So This Is War (Vancouver Agitators, #5)

by Meghan Quinn

daughter. Yes, it was in the locker room. Yes, it was out in the open where anyone could walk in. Was it stupid? Absolutely. Have I lost my mind? One hundred percent. Do I have any defense? Not one. Nope, this was pure stupidity. This was a move by a desperate man brought to his knees. A weak man. A man with no morals. A man infatuated with a woman he can’t control himself around.

“Then he’s benched,” Wood says as he looks me in the eyes, nostrils flaring. “Did you hear that, you bologna-loving motherfucker? You’re benched.”

Nope, this will take a monumental, epic proposal of apologies, especially if I want to stay on this team. Which I do. My boys are here. My life is here. She’s here . . . Which means I need a plan. But I swore I wouldn’t get them involved. I said over and over again that I wouldn’t use their idiotic advice or poorly constructed ideas, but I think desperate times call for desperate measures.

It’s time to call on the Frozen Fellas.

“Because you’re a redhead, and redheads make my blood boil in a good, heart-racing way. You also have amazing tits. And when I got closer, I saw how light your eyes were and was captivated. No one else in this room was worth my time compared to you.”

“But I said I wanted to come on your cock, not your tongue.” “You act as if you’ve only come once in a night.” “What if I have?” I ask. “Then you need to spend the night with me, baby, because you aren’t coming just once. Guaran-fucking-tee.”

I knock on my dad’s office door and take a bite of my bologna sandwich. Whoever’s bologna this is, it’s freaking good. It’s my third one this week.

All these assholes are head over heels, living in their lover era, because of me.

“And most importantly, rule number five. Under no circumstances will you have any sort of physical contact with my daughter.”

“What do you mean⁠—” “Fucking her. You will not fuck her, Posey.” “Ahh . . .” I smile. “Well, no worries there. Pretty sure if she looks anything like you, there will be no need for rule number five.”

The girl I hired a fucking private investigator to find. That’s how goddamn desperate I was.

“Listen to me, you fuck,” he starts, apparently forgetting his bedside manners for people doing him a favor. “I saw the way you just looked at her, and if you even think about her in any way other than your coach’s extremely off-limits daughter, I will personally slice your dick off with a rusty pair of skates. Got it?”

Wylie isn’t the redhead I’ve been thinking about for a year. Wylie is my coach’s daughter. But not just that. She is my scary coach’s daughter. Meaning, despite the kiss we shared or the way she made me feel that night, she is completely and utterly off limits.

When it comes to Wylie Wood, I’m in a whole lot of trouble.

“Jessica’s not your type?”

“I feel like she’s everyone’s type.”

“Not ...

“Is that so? Then what is ...

“I’m staring at it.”

“Wylie, the wench who lives in the nanny hole, has a nice ring to it, honestly, but I’d have to go with Wylie, my girlfriend.”

“Fuck with one, fuck with all.”

“Don’t lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you over pride. You’re better than that.”

“You are the best thing to ever happen to me. You are my rock, my strength, my everything, and I’m so beyond grateful you have chosen me.”

“How could I have chosen anyone else?” he says. “You were clearly made for me.”

I was looking for one night of fun, and he’s offering me an endless eternity of love.

And here I thought I’d be at war with this girl forever, a mad battle of erotic torture. Instead, I won the battle. I won the best prize of all time. I get to call Wylie Wood mine and share the rest of my life with this precious gift. Nothing beats that.