Page 91 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Or sign.

“Part of this is your brother’s fault for giving you rules—he should know better than that. You’re hot, you’re single, he’s on a team with eligible bachelors.” She snorts. “He’s cockblocking, that’s what he’s doing and it’s rude. RUDE I SAY!”

She’s not wrong but that doesn’t negate the fact that he made his teammates off-limits.

“I swear to God, Poppy?—”

My words are cut off when the crowd suddenly surge to their feet, with deafening shouts.

My head snaps up in time to see Luca breaking away with the puck moving down the ice, fast and dangerous, two defenders from the opposing team closing in on him. He moves faster cutting hard toward their net.

“Damn. Dude is flying,” Poppy says under her breath.

Luca spins, feints left, then slams on the brakes. One of the defenders passes him, crashing into the boards. The other tries to check him but Luca slips free, all muscle and precision.

He shoots.

Scores.

The Baddies bench erupts.

Luca doesn’t celebrate.

He skates toward center ice, head down, jaw tight. Like this goal didn’t scratch the surface of the adrenaline pumping through his system.

More.

He wants more…

I shiver, eyes locked on him.

Poppy exhales beside me. “Holy. Shit.”

My heart pounds. Palms sweaty. Knees weak.

“Yeahhh.”

“He’s amazing,” Poppy says, fanning herself with her empty cup. “With a Capital-H forhotand a Capital-T fortrouble.”

I’m still staring at him like I’ve forgotten how to blink. “He didn’t even smile.”

“He doesn’t need to smile. His face does enough damage.”

I can’t stop thinking about that look he had; serious. Determined. I’ve watched him play before—obviously I have, all those times I’ve come to watch Gio—but I’ve never paid attention to the expressions on his face when he played.

Never cared.

Well.

I’m noticing now.

The way his jaw tightens when he passes the puck. The quickness of his eyes, always scanning, calculating. How every part of him is focused and furious and frighteningly beautiful. There’s a stillness in his expression even when he’s moving like lightning—like his body is chaos and his mind is ice.

Such a turn on…

Poppy exhales again. “I’ve never been so jealous of a puck in my life.”

I wrap my arms around myself, wrapping myself up in his hoodie.

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