Page 9 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

It’s my turn to skate, and I take some deep breaths to calm down. The adrenaline coursing through my veins can help me go faster—but it can also make me careless. It would be mortifying to lose an edge and wipe out in front of this crowd. I stand at the blue line until I get the signal to start. As I take my first strides and start to gather speed, I hear Randi and Sophie screaming for me, and it kicks me into a higher gear. It’s pure freedom, circling the rink along the boards. It’s the same feeling I have while running through the woods as my wolf. My blades dig into the ice, and the cadence of the swooshes soon matches the beat of my heart. I lean into the curves, staying as close to the cones marking the course as possible to shave every last millisecond off my time. In the end, I’m crowned the winner with the fastest time by more than a second.

After the race, I skate past Fessel, the runner-up, and say, “The all-you-can-eat lobster buffet we get really helps. All that butter keeps the joints lubricated, you know.”

I wink at Sophie as I skate by on my victory lap with my stick held high. Randi’s eyes widen and she glances between me and Sophie, a grin slowly spreading across her face. Whatever she’s thinking, she’s got the right idea. But Sophie and I don’t need a matchmaker. Though after seeing her with my name on her back, I wouldn’t say no to a hookup. And we can handle hooking up on our own. But that’s all it can be. A hookup, a fling.

I’m not made for relationships.

* * *

Normally we aren’t hanging out in the bar the night before a big game, but that’s what most of us are doing tonight. We’re at a high table, and I have my arm resting along the back of Randi’s stool. I’m sticking to soda water with lime tonight, but Sophie and Randi both have margaritas. If they’re drinking, there’s no way I am. I feel like it’s my responsibility to remain alert and keep them safe. I know I’m probably overreacting, and if it was just a Devil Birds party, I know I could let loose. But I don’t know these people, so I’m not risking it.

Randi’s telling us a story about working in New Zealand when she stops mid-sentence and sucks in a breath. I glance across the room and do a double-take. Mac’s striding through the bar, and he’s laser-focused on Randi. I hurriedly remove my arm from the back of her stool because I’m pretty sure Mac is ready to rip it off. Hard to hold a hockey stick with only one arm.

Suddenly, Mac’s at our table. Randi whispers his name, and they’re kissing like he’s just come back from war. When they finally break apart, Randi stands from her stool. Without a word to anyone, or even a glance, Mac plows like a speedboat through the crowd, pulling Randi in his wake.

Daphne yells out “Yes!” in the stunned silence, and then everyone laughs and starts chattering.

Sophie and I turn to each other, wide-eyed.

“Are you sharing a room with Randi?” I ask. Because if she is, she’s homeless now.

She shakes her head. “No, thank goodness. Walking in on them once was more than enough.”

We burst out laughing, and when I hear Sophie’s laugh is a mix of a chuckle and a wheeze, it only makes me laugh harder. She leans into my side, and I look down at her. She’s looking up at me, and our lips are inches apart. Her breath catches. I don’t know if I move, she moves, or we meet in the middle, but we’re kissing and it’s even better than New Year’s because now I know how soft her lips are and how sweet she tastes. I could kiss her all night long, but I remember we’re in a bar full of people we know from home and players from the other teams. Shit, we have to work together for the next two months.

Reluctantly, I pull back from the kiss. Blue eyes look up at me with a mixture of shock and lust. No doubt she sees the same in my hazel eyes. How can something that feels so good be such a bad idea?

“We shouldn’t do that,” she whispers.

I quirk up a corner of my mouth in a half-hearted grin. She’s right. I agree with her completely. And I hate that. “I know. But it’s fun.”

The smile she gives me is glorious, and it’s like I’ve been punched in the solar plexus.

Then the smile turns into a yawn, and an adorable flush creeps up her neck as she covers her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m good with whisky, but fruity drinks like margaritas make me tipsy and sleepy.”

I smile. “Don’t apologize. I should turn in too. I know it’s not a game that affects the standings tomorrow, but I still want to win. Ready to go upstairs?”

Those words are meant innocently, but the second they pass my lips, my mind flashes to all the things we can do upstairs. Not gonna happen. First of all, she’s tipsy. I don’t mess with tipsy girls. Second, we need to work together, and I don’t think getting physical will make that any easier. Finally, I think I could like her. She can be prickly, and I don’t think it was all because of the tea. But I get her. We probably have a lot in common. Maybe. Who knows? Maybe I’m just projecting. Whatever’s going on, it would suck to torpedo things by rushing into something physical too quickly.

All the same, her blue eyes flash with an awareness that makes me think her mind is in the same place mine is. But, just like me, she’s going to ignore it. For now.

I get up and grab Sophie’s hand so we don’t get separated as we weave through the crowd. For no good reason, I keep a hold of it as we cross the lobby to the elevators, and I hold it as we reach our floor and walk down the hall. I finally, reluctantly, let go when we get to our doors. Our rooms are across the hall from each other, and Randi’s room is next to Sophie’s. The nice thing about Clardmore hotels is that they’re built with shifters in mind and have extra soundproofing in the rooms to be mindful of superior shifting hearing. Still, even if you don’t actually hear anything, knowing your best friend and brother are in the next room boinking is awkward as hell.

“If you want to bunk in here,” I say, “you can. No hanky-panky, just sleeping.”

She grimaces, looks toward Randi’s door, then swipes her key card and pushes open the door. With a jerk of her head, she invites me to follow her in. We stand there, facing each other with our heads cocked toward the common wall. We hear a faint cry of what I assume is ecstasy, and that’s enough for Sophie to grab her bag and head toward the door.

“Let’s go. We’re only sleeping,” she says as she yanks it open. Just as my sister and coach are walking by.

Mallory stops and looks at us and then down at Sophie’s bag, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Going somewhere?” she asks. Then she notices me behind Sophie. Shit.

Coach looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“Miranda and Declan are next door. I just…no.” Sophie shakes her head emphatically.

Mal’s nose scrunches in commiseration.

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