Page 13 of My Pucking Crush

Without another word, Luca snags the yogurt off my tray and heads out of my room, closing the door.

EIGHT

Luca

Ishould be used to it by now. Watching women flirt with Max and him flirt right back. It’s the soul-crushing consequence of having a thing for a straight guy.

I’m tempted to tell my boss to inform Coach Beck he should give this assignment to another agent on the security team. But I can’t say why. My name, my background information is fake. GM Reid and Bronwin can’t know I used to work for Belova.

And I can’t tell anyone I’m obsessed with Max.

He’ll love me backing off, though. He doesn’t want a bodyguard. No other player on the team has protection like this.

Max got it right, saying it’s antithetical for a six-foot mountain of a hockey player to have a bodyguard. Hockey is just different. They’re working-class players making decent, but not obscene salaries like football or baseball stars.

Most guys on the team are married and live quietly with their families in the suburbs. The single ones, like Max, live in high rises with doormen and locked parking garages.

A penthouse I’m apparently moving into. While I wrap my head around that one, Coach Beck shows up with the team doctor, and whenheapproves Max’s release, we’re on the move.

Walking to the elevator, I keep pace behind everyone, taking up my position in the rear watching for trouble. Knowing the bratva wants to hurt Max, my gaze sharpens for trouble. They won’t come at himhead-on again. They won’t send another woman to tempt him. The next attack will be one of stealth.

A guy on a bicycle racing by with a shiv when he’s jogging, or a car running him off the road.

A suspicious package mailed to him.

People need to see he has a bodyguard. But I can’t have Ivan Belova recognize me.

Catching my reflection in the polished elevator car, I wonder if the beard and longer hair is enough of a change to my appearance. This new assignment makes it more important than ever that I grew out the military flat top. Now my dark shaggy curls cover my ears and flop in my eyes while wearing shades. I need to keep Ivan from suspecting it’s me.

He’d never guess on his own that I’d go from his number three enforcer, doing brutal hits, to working security for a professional hockey team.

Yet, here I am.

Outside, Coach Beck instructs everyone where to go and what to do. He drives Max home to his apartment where, according to Beck, his closest teammates, Willis and Madison, are waiting for him. They’ll stay with Max while I drive back to my houseboat in Norwalk and pack up to live with the object of my obsession.

Two hours later, I arrive at the snazzy penthouse, and only Beck is still with Max. But after shaking my hand and silently wishing me luck, he takes off.

Max eyes my two suitcases and several garment bags, the color draining from his face. “How long do you plan to live here?”

“For the rest of the season, I assume.” I should probably get some kind of idea from Bronwin.

Max shakes his head. “How many suits do you have?”

“In case you didn’t notice, we wear suits to everygame, like you guys,” I answer in the same brusque tone. “For each suit, I need dress shirts, ties, and shoes. The days off I wear jeans, T-shirts, or casual sweaters, but different shoes. Oh, and PJ bottoms for midnight security checks.”

Christ, I have to shut the fuck up.

Max raises one dark eyebrow at me. “Bottoms?”

“I’m not a matching top and bottom kind of guy.” I gasp, realizing the dirty pun that just fell out of my mouth. “When I wear something to bed at all.”

Most guys sleep in the nude, just rarely do straight guys talk about it to other guys.

“I’ll show you where you can stay.” Max struts by my pile, not lifting anything up to help me, but I don’t want his help.

Plus, he’s injured.

“The bedrooms are back that way, but there’s a—”

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