Page 10 of No Rhyme or Roughing
Only after she was gone did I realize I wasn’t wearing a shirt. In fact, all I had on were my Pikachu boxers.
Teddy was going to murder me.
Morning came too early,and practice was brutal. By the time we finished the bag skate, my legs were almost too heavy to walk. I leaned back on the bench in front of my locker, waiting for enough energy to get into the shower.
“You good, bro?” Rowan sat beside me, looking like he hadn’t just skated in full goalie gear. I didn’t know how he did it.
“Yeah.” I bent over, resting my elbows on my knees. “A bit tired today.”
He was quiet for a moment, very un-Rowan-like. “I noticed you were on the couch this morning.”
I shrugged. “Chivalry, Ro.”
A laugh barked out of him. “Sure. I also noticed something else this morning—Sydney’s car looks like it’s been hit.” He eyed me curiously, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. I’d told them about the girl I ran into, the one I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.
“So, it does.”
“What’s the deal with Teddy’s sister?” Julian Nightshade, my opposite winger, sent me a grin. “You know if she’s single, Cap?”
I got to my feet without thinking, but before I got to him, Teddy appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the back of Julian’s jersey and dragging him toward the showers. He shoved him inside and turned on the water, huffing, “Stay away from my sister.”
I joined the rest of the team in laughter, trying to ignore the uneasiness in my gut. Teddy marched out into the locker room, sending a glare around the room. “That goes for all of you. If anyone so much as touches her, you’ll have me and Ryder to answer to.”
I jerked at him bringing me into it, but he wasn’t wrong. Teammates or not, captain or not, I’d wreck them.
Keaton O’Connor—or “Keats,” as we called him because of his obsession with the poet—put a hand to his chest. “Love is my religion. I would die for it.”
And he would. Die, I meant. If he got too close to Sydney and Teddy found out.
“All right, all right.” I stood, clapping a hand on Keats’s shoulder. “No need for all this animosity among teammates.” I sent Teddy acool downlook. “Let’s all agree to treat Teddy’s sister with respect. That means even you, Mr. Poet Man.”
Keats sighed. “Alas, another maiden will miss my treasures.”
The guys snickered, a few murmuring “treasures.” We were all dicks, but they were the best dicks I knew.
Dragging myself toward the shower room, I stripped off my sweat-soaked shirt and stepped out of the rest of my clothes. The spray soothed my aching muscles, but I didn’t stay under it for long before I heard someone calling my name.
“Where is Cassidy?” Frankie, one of the assistant coaches, yelled.
Towel wrapped around my hips, I walked into the room. Frankie didn’t bother averting her eyes and didn’t seem to notice any of the guys’ states of undress. It was one of the first things I noticed about her when I joined the team. She only saw us as hockey players, not men. I figured it made her job easier.
“Yeah, Coach?” I liked Frankie and respected her methods. She ran the power play, the only efficient part of our game.
“Mr. Mac is asking for you.”
“Why?”
As a kid, when Mr. Macintosh picked me up from school, I knew I was in trouble. Mom would call him after Teddy and I pulled one of our many stunts, and he was a master lecturer. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that Iappreciated how much he cared about me. He’d loved my dad like a brother, despite being much older than him, and keeping me in line was his way of holding on to that connection.
The other guys steered clear of me after that announcement. Only Teddy knew my connection to the man. The rest only saw their captain getting called todaddy’s office.Sometimes, I caught them calling himMac Daddy,but knowing the man, he’d probably find it hilarious.
I dressed quickly and headed to the executive floor of the arena. Mr. Mac was on the board of several tech companies, but he’d sold his firm long ago and now kept an office here.
His office was the nicest part of the entire arena. This was my third time inside it. Dark walls, a beautiful oak desk, and the most comfortable plush chairs I’d ever sat on. He was seated on one when I knocked on the open door.
Lowering the paper he was reading, he looked at me with the same intensity he’d always had. I could never hide anything from the man. He could sniff out lies like a bloodhound. A smile spread across his lips as he folded the newspaper.
“Ryder. It sure is good to see you, boy.”
