Page 27 of Revenge Puck

“Seriously?”

He nods slowly. “Thankfully, since we’re in different divisions, we’ve only met twice since we both went pro five years ago.”

“And you were ejected from both games?”

“I didn’t even make it through the first period of either of them.”

“Wow.”

“My team lost both times too, which makes it even worse. I didn’t want to let my teammates or the fans down by getting booted out of the first game of the finals.”

“No kidding. You must really hate Christian.”

“I really do.”

“Why? What did he do to you?” I can’t help but ask.

“It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated? Are you just trying to tell me nicely that it’s none of my damn business?”

“Pretty much.” A corner of his lips lift behind all his facial hair. “Glad you can read between the lines, cupcake.”

The nickname for me, while it sounds sort of sweet, still rubs me the wrong way. I’ll never forget what he told me, about how he might think I’m cute, but he would never be tempted.

“I get it. That’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. I owe you for going along with my request for a photo without knowing who I was or if I was nuts.”

“What exactly did Riley do to you, Elle?”

“What did he do besides dump me out of the blue? Well, he also, almost in the same breath, told me that I was a nobody,and informed me he had been sleeping with lots of other women when I thought we were together.”

“Got it. He was an enormous dick.”

“A gigantic dick. And I get it. He’s a star. I’m just a woman who cuts hair that he met when he wandered into the salon, after practice one day. I should’ve known better than to think a guy like Christian would give up other women for me.”

“You don’t deserve to be treated that way by anyone, especially him.”

“Thanks.”

“So, you cut hair?”

“Cut, color, style. I share a salon with my best friend, Audrey. She was with me at the game.”

“Right, yeah.” Preston rakes his fingers through his shaggy black hair. “My hair could use a trim, couldn’t it?”

“Yes, it could. And I would be happy to fit you in while you’re in town waiting for game two. I’ll give you one of my cards with our address on it and you can come by whenever.”

“Okay, cool.”

My eyes lower to his beard, wondering how he would look without it covering the majority of his face.

“You want to shave my beard off, don’t you?”

“I really do.”

He gives the bottom of it a tug. “Too bad. It’s bad luck to touch the beard during the playoffs.”

“That is a big load of superstitious bullshit guys use as an excuse so they don’t have to tend to their facial hair for weeks.”

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