The Pucking Wrong Rookie (Pucking Wrong #5)

by C.R. Jane

“Just thought she needed some snacks and a jersey. She’s looking a little out of place in the crowd.”

“Are your pickup lines always this bad?” “Not always,” I said, shrugging. “But I figured I’d start slow. Give you time to fall in love with me.”

If she wouldn’t date me, I would hire her. I’d pay whatever it took to make sure she didn’t have time for any other clients. For as long as it took… Until she fell in love with me.

“Don’t touch my rookie again.”

“Simppppp,” he singsonged, and I scoffed, because Walker was probably over there nutting in his pants right now at the display Lincoln had just put on. Why wasn’t he getting crap? But also…yes, I was possibly Lincoln’s simp, as well.

“What if I can’t ever give you everything, what if—what if they took too much of me? And I can’t ever get it back?”

“Then I’ll love what’s left of you.” I watched as the words sank into her skin. “I’ll love whatever you can give me, and it will be enough. Because, Sloane,” I murmured, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Even a single piece of you is worth more than anything anyone else could give me.”

“I want you,” he said roughly. “I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I want you more than hockey, more than money…more than fucking air. Tell me I can finally have you, Sloane.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

“Now you let yourself love me and trust me to catch you,” he responded, reaching up to smooth a piece of hair from my face. “Okay, Logan.”

“Then let me show you. Let me show you what you deserve. Let me take care of you—take care of everything.”

“Yes, Logan York. I’m falling in love with you.” The words echoed in my ears, and I wasn’t ashamed at all as a tear slipped down my face. “Fucking finally, Calloway,”

“And now you’re free,” I said, my voice low and rough. “It’s over, Sloane. You’re done. No one gets to decide what happens to you ever again.”

“You’re free,” I whispered again, my voice breaking. “You’re mine, but only because you want to be.”

Walker had this serious look on his face, which immediately made me suspicious. “I’m filing a complaint.” “What?” I asked. “Your son,” he started, his voice low and mock-serious. “He has been giving my daughter the look.”