Hat Trick (D.C. Stars, #4)

by Chelsea Curto

For the ones who fight even when they want to give up. I’m rooting for you. (And for the readers who love a hockey player that wears slutty glasses… Riley is for you)

I wish I had the balls of a mediocre white man who thinks he’s hot shit. I’d be unstoppable.

I’m not supposed to have a favorite player on the team—and I love all the guys I work with—but Riley takes the top spot.

“I’m a good boy, Lex,” he tosses back. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

The life of every party and vivacious as hell with witty comebacks and a laugh that would bring any man to his knees. And if it were me down there, I’d wear a collar and crawl if she asked me to.

“I’m going to get him skating again,” I whisper to Piper and Emmy. “Lex, I don’t⁠—” “Hockey is his whole life.” I stare at the doors leading to the patient rooms. “I’ll work with him. We’ll do it together.” I’ve always been a determined bitch. Once I put my mind to something, I don’t stop until it happens, and I’ll be damned if Riley goes down without a fight.

I’m not asking you to give me a mile, Riley. I’m not even asking for a foot.” “I hope not. I only have one now, and it would be pretty fucking rude of you to take that from me.”

“She wasn’t finished speaking,” Riley says, deathly low. The look in his eye is murderous. A shiver races up my spine when he curls his fingers into a fist. My cheeks turn bright red when he stares at my boss and tilts his head to the side. “And her name is Lexi. L-e-x-i. That’s not difficult, is it? Treat her with respect and get it right, or I’m leaving.”

The romance books I read are right: having a guy turn a little unhinged and defend your honor is sexy as hell.

Women in the past have used all sorts of phrases to describe me: cute. Sexy, but in a nerdy way. Hot as hell when I slide a blindfold over their eyes. The man of their dreams when I kiss their wrists, untying them from the ropes I like to use to keep them still while I eat them out.

There’s nothing I love more than kicking men’s asses and watching them cry.

Funny how all my good days include her.

Friends, I tell myself. Bullshit, my brain whispers back.

“I’m going to get dressed extra slow just so you can finish that chapter.” “A man after my own heart.” She winks, and I rub a hand over my chest. It feels more and more like my heart isn’t even my own anymore. It’s hers, and I think it’s always going to be hers.

“Must mean you like me.” I grab her chin and her eyes lock with mine. Her breath hitches when I say, “You have no idea, Lexi.” There’s an underlying message there. I like you so fucking much, but I also think I more than like you. Do you think you could like me too? Why can’t we give it a chance? I promise I’ll make it good for you.

“Today was a good day,” I murmur. “They’re all good days with you, Riley,” she whispers, and I hold that as close to chest as tight as I can.

“Is this our life now? In bed by eleven and reading side by side?” I ask. “There goes my youth.” “It’s the perfect night.” Riley stifles a yawn and opens his paperback. “I’ve never been a big partier or someone who likes to go out. The athlete lifestyle isn’t for me.” “You’re wasting away your mid-twenties with someone who uses retinol. That’s perfect?” “Will you stop with the self-deprecating jabs?” He pinches my side, and I squeal. “I want to be here, and I want to be here with you. Deal with it, Armstrong.”

“You did that for me?” “All of this is for you.”