Page 72 of No Pucks

“Cause any more trouble for my daughter or my grandsons, and you’ll regret it,” Mr. Cadieux says.

Security drags Cox Sr. out, and he doesn’t get another word in. Logan moves back to his original place without notice. Artful, but I can’t help the dread at picking a new fight with Cox Sr.

I blow out a breath when things settle. “Should I be worried about my job?”

Mr. Cadieux shakes his head, glancing between me and his daughter. “I don’t know what his issue is with you here, but I’ll make sure they understand the money they are expecting when my grandson graduates won’t be coming if they do any such thing.”

“Thank you.”

“I have some stuff to handle,” Mr. Cadieux says. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back for the puck drop.” He’s the type of owner who never misses a game.

Claire follows him out, leaving the three of us alone in the box.

“He holds up.” Evander gets a drink then tells the bartender and chef we’ll call if they’re needed. They both leave.

“I thought you were there?” I ask.

“We were both pretty drunk, and you never know with old dudes.” Evander shrugs.

Logan flips him off. “I have exquisite taste.”

“It’s fine, I guess. Not for me.” Evander takes his drink to one of the oversized armchairs.

Logan slips his hand in mine and leads me to the other.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? They’ll be back.” I hesitate when he sits.

“We’ll know.” Logan waves me off. “I thought you wanted to do things other than fuck?”

Asshole.

“Using my damn words against me.” I give him a flat look.

“You do it to me.” He crosses an ankle over his knee, not at all uncomfortable. It’s easy to tell he grew up here. “I didn’t mean get me fired.”

I wasn’t comfortable even when I played here.

“Your job is safe now. See what I did there?” Was this his plan all along? I wouldn’t put it past Logan. He made me bullet proof with his grandfather behind me.

Short of pictures of us going viral or player complaints eliciting public outcry, the school would leave me alone.

I glance out of the glass. “What if someone photographs us?”

“It’s not like the other boxes. It’s one way. The owner needs privacy for sensitive meetings,” Logan says like it’s common knowledge, and maybe it is. I’ve never thought about it.

I sit next to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, putting a hand on my thigh.

“For letting me witness all that and making my job secure.”

“Keep fucking me, and it’s worth it.”

“You know that’s for me too, right?” I say dryly.

Evander shudders and averts his eyes. “Can you two cut the sexual tension for five minutes to help me un-fuck my current life situation?”

I look at Logan for context.

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