Page 101 of Playing the Pucking Game
The second I’m settled in the back of my Uber, my eyes roll up the tall building beside me, all the way to the penthouse sitting on the top.
Even if Linc were standing at the window, I wouldn’t be able to see him, but that doesn’t mean goose bumps don’t erupt across my body, making me think that he is.
The driver drags me from my thoughts when he confirms our location and takes off.
Unease builds within me as we make our way through the city toward the hotel where I have a man waiting for me.
A man who won’t hold back.
A man who will give me everything I ask for and never break my heart in the process.
As we get closer, the unease turns to a giant knot sitting heavy in my stomach, making me feel physically sick.
“Umm…could you go around the block again?” I ask my driver, not ready to get out.
“Yeah, sure,” he agrees before taking off.
And when we get around the front again, I ask the same thing.
My cell buzzes, and when I look, I find a message from Henry, checking that I’m still coming.
I’m never usually late, but when I look at the clock, I discover that I am.
My hand trembles as I think about what I’m doing.
This morning, when I made this date, I was so sure of myself.
But now…
Now, going into that hotel and falling into bed with a man is the last thing I want to do.
I quickly tap out an apology and hit send. The second I see it’s read, the pressure lifts, and I swear I breathe for the first time since I climbed into this car.
“Are you getting out, Ma’am?” my driver asks.
“Um…no. Could you carry on driving around for a bit? I’ll give you a new location soon.”
His eyes find mine in the mirror.
“You did the right thing,” he assures me, despite the fact that he has no idea what just happened.
27
LINCOLN
“Argh, you motherfucker,” Killer shouts as I run him off the road and leave him in my dust.
“Fuck’s sake. How did you win again?” Marilyn complains, sulking like the toddler he is.
“Because clearly, I’m the most talented player in the room. Hey,” I complain when Handsy throws an empty water bottle at my head.
“Let’s not get into that argument,” Brit mutters. “You all know I’d win.”
After Parker left me kneeling on my own goddamn floor like a horny teenager with a raging hard-on, I called in the guys for a distraction.
We ordered pizza and fired up the Xbox.
This is what a normal night off looks for us during the season. Sometimes there are more of us, sometimes fewer, but we kick back and try to forget about the pressures that are on us from every direction.
