
I chuckle. He’s full of shit. It’s a terrible morning to be stuck opening the door for people. He’s wearing a long coat that goes down to his knees, black gloves, a hat. He’s more prepared for the weather than I am, I’ll give him that.
I jog up the steps into the lobby and past the reception desk, to the wide hall of elevators around the corner. I silently thank Jacob every time Jerry runs interception with the puck bunnies who try to overstay their welcome.
I hit theupbutton once, twice. Four times, just for the hell of it.
When the elevator chimes, I make a beeline for the opening door—and nearly crash into someone.
“Sor—”
It’s Aurora. The apology freezes on my lips as soon as I register her. First the hair, then her eyes. I stop myself from getting out of her way. Instead, I step forward and block the elevator doors.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Move.”
“Nah.” I crowd her backward until the doors close, then hit the button for my floor. Then I focus all my attention back on her.
Her auburn hair, that deep russet color, is pulled up in a bun on top of her head. Do you know how much trauma that color hair gives me? Every time I caught a flash of it in the stands. Hell, even on campus in college. Or out walking the streets of New York. I’d see it andboom, be transported back to our hometown.
She’s wearing an oversized white Titans sweatshirt, the T logo with the dark-blue capital T over mint-green waves drawing my eyes to her tits. Black leggings, white sneakers. I understand why she’s wearing my hockey team’s logo, but I fucking hate it.
Her hand is planted on her hip. Her nails are mint green. The ring on her finger is ostentatious. I hate it immediately.
“Were you visiting someone?” I question.
I want to reach out and wrap my hand around her neck again, feel her pulse flutter against my fingers. She tips her head back as I come closer. Her brows furrow when I actually make contact, holding her throat lightly. She swallows against my palm.
The elevator stops, the doors opening. I can’t move away, can’t let go of her. It would be so easy to squeeze. She’s pressed to the wall. Her hand isn’t on her hip anymore—she’s gripping the railing at her back with both hands.
“Answer the question,” I whisper. I tug at the sweatshirt, revealing the bite mark. It’s a nice bruise now, but definitely a bite. How did she explain that to her fiancé?
“I—” She wets her lips. “I live here, you jackass.”
