Page 140 of Playing the Pucking Game
“Go and get in your fucking seat, Storm,” he barks, making those around us laugh.
He gives me a shove and I stumble forward. Unfortunately, I trip over my own foot and go flying forward.
“Linc,” a familiar voice squeals as I catch myself on an armrest.
“Holy shit,” I gasp, having seen my life flash before my eyes. But the moment I look up, I forget about almost dying because Parker’s wide, golden eyes are staring right at me. “Hey,” I say, my lips curling into a smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Shocking,” she deadpans.
Time seems to stand still as we stare at each other.
There’s a little voice in my head screaming at me to celebrate tonight’s win the only way I really want to.
I try to ignore it, but with Parker’s lips only inches from mine and her sweet scent in my nose, it’s really fucking hard.
“I think you’re meant to be finding your seat,” Brooke says from beside Parker.
“Shit, yeah. I’m going. I just…I needed?—”
“Get moving, Storm,” Fletch barks from somewhere behind me.
When I stand, I find that I’ve got the eyes of almost the entire team on me.
Fuck.
“Watch yourself, Storm. We won’t ever forgive you if you squash our favorite trainer,” Monroe says loudly enough for Dillion Mitchell to hear.
I cringe but don’t bother glancing his way. It’s true. The guy is a douche who thinks he knows everything.
“Donnelly is safe with me. If I hurt a single hair on her head, her big brother would get to me long before you guys would.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked Rett.”
“Shame he doesn’t even know your name,” Killer snarks from behind me.
“One day he will,” Monroe says confidently. “Every motherfucker in this country will.”
The guys continue chirping with Monroe as I finally make my way to my seat.
“You can thank me later,” Kodie says when he drops into his seat beside me.
“For what, exactly?”
“Oh, come off it. As if you haven’t been fantasizing about getting that close to Parker.”
“Hmm,” I mumble. “I think I’d prefer if she sits in my lap, though.”
“You’re so fucked, man.”
“Things are good right now,” I say, as I stretch my legs out before more, more than ready to lose the suit and pull on a pair of sweats.
He mumbles something in response but gets distracted by his cell. I don’t need to look over to know that he’s messaging Casey; the guy radiates fucking happiness when he so much as thinks about her.
Pulling my own cell free, I find my conversation with Parker.
Storm: Sorry about that. Wouldn’t mind spending the flight on your lap, though.
Little P: I can think of better ways to spend a flight than under two hundred pounds of muscle.
