Page 21 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

I pulled away. “Not long enough.”

“Oh, come on. You used to be fun.”

Confession #8:I’ve been with some real assholes in my day, blind to the fact that they were assholes until after.

Brett Miller, winger, number twelve, was a mistake I made a few times during sophomore year. And again one night last year when I was too drunk to remember how much of an asshole he was.Another point for keeping the drinking to a minimum.

“I don’t sleep with hockey players anymore,” I said. “Or assholes. Guess that’s a strike on two fronts for you.”

Instead of getting mad, he placed his hand on my hip and slid his thumb under my shirt. “Okay, no sleeping.” He smirked. “That was never what we were good at anyway.”

I slapped his hand away. Before I could tell him to go try what he called “moves” on someone else, an arm shot over my shoulder.

Ryder placed his hand square on Brett’s chest and gave him a shove, causing him to stumble a step, into the person behind him. “Back off.”

“It’s okay,” I said, turning to Ryder. I didn’t want him getting into a fight with his teammate because of me. I used to think there was something flattering about two guys fighting over me, but again, I hadn’t been the best judge back then, and now I’d rather avoid drama at all costs.

Brett laughed. “Don’t you know who she is? If you think you’re the only guy Lindsay’s working right now, you’re fooling yourself. You’re just too young to remember when she hopped from guy to guy, like the little bunny she is.”

He winked at me, and Ryder advanced. I threw myself into his path, putting an arm out to stop him. Trying to control the situation while standing in line was impossible, especially with the antagonizing asshole and onlookers in the mess, so I grabbed Ryder’s hand and pulled, trying to get him away from the crowd.

He didn’t move, even when I tugged with every ounce of weight I had on my curvy five-foot-five frame.

A grunt escaped when I jerked on his hand again, and while he still didn’t move, he finally looked at me. “Please, Ryder. Let’s go.”

“I’ll just get him on the ice, then.” While I’d accused Ryder of being intense before, it was nothing compared to the steely glare he leveled on Brett. “See you at practice on Monday, Miller.”

“Sure thing, rookie. I’m looking forward to it.”

No doubt he was also looking forward to filling him in on my sordid history, too. I assumed Ryder had heard a few rumors about me, and at first I thought it might be why he’d pursued me in the first place. But he’d stuck around even after I made it clear I wasn’t into hooking up, and I thought maybe I’d been out of the game long enough for him to not know the extent—I’d dared to hope for it even.

How stupid was I, thinking I could just start over and the past wouldn’t matter? I knew better than to come to this party, but I’d slipped and here I was. It would’ve been better for Ryder to think I was just a coldhearted bitch than for him to learn my entire history with the team. One that meant he’d never want me, even if I did break my own rules. Not long term, anyway, which I told myself I didn’t want and wasn’t possible, yet the thought of him seeing me differently after he found out the truth still sent a pang through me.

“Sorry about that,” I said once we found a secluded pocket away from the crowd.

“You’resorry? He was the one being a prick. I swear if he touches you again, I’ll break his fingers one by one—I don’t even care if he misses the rest of the season. He’s not as important to the team as he thinks he is.”

“I know it’s cliché to say, but he really isn’t worth it.” The guy wasn’t worth the time I’d already wasted on him. For months, I told myself regretting parts of my past didn’t do me any good—it was all about upward and onward—but the truth was, it didn’t stop me from wishing I could go back in time and take some things back.

Ryder studied me, the line of his jaw growing tighter. “If you cry, I’m going to go back there and beat the shit out of him. That’s just a fact.”

“I’m not going to cry,” I said, and to my dismay, my voice broke. Like everything else involving this place and this crowd, I was rusty. I couldn’t smother my emotions as well as I used to. Pushing everyone away helped ensure no one saw them, but it hadn’t helped me actually face them and deal with them.

Everything from the night crashed into me, hit after hit, and my knees threatened to buckle.

Ryder took my hand and started to slip his fingers between mine. As much as I craved the comfort, I couldn’t give in. This entire night was a mistake. I pulled away and hugged my arms around myself.

“I guess it’s stupid that I even tried to hide my past from you. That I thought maybe a year away would change things, and I’d earned a fresh start.”

Confusion crinkled his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

God, he was so blessedly clueless. For a brief, torturous moment, I let myself imagine that I’d met a guy like him first. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent nearly three years searching for something more, only to find I’d been looking in all the wrong places.

Then again, I’d deluded myself into thinking a guy was different before, and I got burned.

“Look, I used to be like those girls”—I gestured toward Misty and a few of the others who were pressed up against hockey players, a silent game of who’s going home with whom tonight. Some of the girls were two to a player.

At least I’ve never done that.

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