Page 13 of Slapshot
“Yes, please, sit down.” Her words drip with sarcasm.
“Thanks.”
“Read the table,” her friend says.
I angle so I can’t see the death stare that her hater friend’s giving me. Kaitlyn looks more amused than pissed.
“Listen,” I say. “I wanted to say sorry about the whole mix-up with my skates.”
The waitress drops off their drinks and smiles at me. “Can I get you something?”
“He’s not with us,” Kaitlyn says.
“I’ll have another beer. Thanks.”
“Look…” Kaitlyn starts and then pretends like she doesn’t know my name. The way she had my skate size and blade radius memorized, I refuse to believe she doesn’t know the whole roster.
“Lex.” I hold out my hand.
Her blue eyes drop to it, but she doesn’t slide hers into mine. Instead, she peers around me, scoffs, and then rolls her eyes. “Go back to your teammates. Whatever they dared you to do—I’m not interested.”
The waitress reappears and sets my beer down in front of me. “Here you go,” she says cheerily.
I thank her and then refocus my attention on Kaitlyn. “I can’t do that until I’ve properly welcomed you to the team. We’re excited to get to know you. Plus, I like it better over here. You smell nicer.”
“I smell nicer than a bunch of hockey players. What a compliment.”
“Truth,” I say. “Kirk didn’t shower after the game. He says the ladies like the fresh stench on him after a game.”
Kaitlyn makes a face.
“Right?” Finally, a little common ground. Not showering after playing hockey is gross. I’ll take what I can get. “So, I heard you transferred here this year. Where from?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Come on. Tell me something. I’m trying to get to know you. I think you’re kind of fascinating.” And I really do for reasons I don’t even understand.
“I’ll bet,” she says dryly. “Me or my dad?”
“Both, I guess.” I shrug. “I didn’t know much about him until I got to Moo U, but the guys said he—”
“No, we’re not doing this.”
“Why not? Are you not interesting enough to hold a conversation?” I tease her.
She scoffs. “Like you would notice either way.”
“I’m sorry, did I not just walk over here to talk to you?” I chuckle at her clear refusal of my every attempt to get to know her. I’ve never met anyone like her, that’s for sure.
She invades my space, runs a finger up my arm and then twists the hair at the nape of my neck. Chills shoot down the left side of my body. Her body is arched toward mine at an angle that pushes out her tits. I try not to notice, but well… I fail. She’s got a nice rack. And judging by the low-cut of her dress that reveals part of her bra, I think people noticing was kind of the point.
“What do you want to know?” she asks. “What the great Declan Dalager is up to? See if I can maybe get you some face time or an autograph?”
I’m completely frozen and apparently unable to speak. She moves even closer so that her tits are now pressed against my chest and her blue eyes bore into me through thick black lashes. “Or maybe you were hoping we could just get out of here. Maybe a quick fuck in the parking lot to help celebrate the win? Is your car outside?”
My gaze drops to her parted lips. “I, uh…”
“Go back to your own crowd, Lex Vonne. I don’t sleep with hockey players and you’re not going to use me to get to my father.”
