Page 11 of Blood on Ice

That funny feeling in my stomach was not disappointment. It absolutely couldn’t be. I’d told him I wanted him to leave me alone. Maybe he’d actually listened.

Johnson caught up to me as the team headed to the locker room. “What are you in such a fucking hurry for?”

I hadn’t even realized I was moving fast, but for once my mind didn’t fail me when I had to think on the fly. “I was hoping Coach wouldn’t catch me. I know he’s still pissed after yesterday.”

Johnson laughed. “Nah, he’s over it. You looked great out there today.”

“Seriously? I was passable. Great would be stretching it.”

He frowned. “Are you always this hard on yourself?”

Was I? “I like to be realistic.”

“Nothing about what we do is realistic. We’re superstars.”

“That’s debatable, and we sure as hell aren’t magic.”

“Are you sure about that? Cause there’s plenty of people up there”—he tilted his chin toward the stands—“who think we are.”

I didn’t think my stalker thought I was magic, but he sure as hell thought he was going to have his way with me. Not that fucking him would be so bad. It would probably be good as hell but dangerous, so fucking dangerous. I had to remember that. I had to keep my focus on the game. I was here to play hockey and save up to pay off my debt.

And then what? Lead a calm, boring life?

“You’re way too serious today,” Johnson said. “Let’s go out after we cool off and get cleaned up.”

“I need to go home and get some rest so I can be fresh for tomorrow’s game.”

“Once we start into the full season schedule, there won’t be many nights when we can afford to get wasted. We should enjoy this now.”

“We should enjoy that in the off-season.”

He snorted. “Mr. Rule Follower.”

“I need to keep my place here. After last year, everything’s on the line for me.”

He bumped shoulders with me. “I know you do but come out to dinner and have a drink or two. I won’t force you to stay up past your bedtime.”

I shoved him into the wall. “Fuck off.”

“Dinner?”

I scowled at him. “You’re not asking me on a date, are you?”

“Fuck no, you’re so not my type.”

“A rule follower?”

“Well, yeah, that’s definitely not my type. But don’t you meet guys and just know when they’re meant to be friends.”

I shook my head. “I’ve been friend zoned. The worst.”

“Shut up and get in there.” He pushed me into the locker room.

We changed into workout wear, did our cool down, then headed for the showers.

I wanted to tell him I was too tired to go out, but I didn’t need the whole team laughing about how pathetic I was any more than I needed them labeling me a gambling addict or a drunk.

“What do y’all want for dinner?” one of the other guys asked as we all got dressed.

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