Slap Shot (D.C. Stars, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

I’m particularly good with knives. See you soon, Hudson Hayes.

Will do. Thanks, hockey guy. Hudson You’re welcome, knife girl.

“You said your favorite color was green and I—” I lift the dress at my hip, gesturing at my ensemble. “I thought it was festive.” “When I said green, I meant that exact shade. You in that outfit, really.” His cheeks are flushed, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “No other variation is ever going to do.”

As if I wouldn’t go willingly. As if I wouldn’t fucking crawl or run or climb a mountain to get there.

“Why? I can take it. I can take anything you give me.”

“Next time you come to a game, don’t show up in someone else’s jersey.”

“Golden Girl?” “Yeah.” He gestures around the kitchen, not blinking at the catastrophe surrounding us. “You’re the brightest thing in this room. The brightest thing in every room.”

I’ll make sure to talk you through it

“Because y’all are mine.” I tuck a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “And I protect what’s mine.”