Page 7 of Lucky Laces
Fuck.
“The man is a sadist,” King mutters, groaning as he gets to his feet.
“You’re just trying to distract us from the fact that you and Rory were caught naked the other day, so you’re well on your own way to trying to knock up the owner’s other daughter,” Cam says.
My brows fly up in surprise.
But worse—for him, anyway—King blushes.
“Dude,” I say under my breath, shaking my head, knowing there’s no preventing it now.
Because the guys see King’s pink cheeks…and the shit-giving commences.
Apparently, he and Rory were caught naked in a supply closet.
Yes, literally.
So yeah, King gets shit all the way to the locker room…and it doesn’t stop while we get dressed or even as we make our way onto the ice for practice.
Nor as practice commences.
Lucky for me, the guys are so focused on King—and Rome—and the fact they’re dating the daughters of our grumpy, billionaire owner, that me muddling through the drills and struggling with the plays and generally failing all around doesn’t hit their radar.
I’m safe.For now.
But when I get off the ice and head for the locker room, I see her.
Diana Connors.
The new head coach of the Eagles, Diana Connors.
The first female head coach in the league.
And the object of my fantasies since she first showed up at training camp.
Unusually, she’s in street clothes, having not joined us on the rink for practice—she hasn’t missed a team event, not since that first day she was on the payroll.
I tense, expecting her to comment on the shitshow of my performance out there.
But though her eyes catch mine for a moment, she doesn’t stop me and tell me I’m a failure and to get my ass out of here (not like our old coach would have done, not like my dad would have done).Instead, she nods, murmurs a soft “Hey” that I feel in my dick, and stops Rome as he steps off the ice.
“Can I borrow you for a second?”
God, her voice.
I fucking love her voice.
I hear it in my dreams sometimes.
My dick twitches, and I ignore my pulse of jealousy as I watch my friend disappear down the hall with her.
There’s nothing down that road except disaster.
Same as the disaster barreling toward me if I don’t get my shit together and memorize the plays, the changes to the team’s system.
That’s why I promise to grab a beer with the guys another time and go home instead.
It’s why I pull out the tablet.
