“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Emory’s voice hit the back of my neck, and I nearly elbowed him in the jaw for catching me. “Go away,” I snarled. “You smell like a whore house.” He sniggered under his breath and came to stand beside me. “Jealous?” I glared over at him. “Of you fucking a puck bunny? No.” I could have had my pick. I just didn’t want to. His lip curled upward as he ran a free hand through his dark hair. The hair on his face had fully grown in, and he already had the look of a pro NHL player. “Nah, I’m talkin’ about her.” I didn’t follow his gaze across the party because I knew he was
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