Page 6 of Pucking Curves

His teammates watch us like they’re watching a ping-pong match, amused grins on their faces.

Micah growls, but he’s wavering, getting ready to cave just like he always does. He can’t tell me no. He never has been able to do it. Giving me what I want is hardwired into him, a byproduct of a lifetime of my needs always coming second to his career, I think.

Micah and I have the same mom, but not the same dad. His dad died when he was just a baby. My dad was his coach. Our mom was at every single one of his games, and they fell in love. My dad adopted him not long after I was born. Micah wasn’t one of those kids who ever minded having a little sister. He spoiled me growing up.

And he’s always felt guilty that I almost died on the ice when I was ten. He’s convinced that if hockey hadn’t been my whole life, I wouldn’t have been out there that day.

His guilt is unnecessary, but there’s no telling him that. He goes out of his way trying to make it up to me. I usually fight him on it because there’s nothing for him to make up to me, but sometimes, like right now? Well, you gotta do what you gotta do. And if playing dirty means I get even ten more minutes with Archer, well, I’ll play dirty.

“I’ll take her gambling,” Archer says before Micah can give in gracelessly.

Micah glances over at him.

Archer just shrugs. “I’m going that way anyway.”

“You sure, man? She’s a pain in the ass.”

“I am not!”

“You kinda are,” River St. James says, smirking at me from across the table.

I just roll my eyes at him. He only flirts with me to annoy Micah…just like half the other guys on the team. None of them actually mean it. Thank God, because I would literally rather walk through fire naked.

“Shut the fuck up and keep your eyes off my sister, River,” Micah growls without even looking at him, which only makes River laugh.

“Just sayin’,” he murmurs.

Archer shoots him a scathing look, which shuts him up.

Logan Moreno laughs quietly, shaking his head.

“She can come with me,” Archer says, turning back to Micah. “It’ll be fine.”

My brother hesitates briefly before nodding. “Fine, but you better take care of her, man. If anything happens to her in Vegas, I will throw you from the plane tomorrow.”

Archer holds his gaze, not wavering. “I swear to you, if anything happens to her on my watch, I’ll throw myself from the plane.” There’s a thread in his voice…something so raw and intense. It sends a thrill ripping through me.

Micah grumbles under his breath and then drags out his wallet, counting out one-hundred-dollar bills before holding them out to Archer.

“What the fuck is this for?” Archer asks, looking at it like Micah’s trying to hand him something dead.

“For the damage she’s about to do out there.” My brother sighs. “Trust me, bro. You’re going to need it.”

I stick my tongue out at him like a two-year-old. Mostly because he’s probably right. I’ve never gambled before. I went to a boring play for my twenty-first birthday last year. And I’m not even sure I can see straight right now. This is probably going to be a disaster.

“Keep it,” Archer mutters, sliding from the booth. “I’ve got it.”

“Whatever.” Micah shrugs. “It’s your funeral. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up tomorrow and you’re missing a few zeroes in your account.”

“I am not that bad,” I complain, wobbling to my feet.

My brother’s snort makes it clear he thinks I’m full of shit. Who asked for his opinion, anyway?

Five minutes later, Archer leads me onto the casino floor. I stand there for a minute, just trying to get my bearings. Everything is bright and loud, lights flashing and machines beeping all over the casino floor.

“It’s kind of pretty,” I murmur. “Like a screaming neon oasis.”

A deep laugh rumbles from Archer’s lips. “That’s one way to put it,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Where we heading first, little bird?”

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