Page 59 of Pucking Revenge

Smiling, I slap the table in front of me. “Come on, I need you totally focused on this. When you’re doing your visualizations, do not visualize a single puck going through those thick, beautiful thighs of yours.”

“Thick, beautiful thighs, huh?” He sets his forearms on the table. “Is this from another one of your books?”

We’re beaming at one another now. In our own little corner at the back of the diner, I’m the happiest I’ve been in who knows how long.

“Pfft. Work with me here.”

He leans forward again, ducking his head a little. “Okay, Sar. But for the record, I never visualize any puck making it into my net.”

Satisfied with his answer, I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “Good.”

Pushing his lips to one side, he regards me, studying every inch of my face. “That’s all? Good? Ya gonna tell me why you want a shutout tonight?”

I lean in close, dropping my forearms to the table to match his posture. “Because,” I whisper, tamping down that glee again, “then you’ll be forced to give me an orgasm the night before every game.”

TWENTY-ONE

BROOKS

“Welcome to the jungle,” War mouths along with Axl Rose, spinning to snatch up his compression shirt.

We’re in the locker room, getting ready for the game, our game-day playlist in full swing now.

Daniel, who’s playing an air guitar, falls to his knees, head banging as he goes.

The laughter that escapes me echoes even over the earsplitting music. This is exactly what I need to get me out of the funk I’ve been in—my boys. Coach normally leaves us alone while we suit up, but he’ll be in here soon enough to give his pregame talk.

I can only guess he’ll pull me aside and give me hell after the sounds Sara made against his bedroom wall last night. A chuckle breaks through me when I’m struck with a memory of the look on his face when he stepped inside the diner this morning. For an instant, he lit up, but just as quickly, his bright expression fell. Probably when he realized I wasn’t wearing a damn suit. Then the look went murderous. That was the moment he noticed that I wasn’t alone in the booth he and I normally occupy. He turned right around and stormed out, leaving Sara unaware of the entire encounter.

Maybe it’s wrong, but knowing he was uncomfortable fills me with a sense of satisfaction. My goal is to make him as uncomfortable as possible until he has no choice but to leave. As the Guns N’ Roses song comes to an end, every guy in the room starts snapping. We all know precisely what comes next.

Not yet in his skates, but already donning his uniform and socks, Aiden jumps up onto the bench and starts his a cappella version of Flo Rida’s “My House.” Like he does with any song he sings, Aiden comes up with his own lyrics, and he raps the words rather than singing them.

“Welcome to the Bolts’ house

Brooks will take the net now

My wingers never slow down

War will take you out

Welcome to the Bolts’ house

Parker gonna show you how

We got the best defense now,

and then War gonna take you out

Sink the puck in the net, I like it wet.

Block the puck, Saint, we are the best

Wipe the floor with the other team

Yeah, you know the fans will scream

Gravy’s in the back

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