Page 7 of Lace 'em Up

It’s much easier to be King Bang—the bachelor hockey player who goes through women like pairs of socks, to be the King of Banging.

Once upon a time, I tried to be something different.

Something more.

And that shit…

Well, it made me realize that I’ll only ever be King Bang, so I might as well wear the mantle, carry the scepter, and do it with aplomb.

Something that rubs this woman the wrong way.

Probably because she’s as real as they come, and I always know where I stand with her. No patience for false masks and bullshits.

So…no patience for me.

Which is fine.

I have no interest in a woman like her.

A fucking lie—even though I cling to it like it’s gospel.

Mostly because I can’t have interest in a woman like her—not just a woman who’s—who was—in a relationship…

But a woman a man keeps forever.

Inhaling, I move to my closet, yank a tee and pair of sweats out of the drawers, and bring them back to her. “Careful now,” I murmur, helping her shift her dress the rest of the way off, taking it from her and leaving the clothes beside her. “You need help getting those on?”

Please say no.

Because this woman may not like me, but…she’s fucking beautiful, and the lingerie she’s got on should be a fucking sin.

“No,” she snaps. “I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“No, Mrs. Pricklestein,” I mutter. “You’re not an invalid. You’re just bruised to hell and back.”

“What did you call me?” she snaps.

Snaps.

Something else she only does with me.

She puts herself out there to protect others, has done it over and over again, for both human and not.

Looking out for her best friend, Chrissy, when things got dicey with my teammate, Rome, and the relationship they were building.

Watching out for animals of all shapes and sizes—most recently in the form of a litter of corgi puppies and other dogs and cats she helped rescue from a hoarder house. I’ve watched her carry a spider outside and volunteer for hours at Chrissy’s rescue, helping with the other woman’s spay and release program. Hell, I’ve heard Chrissy go on about all the time Rory puts in with her own pet adoption group.

I’ve watched Rory when I was supposed to be focusing on hockey as she helped a crying and lost kiddo at the rink.

I’ve seen her lead a group of giggling and tipsy ladies from a bachelorette party at the winery when the normal—and extremely pregnant—tour guide was feeling light-headed and I was…

Picking up wine.

And not drawn to Oak Ridge Vineyards because I know this woman has an office there.

More lies.

And—

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