Page 98 of Playing the Pucking Game
He’s a businessman, although I have no idea what he does. He clearly does it well, because he always stays in the best hotels and orders the most expensive alcohol for us. Neither of which I complain about. He also knows what he’s doing in the bedroom.
All I need is the name of the hotel he’s staying at tonight and I’m set.
Hopefully, once that is done, I’ll be able to focus on what I really need to do.
Find an apartment and get the hell away from Linc.
My session with Hayden passes quickly. He’s the youngest guy on the team, fresh from college, but while he might be a little green and overexcited about life, he’s so easy to get on with. His enthusiasm for life is infectious. I think we could all do with being a little more like him.
When I get home, Linc is lying on the couch, watching game tapes, but when he doesn’t look over or say anything, I hurry down to my room to get ready.
I have a message burning a hole in my pocket with a location for tonight, and I need to shower and shave every inch of my body.
I don’t feel the pressure with this hookup as I would with someone new, or even someone who could potentially be more than just a night of fun, but I still have some standards.
Henry has money, and very good taste, from what I can tell. I’d hate to disappoint him and walk away empty-handed.
Henry…I laugh to myself as I kick my door to. I don’t even know if that’s his real name. And do you know what? I don’t even care if it’s not.
I take my time getting ready, my stomach growling as I do so. The bagel I grabbed on the way to the arena earlier is long gone. But with the promise of a delicious meal before we get to the good part tonight, I held off having anything this afternoon.
I style my hair in loose waves before pinning the left side away from my face with a pretty clip, then I pull on a tiny pair of panties and the little black dress I wore out the other night. It’s not like I have a lot of options in my wardrobe right now.
It’s another reminder that I should probably be focusing on my clusterfuck of a life instead of my libido, but fuck it. There’s always tomorrow.
With a spritz of perfume, I grab my purse from the bed and stare down at my shoes.
My foot might be healing, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t any pain. But I can hardly turn up to this “date” wearing sneakers.
“Fuck’s sake,” I hiss as I bend down and snatch them from the carpet. I figure that I’ll put them on at the last minute and then slip them off again the second I’m at the table.
Without my shoes tapping against the wooden floor, Linc doesn’t hear me coming, so when I step into the kitchen, I see his entire body jerk in shock.
“Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“It’s…fuck. Parker, you look?—”
Thankfully, I’ve got my back to him, so he doesn’t see the moment I squeeze my eyes closed as flashbacks from our past hit me out of nowhere.
He’s not worthy of you, little P.
As much as I hate to say it, Linc was right.
Seth wasn’t good enough for me. Although, to be fair, I’m not sure I’ve ever met a man who is.
None of them ever step up when needed.
Okay, that’s a lie. Some do, just…not for me.
“Thanks,” I mutter, my cheeks burning.
“Where is he taking you?”
The temptation to say the movies is strong, but I swallow down the nostalgia.
“The Carlton.”
