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Misty must have clued him in on the timeline. I look around, making sure the locker room is empty before answering. Seeing it’s empty, I turn back and—
That’s when his fist plows into my face.
My head snaps back, and I gape at him. “What the fuck, man! A sucker-punch?”
Nichols can hit. I’ve seen him take a guy off his skates.
But as hard as he hits, I can take harder.
I have.
“Guess you shoulda seen that one cominga year away.” He rolls his shoulders, arms loose, weight shifting from skate to skate. “Bet you’ll see this one, though.”
Oh, I do. And I’m already cocked. “Let’s go.”
Next thing, we’ve got each other by the shirts and fists are flying as we grapple on the rubber floor.
He clips my jaw, and I growl, eyes narrowing as I lose my sense of humor about whatever the fuck is going on. I grab his arm mid-swing and shove it back so I can meet his eyes.
“I don’t… know… what crawled up your ass—”
“You did!” he barks back, fighting to get to me. “When youcheated… on my girl’s sister.”
The accusation lands harder than the sucker-punch, knocking me back.
Or no. That’s Rux and Vassar dragging me off him while Coach blows into the locker room, bellowing for us to break it up.
“What the hell’s the matter with you two?” he demands, face red, hair standing up.
“Nothing,” Nichols grunts as we both get to our feet. “Sorry, Coach. Accident.”
“We tripped,” I mutter.
I move to slap his arm for good measure but realize my teammates still have my arms pinned.
“That’s what I thought. No way would two of my players be dumb enough to get into a scrap…in my house.”
“Not these guys,” Rux says, clapping me on the shoulder. Hard.
“No way,” Vassar adds as Coach nods, heading back to the ice. “Not on this team.”
I grit my teeth, shrugging my teammates off. “He started it.”
Vassar raises a brow, giving me the OG resting prick face. “Really?”
Rux gives up a deep sigh. “Girls, I don’t give a shit who started it.” His voice deepens to this-is-your-captain level. “Get the fuck on the ice. Now.”
* * *
Forty minutes later,I’m dripping sweat as I skate up to Nichols. The look he gives me says he’s ready to go again.
Holding up my gloves, I shake my head.
“I didn’t cheat.”
His scowl deepens.
“Bullshit. I saw you.” The way he says it, with total confidence, makes no sense. Until he adds, “Tampa. The hotel bar.”
