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“That’s because you’re prickly, not because you’re a woman. You’re my little cactus.”
If she’s the sunshine, I’m the storm cloud. One of us is the people-pleaser and the other is the people-avoider. Two total opposites who found a friendship that works.
Maverick is kind of like a puppy. He’s full of energy and bounces around everywhere. Everyone loves him, and the work he does for charitable organizations is admirable. He also wears his captain hat well. It’s why he’s still here, even through all the losing crap: he believes in these guys, and he loves DC.”
The assurance that even when everything feels overwhelming, there are still people who believe in me.
A full-on scream like I’m in one of those theme park haunted houses and someone in a Michael Meyers jumpsuit is chasing me. What the hell?
Hudson says, sitting next to me. I swear there’s a drop of drool hanging in the corner of his mouth—the man loves food more than he loves hockey. “Should be a good time.”
I’d be shocked if I didn’t have heart eyes right now. Athletic women are my goddamn kryptonite, and this one clearly knows her way around a gym.
“It’s a shame it’s only going to be ninety-nine percent effective now. The only thing I want to do with you, pretty boy, is kick your ass on the ice,” she whispers. I swallow and try to get my bearings. She’s so close, and I fucking love it. “You think I’m pretty?” “You would only hear that part, wouldn’t you?”
“You’re Emerson Hartwell?” I ask. “But you’re a—” Her eyes narrow, and heat flickers behind the green. It’s like her claws are at the ready, waiting for a fight. “Please, finish that sentence.”
Hudson Hayes is a former all-American and a Frozen Four champion. He has two rescue dogs, and he spends almost all his time on social media posting about the local shelter where he volunteers.
Hartwell’s hockey skills are on a different planet, and I think I might be a little bit in love with her. I’ve never seen anyone play like that, and I have no fucking clue how she’s not already on an NHL roster.
“Oh, hell. I can already tell she’s going to be my new favorite person.” “You’re not allowed to gang up on me.” “Why not? It’s so much fun.”
Seconds later, Maven Wood, Dallas’s fiancée and one of my favorite people in the world, appears in the living room.
You know I enjoy staying out late with women I won’t see again and fu—” “Don’t you dare finish that sentence in front of my daughter.” Dallas glares at me. “Or I will break your fingers.”
Grant Everett, a five-foot-ten guy who barely looks legal to drink, asks if I could sign a towel for his sister after practice. I’m so flustered by the number three pick in last year’s NHL draft wanting my autograph, I miss my mouth when I try to take a sip of water
A smile—the tiniest, faintest smile I’ve ever seen—pulls at her lips, and I’m the proudest motherfucker in the world. I want to set off a confetti cannon. Hang a banner from the rafters of the Civic Center that says I MADE EMERSON HARTWELL SMILE. Put it on a T-shirt and wear it around town.
That earns me another half smile from her, and I want to collect them all. Shove them in my pocket and keep them for myself.
Emerson snorts, and something sharp slices through me at the sound. I don’t like that he’s making her laugh. I don’t like that she thinks he’s funny, and I liked it better when it was just the two of us.
Cool. Composed. Not giving a shit about what’s said to her. It rolls off her like waves, and I wish I had the ability to be so nonchalant—I’m over here gearing up for a fight.
“He’ll drop everything to be Uncle Mav. I think of all his accolades, that’s the one he’s most proud of.”
“Sorry,” I tell the blonde with a grin. “I’m kind of in the middle of something with my baby’s mother right now. The kid is half alien, half potato, and we’re trying to figure out where they got these genes from.” “Ooookay,” the woman says, and she wrinkles her eyebrows. “That’s weird. I didn’t know you had kids.” “Are we classifying tiny extraterrestrials as kids? I guess we should.
“Says the man who has two million Instagram followers who go crazy when you post a shirtless photo of you and your dogs.”
Half the arena is women, which isn’t anything new. What’s different are the signs and jerseys they’re holding. None of them are for me or the boys. They’re all for Emerson.
I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.
Maybe I should save you in my phone as that from now on. Me What am I right now? Bane of my Existence Redheaded Assassin. LOL.
Hudson I read romance books. Easy E The fuck? You do? Hudson How else are you supposed to learn what women want in a relationship?
Redheaded Assassin What is this? Liam A group chat that goes off at all hours of the day and night. Welcome to hell. *Liam has left the chat* *Redheaded Assassin has left the chat* *Easy E has added Liam and Redheaded Assassin to the chat*
“The things that make us happy are never stupid.
The woman has more walls up than a castle. She’s determined to keep people out, but I’m dead set on getting in.
He laughs and brushes pieces of blonde hair out of his eyes. “You know my away game tradition consists of croissants from local bakeries and checking out bookstores.”
“You’re maddening. Impossible to read.” He touches my cheek. Drags his finger down my jaw with exquisite care. “The most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“But I’d like you a whole lot more if you got on your knees like a good boy and showed me you know how to use your tongue and fingers for something less annoying than running your mouth. If not, I have no problem making you sit in a chair and watch while I get off from eight inches of silicone.”
“You think I’m pretty?” I ask, taking a line from his playbook. “Nah.” He breaks into another grin, and there’s a pang in the center of my chest. Between my legs, too. “I think you’re fucking gorgeous.”
I want to hear her say my name like that every day for the rest of my life.
“No one’s ever made you come like this because you were with boys before. I’m a man, and I told you I like to eat. Now fucking sit.”
His grin is stunning, a burst of joy that explodes into a thousand colors across his face. I’ve never seen something so beautiful.
“Do you think this place has olives?” “If they don’t, I brought some.” Maverick digs around his black coat and pulls out a glass jar. I stare at the jar then up at him. “Where did you get those? Do you carry olives in your pocket?”
“You took a call from another guy while you’re in bed with me. I had to remind you who filled you up three nights ago. When were you going to tell me you’re fucking someone else?” His lips ghost down my neck. He sucks on the spot on my shoulder that drives me wild, and I lean against him. “And love? Emerson Hartwell. Who are you?”
“Did you hear that, Lex? The girls are coming out tonight. Will you come too?” “Say please,” she says, and I swear I see hearts in Grant’s eyes. “And maybe I’ll think about it.” “Please come.” He drops to his knees in the aisle, and Hudson steps over him to get to his seat, shaking his head.
look over my shoulder and see Grant talking Lexi’s ear off. Two rows back from them, Riley watches their conversation with hunched shoulders, and I want to give him a hug.
I don’t know when he sat down, and he’s watching us with a tense jaw and a flicker of irritation behind his eyes. I can’t believe the guys got him to come out tonight,
“I’ve got it.” He cuts me off gruffly and stands up, towering over us with his six-three, two-hundred-pound frame. The man is a freaking brick wall. “You want something to eat, Pipsqueak?” “What?” She blinks and her mouth pops open. “Did you just make up a nickname for me? I thought you weren’t capable of human emotions. Just twenty-four-seven grumpiness.” She slaps a hand over her mouth and her cheeks turn even redder. “Oh my god. Pretend I never said that.” Liam’s lips quirk, the hint of a smile on his face, and he holds out his hand.
“Is there something you need to share, Emmy? A reason why the notorious playboy and star right winger hasn’t been spotted with a woman in months and is sending fancy cars to the apartment?”
“There’s a note from Maverick.” Lexi grabs the card sitting on the small table to her left and clears her throat before reading it aloud. “‘To the four best women in the league—thank you for all you do. You deserve your name to be shouted from the rooftops.’”
What you wear on the outside isn’t going to change what’s on the inside, and that’s a beautiful woman.”
To find someone who wants to keep me—not Maverick Miller the hockey player, but Maverick Miller, the fuckup kid without a family who tells jokes so no one knows he sometimes feels dead inside.
I never really felt like I had a home. But with Emmy next to me, I think home is wherever she is. A place I’d like to stay forever.
“What?” Hudson asks from my left. “Who put a finger on her?” “Someone hurt Emmy?” Ethan pulls off his gloves. “Who the fuck was it?” “Hell, no. We ride at fucking dawn!” Grant yells, and Seymour pats his shoulder.
“If he comes within four feet of the goal, I’ll shove my stick down his throat,” Liam says, and from him, it’s the equivalent of a love poem.
But guess what? She’s mine now, motherfucker, and I’m not going to let you disrespect her anymore.” My fist connects with his teeth, and I laugh when he whimpers in pain. “You want more? I can keep going.”
