Page 9 of Revenge Puck

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” Preston says.

“Well, thanks again,” I say as I drop my phone into my purse. “And good luck with the series. I’m still a Bobcats fan, though, so I hope you lose the seventh game.”

“You’re a hockey fan, but not a puck bunny?” he asks.

Turning to face him, I say, “Why else would I call in every favor I could until I found someone who had tickets for today’s game? It’s trophy time, baby!”

I think he almost smiled underneath all his fur. “Right, well, if you really want to piss Riley off, you should hold up a sign that says my stick is bigger than his.”

A huge smile stretches my face when the stern-looking man actually makes a joke. “That is a great idea. He would absolutely hate that!”

“I was kidding. Obviously.”

I prop my hands on my hips. “I’m not. I have plenty of time before the puck drop to make a sign. Except…”

Preston’s brow furrows like he hates when someone leaves him hanging. “Except what?”

“Except, well, I can’t put that sort of declaration on a sign and wave it over my head in front of thousands of people if it’s not true.”

A gruff scoff. “It is true.”

That’s a mighty big claim to make. And I can’t resist when my eyes lower to the front of his pants as if searching for proof.

Even the guard seems shocked when he does a laughing cough into his fist.

“Of course, you would claim it’s true. Any man would. Sorry, but I’m not a liar, no matter how much I hate Christian.”

“Trust me, my…stick is bigger.”

Christian may be a cheating piece of dogshit, but he is well endowed, that much I do know.

“Again, I want to believe you, Preston, I really do. But without proof, I can’t paint those words on a sign and cover it with glitter.”

“Glitter?”

“Oh, yeah. There would definitely be lots of glitter over my perfectly spaced stenciled lettering.”

“Now I definitely have to see this sign.”

“Too bad. I can’t make it happen without evidence.”

“You want me to give you evidence?”

“Ah…” Is he asking me what I think he’s asking? That’s the look I give the guard, who is still observing our conversation with his mouth gaping. “Yes?” The word comes out as a question.

Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “Sight or feel?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want to see or feel the proof? Lady’s choice.”

Do I want to see or feel his…stick. Wow. “You’re not serious.”

Turning to the guard, who is still silently observing us, Preston says, “Can you take my bag inside and give us a minute?”

“Sure thing. I’ll just go wait…” he trails off as Preston hands over his duffle. The guard staggers under the weight of the bag, then stares inquisitively at the hockey player until a glare from Preston sends him scurrying into the building.

Once we’re alone, Preston says, “I really do need to see that glitter sign of yours today in the stands, so whatever it takes…”

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