Page 138 of On Thin Ice

“He’s going glove-side,” Finn called out from the other side of the ice, and Jacob supposed he couldn’t be surprised that Finn was watching.

He’d be watching if he was Finn.

But he didn’t actually agree with Finn. How many times had he seen Morgan skate in like this? Too many to count. He didn’t always have a tell—that was part of what had made him so damngood—but Jacob tracked his gaze and had a feeling he wasn’t going to do anything as simple as going glove-side.

He’d want to be fancy, to beimpressive. To show off his Morgan goddamn Reynolds skills.

Jacob braced himself, keeping his weight perfectly balanced so hecouldchange his mind, but he wasn’t surprised in the least when at the last second, instead of shooting the puck, Morgan curved around the back of the net.

Jacob reacted instantly, dropping to his knee pad and sliding his stick around the side of the crease. It wasn’t the fastest reaction he’d ever had, but it must have been pretty damn good because Finn catcalled from the other side of the ice.

The puck bounced off Jacob’s pad, and Morgan swore, loudly.

“How’d you know I’d go around?” he demanded. He looked mildly perturbed but not burning up from the inside out with anger. Like he had so many times when they’d played each other.

Every time Jacob had denied him a goal, Morgan had always looked ready to kill Jacob. Or maybe worse, turn that anger onto himself.

“Lucky guess,” Jacob said, shrugging. “You always want to go so fucking fancy. Remind everyone you’re Morgan Reynolds.”

Morgan rolled his eyes but plucked another puck from the pile by the boards and started in another round.

They went for maybe ten minutes, taking longer and longer and breaks in between.

Jacob forgot how many shots he deflected, and how many goals Morgan scored on him, but he wasn’t really surprised when Morgan pulled up short, ice spraying from his skates, and said, “We’re even. Ten and ten.”

“Yeah?” Jacob pushed his helmet up and his sweaty hair back. This was as good as the machine back home—or maybe better, actually. Because as good as Morgan’s physical skills had always been, it was his conniving mind that was the toughest challenge.

“Yeah.” Morgan set his stick against the boards and grabbed his water bottle.

“You wanna call it?” Jacob asked, but he already knew what Morgan was going to say.

Morgan shrugged, and Jacob decided that he wouldn’t make him actually utter the words out loud.

“I think that’s a good place to leave it,” Jacob said. Then he glanced over towards the back of the rink. “Unless you want to give Finn some work.”

Morgan had the nerve to look shocked at that. “You’re actually gonna let me go against him?”

“Let you?Let you?” Jacob laughed. “I’m not his keeper.”

“No, just his boyfriend. And his coach.”

“He can handle you, if you don’t lose your mind,” Jacob said.

“Did I do that with you?” Morgan demanded.

“Nope. Which is why I suggested it in the first place,” Jacob pointed out dryly.

“Okay. Um. Yeah.” Morgan was floundering. Apparently he really hadn’t anticipated this.

“Take a break. I know you’re old now,” Jacob joked, ignoring it when Morgan flipped him off. He skated down to where Finn was finishing up his own drills.

“Hey,” Finn said. “Looking sharp out there.” His gaze was full of approval and heat. Jacob being good turned him on. Well, that wasn’t surprising, because Finn being downright fuckingamazingturned Jacob on too.

“Thanks,” Jacob said. “Hey, you good with your dad taking some shots at you?”

Finn leveled him with a flat stare. “Really?”

“I mean . . .”

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