Page 131 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“And why didn’t you shower after practice? That’s a little...odd,” mused Walker. “You’re usually the first in.”

“Watching my shower habits, Disney? I think that’s the ‘little odd’ thing in this conversation.”

“He did something,” Ari announced, looking me up and down and nodding. “The question is...what?”

All of them were staring at me again, their gazes a little too close to my dick for comfort.

“Hey,” I snapped. “Focus on your own dicks. Especially you, Logan.”

“He definitely did something,” commented Lincoln, completely ignoring what I’d just said.

“It’s always the grandpappies you gotta watch out for,” Walker whisper-yelled, shaking his head.

I scoffed and turned away from the idiots.

But there was a big grin on my face as I did.

I’d once told Logan that “real men had dick tattoos.” He just hadn’t believed me.

Guess I was a real man now.

Later on, Walker walked with me out to the parking lot. He kept giving me lingering side glances, so I finally raised an eyebrow and turned to him. “What’s up, Disney?”

He scoffed, as he usually did whenever anyone but Lincoln called him that nickname. “I was just wondering if Anastasia’s going to be making an appearance at the game tomorrow, and if she’ll be sitting in the Wives’ Club. Because I’ll need to let Elaine and Emily know there will be one more in the group.

I didn’t like the sound of her name coming out of his mouth, but I controlled myself.

I considered what he’d said. I’d forgotten that Walker had hired two female bodyguards to protect Olivia at games and when he couldn’t be there. The bodyguards were both built like trucks and could squat five hundred men. There was absolutely nothing to worry about when they were around. No one was getting past those women.

They were perfect.

“Count her in,” I nodded, and he smirked.

“Getting serious?” he asked teasingly, his face growing serious when I nodded.

“She’s the one,” I said before shrugging. “I just don’t think she knows it yet.”

Walker laughed. “I know all about that,” he said. “Spoiler alert, though, we always win.” He flashed me a thumbs up before heading to his truck.

I was grinning. I was going to win this. There was no doubt.

Quickening my pace, I got in my truck and drove out of the parking lot, eager to get to Anastasia’s ballet studio and get her home.

Anastasia

The day had been a disaster. Dance practice with Dallon was a nightmare. Between his lingering hands and his constant criticisms, my mind was a mess.

I wanted to quit. This big, life-altering opportunity was in front of me.

And I wanted to quit.

I was also running late for Camden’s game. The driver he’d sent had to wait at least half an hour outside the studio as Dallon made me practice fouettés over and over again before he’d let me leave.

“I’m so sorry,” I told the driver as I slipped into the town car. I hadn’t had time to dry my hair or reapply my makeup in my hurry to get to the car, and I ran my fingers through my hair self-consciously as I glanced in the rear-view mirror. I needed to throw it up in a bun.

“Not a problem, Miss,” she said, as she shot me a bright smile.

She thankfully didn’t talk to me much during the drive. I tried to regroup and push away the stress of practice, but it was difficult. By the time I reached the arena for Camden’s game, my nerves were still frayed.

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