Offside (Rules of the Game, #1)

by Avery Keelan

“Says the guy who kept giving up pucks in practice. I’ve seen coupons that save more than you.”

But goalies weren’t known for being level-headed; they were their own special brand of crazy.

one for too many men on the ice—because apparently, in addition to forgetting how to skate, they’d also forgotten how to count.

“The terminal is closed. Indefinitely. Lack of qualified pilots.” “Oh, I think you’d find me highly qualified.”

“No, for sleeping with the enemy.” “I don’t think literal sleeping counts.”

“You are exasperating,” she muttered, still facedown. “Back atcha.”

“Give me your phone.” “Why?” Bailey pulled away and hugged her phone against her body, eyeing me suspiciously. “So I can look at porn, James. What do you think? So I can put my number in it.”

“Like I said, half the team would throw me into a skate sharpener if they had the chance. Maybe three-quarters. Coach Miller might even get in on that action.”

Maybe it was a little pitiful to be home alone on a Saturday night, but the solitude was a welcome reprieve from the interrogation I was sure to face in the near future.

“Breakups aren’t contagious, Amelia. You can still hang out with me.”

Then it hit me: Luke was the mean girl of the Bulldogs. He was Regina George. On skates.

Six a.m. was too early to be awake, let alone on the ice.

It involved a raw steak and male nudity. I didn’t want to know any more than that.

But we weren’t a touchy-feely family by any stretch; we barely celebrated birthdays.

Bailey: You’re crushing us in the standings. Gonna need you to throw a couple games at this rate. Chase: Sure, I have a price. It’s probably not even that high.

But maybe an exorcism would help break your losing streak.

“If I throw a stick, will you leave?”

“I came over to say hi. What’s your problem?” Other than the fact that you exist? Nothing. Nothing at all.

Wednesdays were going to be the equivalent of Groundhog Day combined with Friday the 13th. An endless loop of unpleasantry with him.

SOS? Silk Or Satin?

Bailey: Speaking of the front door, can you do me a favor? Chase: What kind of favor? Bailey: Not that kind. Chase: Dammit.

He flashed me a smile that did something decidedly non-platonic to my body.

“You pick up a part-time job, Carter? Always good to have options for when you don’t make the league.” “Yeah,” Chase deadpanned. “I applied to be a giant dickbag first, but they told me you already filled the position.”

The look on Morrison’s face tonight? Awesome. Getting to spend time with James? Even better. Kissing her? Fuck me, I’m in over my head.

“The salted caramel is almost as good as a blowjob,” Chase said. I shot him a look. “TMI, Carter.”

“You want to do chick stuff with me?” “Why not? My life is testosterone overload most of the time. It gets old. Plus, guys are smelly. Dallas after a game could be a biological weapon.”

“I’ll pass on the mani-pedis, but I’m down for a pillow fight any day of the week. Preferably in our underwear.”

“You’re cool. And that dude’s got about as much personality as a carton of white milk.”

Plus, fuckboy struck me as a little extreme. I did have some standards. They were just … broad.

In fact, I’ll give Morrison an extra hit next time we play the Bulldogs. I’ll crush him for you. Like a bug.

“If that happens, I’ll have bigger problems than the lack of a degree. I’m basically unemployable in any other capacity.” Chase raised his dark eyebrows. “Can you picture me wearing khakis and working in a cubicle, James?”

If I was going to sit through a movie, it either had to be funny or have lots of car chases and explosions. Or, well, be a naked movie.

“I like her too. Can we keep her?” Shiv gave me a puppy dog face.

Somehow, salads always tasted better when someone else made them.

“But no one wants to read a sports article written by me. My knowledge starts and ends with the fact that the ball goes over the net.”

Good job, Bailey. Geek out on sports. Guys loved that. I had already opened Pandora’s penalty box, though, so it was too late.

“You ready to fraternize with the enemy?”

Hygiene was important, after all. Not because I would be kissing him again or anything. But, you know … just in case.

“You just want me out of the shirt.” Well, that was also true.

I wanted her so bad it hurt—literally—but more importantly, I wanted it to be right. Until then, I was going to compile a very long, very detailed list of all the things I would do to her in the future.

Plus, I had a hunch I could corrupt her a little if I was patient, and that would be well worth the wait.

Maybe I was going soft. Except I was hard as hell and about to end up with a major case of blue balls.

“Who are your other favorite people?” “It’s mostly you, I guess. Not a big fan of humankind in general.”

“Well, now you’re stuck with me.” “Thank Gretzky for that.”

“I don’t want anyone else, James.” “You don’t?” “Not even a little,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” “Yeah,” she said. “Think so.”

If I was this loopy now, I was going to be straight-up cracked out after that happened.

The number of chicks who would love to tie Dallas Ward down—both figuratively and literally—could line a city block.

Chase: Great. I’ll even throw in an autographed picture of me as a belated birthday gift. Bailey: I’m a lucky girl.

“If you need me, I’ll be at home dying of embarrassment. Tell my parents to get a nice headstone. Gray marble, something like that.”

“It’s just really hard to get me off.” “I’m up for the challenge.” He grinned. “Literally.”