Page 41 of Playing the Pucking Game
“I promise to go easy on you.”
“Whoa.” Marilyn rears back. “I might be a rookie, but I’m no pussy.”
“We’ll see,” Parker says before getting into position and sliding her hands up the back of his thigh.
Every single muscle in my body tenses at the sight of her touching him.
“See, that’s nice,” Marilyn says.
“Yeah?” Parker asks, something wicked flashing in her eyes. “What about this?”
Marilyn’s yelp echoes around the room as Parker finds the sore spot. I swear, his entire body leaves the surface of the table.
Laughter ripples through the air, and he whimpers in pain.
“Aw, was that a little too much for you?” Parker teases, causing more laughter.
Oh yeah, she’s going to fit right in here.
“Little bit,” Marilyn forces out, tears in his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll take it a little softer. We’ll get this fixed up in no time.”
He relaxes back and we all watch for a few minutes as she lessens her pressure and begins a hypnotic rhythm up and down Marilyn’s hamstring.
“This isn’t prime-time TV,” a deep voice booms around the room. “Get some work done. We’re on the ice in two hours,” Coach barks before disappearing as fast as he arrived.
“You heard the man,” Fletch says, continuing with the stretches he was doing before turning his attention to Parker.
“You good?” Kodie asks when I step up beside him, still watching Parker and Monroe out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, of course. Why?”
“You look like you want to be the one up there.”
“Being put in that much pain? No, thank you.”
“Hmm.”
“If you have something to say, Rivers, just spit it out.”
“How is living together going?”
“Wait, what was that?” Fletch asks. “Linc is living with someone? A woman?”
I shoot a look over at Parker, but she’s too distracted with Monroe to hear us. Something tells me that she doesn’t want the entire team to know about her current living arrangements.
“Just helping out a friend. It’s nothing like that,” I say, narrowing my eyes at Kodie.
He holds his hands up in surrender.
“Whatever you say, man. Just be aware that Fletch and I know what that look means.” He points at me, circling his finger around my face.
“What look?”
“Yeah,” Fletch muses. “I see it.”
“See what?” I demand.
