Page 50 of Puck King
“Got a minute for a play?” Jake pulled a puck from his pocket.
“Only if you’re ready to look like an old man.” Colton grinned and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll be back in a second.”
I took out my phone and started to video the two players. Through the screen I saw what the world saw – Colton King’s power and mastery of the sport, and the attractiveness that came with being at the top of his game. Literally. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I watched Colton. This man – this perfect man, wanted to be with me. I couldn’t believe my luck. I was an ordinary woman, and this man was extraordinary.
Voices and car doors slamming caught my attention and I stopped filming. A stream of handsome young men were making their way toward the ice. “Holy shit, is that Colton King?” I heard one of them whisper to another.
“It is,” one of the other guys responded. “Maybe they finally came to their senses and kicked him off the team.”
The hair stood up on the back on my neck, but it felt like hackles.
“He’s getting his mojo back. Didn’t you see the last game? He’s coming back. The man is a pro.”
I shoved the phone in the pocket of the oversized jacket. The first player, the starstruck one, had clapped back before I could. Which was a good thing, since his response was a lot more diplomatic than mine was going to be.
The naysayer sat on the bench right beside where I was standing. “He might be, but his antics have ruined it for the other guys. I would not want to be on that team right now. The press is all over every single player because of King. He’s not a leader. His daddy owns the team and he does whatever the hell he wants without thinking about anyone else. He’s too high profile. They should get rid of him and get a real player, like Liam Bradshaw.”
“Bradshaw is a hack. You’ll see. I’d bet money that the Thunder still make the playoffs.”
While this conversation went back and forth, I focused on the action on the ice. Colton did some fancy moves with his stick and deked around Jake.
“Whoa.” A couple of the other players shouted at the same time and then started clapping. The jerk just crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.
The younger, less jerky player – the one with the full-on mullet, elbowed the jerk. “He’s coming over.”
Colton’s smile warmed my insides better than the coffee that was still steaming in my mug. “Boys.” He greeted the crew of young players as a group. “Babe.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me in front of everyone.
“I got a great video of you two.” I took my phone from my pocket.
Jake had skated up behind Colton. “Hey Team. Where’s Coach?”
The player with the mullet paused while lacing up his skates. “He’s on his way. Something to do with his kid or something.”
Jake looked at his watch. “I guess I’ll be running practice until he gets here. Do you want to stick around?” he asked us.
Colton squeezed my shoulder. “I would love to skate with the Otters, but we have to get back to the city.”
Jake took the phone from Colton’s hand. “Let me get a picture of you two lovebirds.”
Thankful for more photos to give Everleigh, I leaned into Colton and tried to forget the words of the young players. As much as I wanted to punch the jerk in the face for talking shit about Colton, he wasn’t wrong. Colton’s actions had impacted the entire team. And now we were going to save it. I smiled at the camera, but Colton turned and pulled me tightly to him, planting a kiss on my lips. This kiss felt different, almost possessive, and my knees wobbled but in a good way. He was staking his claim, showing the crowd of men that I was his. And I liked it. He followed up by hooking his elbow around my neck and kissing my temple.
“Had enough of the puck bunnies?” the jerk muttered from under his breath. He was bent over, lacing up his skates, but when Colton stepped beside him, he looked up.
“Colton.” I grabbed onto his arm. He was coiled tight like a tiger about to pounce.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Colton growled.
The jerk put his hand up in front of him. “Whoa, dude. I didn’t mean anything.”
Colton’s stance softened. “As a matter of fact…” He let his hands fall to his side and slipped his fingers between mine. “What’s your name?”
“Tanner.”
“Well, Tanner.” Colton kissed my fingers. “Iamtired of puck bunnies. The faster you learn that real women are where it’s at, the better.”
Half the team seemed stunned; the other half were laughing and slapping Tanner on the back.
Colton waved to Jake. “See you, McManus”
