Page 8 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

I took another long swig. “It should be terrible, and it’s great.”

A group of women flagged Kane down from the end of the bar, an expectant look in their eyes.

“Duty calls,” Kane said. “Jesse, don’t give Mason a hard time, okay?”

Kane was gone a moment later, heading toward the opposite end of the bar.

“Okay,pleaselisten to your brother,” I told Jesse the moment Kane was out of earshot. “I don’t know what he meant by ‘giving me a hard time,’ but I don’t want to find out.”

“Oh, chill out.”

“And thanks for mentioning you’re his damn sibling. Are you trying to get me killed?”

He gave me a look as he sipped his water.

Shit. Helikedthis. He wasn’t backing down—actually, he was looking at me like he couldn’t wait to keep messing with me.

Against my better judgment, my cock perked up again under his gaze.

All right, this is war.

It should have been illegal for my friends to have hot younger brothers. Completely illegal. Knowing how off-limits Jesse was only serving to make his catnip effect stronger now. I was pretty sure he didn’t really want me, or anyone. But my traitorous cock apparently liked doing bad things, too.

“You still want to play a game with me?” he finally asked.

“No.”

He turned his head a little. “Is that the truth?”

No, it’s not the truth, but I’m trying to avoid becoming any more attracted to you than I already am.

I need to just go home.

I sucked in a slow breath. “I’m always down for a game. But I should get the fuck out of here.”

“What game would you want to play?” he asked. “You know. If you weregoingto play one, instead of heading home.”

Was this how he intimidated opponents out on the ice? Giving them some mix between bedroom eyes and a look that saidyou don’t stand a chance?

I swirled my drink in my glass, watching the green liquid move over the ice.

“The type of game I usually like playing isn’t going to fly tonight,” I explained. “Not with you.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t know. Dumb stuff. Maybe taking off our shirts and seeing how long it is before people notice. Maybe truth or dare. Or trying to get as many phone numbers as we can, and seeing who gets more.”

His expression went stony as he looked back down at the bar. “I’m definitely not in the mood to get anyone’s number.”

There was that same dark cloud, passing back over his expression. What was bothering him?

“Pretty sure you’d win the phone numbers game easily, anyway,” I said. “We… could pretend we’re Scottish, put on accents, and go around the room talking to people. Or maybe French. Are all hockey players good at French accents?”

I was babbling. Every time I looked at his eyes now, it sort of felt like putting my nerves right into an electrical socket.

“I’m glad that Idon’tknow anybody in this bar other than Kane,” Jesse admitted, finally meeting my eyes again. “I needed to get out of my usual places.”

“Avoiding someone?”

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