Not one to back down, Cal shot back, “You’re going to come at me for being promiscuous?” He scoffed. “I’ve seen you at Spades, Hannah. You’re never with the same guy twice.”
Spades was the nightclub frequented by the Comets players, and I spent more than my fair share of time there. He was right—I got around. But only because most of the guys I picked up were either losers or a lousy lay, and I wasn’t a glutton for punishment.
All I wanted was a decent-looking guy who treated me right and was an animal in bed. Was that so much to ask? My three best friends each found one, so why couldn’t I?
Angry and a little hurt by the slut implication, I spat, “Well, at least I know they’re not only sleeping with me for my money.”
Cal stepped back suddenly as if physically struck, running a hand through his flowing blond hair. I’d hit him where it hurt, but that’s what I did when backed into a corner—I lashed out, going for maximum impact. With anyone else, I might’ve felt a sudden rush of remorse, but not with Cal. He gave as good as he got, and I wasn’t sorry for the low blow.
Regaining his bearings, he charged me, crowding my space, but I didn’t back down. His intimidation tactics might work on the ice or with weaker women, but I wasn’t scared of him. Even if he did tower over my not-so-small five-six frame. Craning my neck to meet his eye, I silently dared him to make a move he would regret.
His voice dropping to a near growl, he said, “I don’t give a damn who your daddy is. Youwillbehave yourself on the road.”
Before I could stop myself, the words flew out of my mouth. “What are you gonna do? Make me?”
With his chest pressed against mine, I could feel the rumble as it worked its way up to his throat. Those blue eyes darkened, and I swallowed uncontrollably before he promised, his voice gravelly, “If I have to.”
I heard a gasp, and it took a full minute to register that the sound had come from my own mouth. Retreating a step, I looked around, wondering if that looked as hot as it felt. Scanning the open-air canopy tent, I found it empty. Traitors.
“Where did my girls go?” I glared at Cal.
Smug, he shoved both hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “You scared them off.”
Indignant, my mouth dropped open. “Iscared them off? They’re my friends. If anything,youscared them off!”
Raking his gaze over my body from head to toe, he left me feeling exposed. How did he do that? Turning on his heel, he began to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, baby girl.”
Stunned, I watched him walk away. Then, what he said registered, and I saw red.
I wasnothis baby girl. And I didn’t take orders from him.
He really believed he could make me behave. I’d like to see him try.
Chapter 4
Cal
With the season underway,all was right with the world. When I was on the ice, everything else faded away, and I became laser-focused on the task at hand. My legs moved effortlessly, powered by muscle memory—the feel of the stick in my hand grounded me.
This was where I belonged.
During today’s practice, we focused on special teams and odd-man rushes. As a defenseman, these drills were my chance to shine. I played on both the power-play and penalty-kill units for the Comets—a privilege I earned after years of working my ass off, proving my worth.
Would I admit to tightening up my defensive skills after Hannah tore me a new one, claiming I was a liability to my team? Not in a million years.
Telling that girl she was right would only give her carte blanche to delve into more flaws in my game. I was an old dog now; I couldn’t learn new tricks.
When I was drafted, the Comets were firmly in a rebuild. It took years to put them in a position to make the playoffs, after careful player acquisitions and the development of prospects—one of them being me. Now, our talent was top-notch, and we were annual favorites to win the championship. Unfortunately, the pressure of all eyes on us didn’t help. We hadn’t yet been successful in our quest.
Playing with the best meant training with the best, and that only made us stronger. Our goalie, Reed, was a brick wall, so it took extreme skill to put a puck past him, even for us in practice. On the flip side, our forwards were accurate and creative, so they challenged him to stop their skillful shots.
My skills were honed through drills such as the one I found myself in now—the sole defenseman facing down a rush from Jaxon and Benji. My eyes watched the two of them approach as I skated backward with ease, searching for subtle clues about their plan of attack. The two of them had been linemates for years, which made them dangerous. They were perfectly in sync, seemingly able to read each other’s minds.
My job was to stop them before they got a shot off on Reed. As it often did, time slowed down, and I caught the subtle shift of Jaxon’s eyes in Benji’s direction. Patiently, I waited for him to make his move. A quick flick of his wrist, and the puck shot across the open ice to his partner. Jaxon was lightning-fast, but I was ready. My stick shot out, intercepting the puck before shooting it down the length of the ice in the opposite direction, effectively killing their offensive chance.
Jaxon groaned before he chuckled as the three of us skated to the end of the line run it again. Reaching over the bench to grab his water bottle, he squirted a long stream of liquid into his mouth.
Shaking his head, there was amusement in his tone. “I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. I’m glad you’re on our side, Cal.”
