Page 35 of My Pucking Crush

We reach the hotel, and I struggle to keep my eyes open. The game against Houston was brutal.

Madison sat next to me again on the bus while Luca sat with a guy whose name I don’t know. No big deal until this dude’s shoulder bumps his and burning jealousy snakes up my spine.

The travel manager goes into the hotel first to collect our keycards. Once he comes back and hands them out, the bus moves to a private entrance, and we file out.

In professional hockey, we’re famous and anonymous at the same time. When you play team sports, you accept this. Sure, I get a little more glory because as the team captain, I’m on the ice first and exit it last.

Exhausted, I follow Madison, not paying attention to Luca. I don’t feel threatened. I’m surrounded byseventeen bruisers, coaches, trainers, and the team’s fully armed security staff.

Lance Reynolds, the goalie, Madison, and I amble down the hall looking for our rooms. We all stop at room 610, where Madison and Reynolds both reach for the keypad.

“Dude, you in 610?” Madison asks Reynolds, who nods. “Ryan, guess you’re bunking with someone else this time.”

Snapping to attention, I look at my card sleeve. 630.

“What the hell?” Down the hall, posted next to a door I assume reads 630, a dark, suited familiar figure with broad shoulders waits.

Luca.

No.

No. No. No...

EIGHTEEN

Luca

Achuckle rumbles in my chest, watching Max figure out we’re sharing a room. His face is priceless. Only, he’s stomping angrily toward me. I’ve seen that look in a man’s eyes.

Just when I think Max shares the same attraction I feel, it all circles the drain, knowing he’ll never be open about what he feels for me.

Physical or otherwise.

But everyone in the hall is watching Max. The idea of a showdown tightens my gut. I don’t care to get yelled at by everyone’s favorite teammate. Most of the players don’t take notice of the security staff. They don’t know our names, and that’s by design. We protect the team from the shadows and let them be stars.

Ari Kelsey, the tour manager, who handed me my key earlier and gave me the heads-up about the arrangements, steps into Max’s path. He’s in charge on road trips as far as off-ice issues.

“Coach requested the room arrangements,” Kelsey says to Max, and then glances at the crowd watching us. “Guys, get in your rooms and get some sleep. It’s late,” he barks, sounding like a cop.

Nothing to see here.

A sea of faces gives us one last glimpse. After several noticeable shrugs, the whole team disappears into their rooms.

“This is bullshit,” Max says through gritted teeth.

Kelsey glances from me to Max. “Isn’t he living with you?”

“That’s not the point.” Max exhales.

“I don’t see the problem then,” Kelsey argues.

I wasn’t thrilled when Kelsey mentioned this to me earlier, and knew Max would hate it.

“Ari,” I say to interject. “I didn’t request this. Just get me another room, please.”

“There aren’t more rooms. There’s a damn jewelry show in their ballroom tomorrow. They’re full up.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Next time, give me a heads up. This looks suspicious as hell. Like there’s such a crazy threat out there against the team that their captain needs 24/7 protection.”

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