Page 160 of Playing the Pucking Game
Finally, his smile breaks through. “If you’re a good girl, I’ll buy you a sweet treat.”
I playfully smack him in the chest. “You’re a nightmare.”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” he states confidently as he puts the car in drive and pulls into traffic.
He turns the music up, stopping any further conversation before he begins singing along. It’s infectious, and one song later, I’m joining in.
“Didn’t have you down as a Taylor fan,” I say when he’s finished a god-awful rendition of “Cruel Summer.”
“I like all kinds of music,” he says, killing the engine and staring out at the store in front of us. “And she’s a legend. How could I not like her music? That’s like saying someone doesn’t like watching me play hockey.”
I laugh. “Conceited much?”
“Meh,” he mutters with a shrug as he leans over me to pull a baseball cap from the glove compartment. “Ready?”
I sigh. “As I’ll ever be. If you get swarmed, I’m calling a rideshare and leaving you here.”
“You mean you won’t rescue me from my devoted fans?” he asks as we round the trunk of the car. He pulls his cap on and tugs it low, doing the best he can to hide his face.
I’ve been out with both him and Rett loads of times where they haven’t been recognized, or where fans are able to keep their distance, but something tells me today isn’t going to be the day.
“I really don’t need to watch you get molested by the female population of LA.”
“I knew it,” he says enthusiastically. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous,” I state firmly. “It’s just…ugh.”
“You sound jealous,” he teases as I battle to find the right words.
“Women are strong and independent beings. We are capable of doing everything men can, and yet, they take one look at you, or any other member of the team, and go all weak at the knees.”
Linc beams. “It’s a special kind of skill to possess.”
I shake my head as he grabs a cart.
“Come on, then, roomie. What are we getting?”
“Out of here?”
He laughs and links his arm through mine, tugging me into his side and pushing the cart one-handed.
“You’re cute,” he muses before diving into a conversation about meal planning for the days we’re home this week.
I silently walk beside him, wondering who the hell he is and what he’s done with Linc. Linc doesn’t worry about meal planning. He just orders in after spending an hour banging a different girl. Or at least, that’s what I assumed.
I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got it all wrong.
We’re about halfway around and I’ve barely said a word when he pauses at the bread. I frown, wondering what he’s doing before he turns to me with a wide smile on his face. “What would you prefer this week? White or seeded, sweetheart?”
I practically choke on my own saliva. “I’m sorry, what?”
He smirks at me as another couple walks past.
Narrowing my eyes in warning, I reach for a loaf of bread, not caring to look what type it is before throwing it into the cart.
“Watch it, Storm,” I warn before taking off.
“Wait, love,” he calls behind me, making me cringe. “You missed the soda aisle.”
