Page 79 of Puck Princess

Rachel did as she promised and kept the bourbon coming. I might be a little buzzed, but what’s the harm in that?

“I mean, I don’t know if you have to playwellto get attention. As long as you know the rules of the game. Isn’t that right, Santos?” I ask, pouring myself a beer.

Spencer’s eyes narrow. “Which game, Sharpe? The one you and I are always facing off in or the fine game of hockey? Either way, you suck.”

The guys laugh and cover their mouths. There are a few muffledooohs, but this is still within the bounds of good-natured shit talking. Only I can sense the venom in his words.

“Let’s clear the air.” Lachlan waves Spencer and I in closer. “Let’s get it all out. Whatever beef y’all have needs to be aired out so we can keep it off the ice. If the two of you hotheads learn to play together, we might win more games.”

“I don’t have any problems,” Spencer grins.

“Of course, you don’t. Daddy pays for them to go away. Is that why he’s trying to buy the Scythes? To make sure you have a bench to warm?”

Spencer’s smile slips for all of a second before he recovers, pretending to laugh it off.

Lachlan carries on, talking about the goalie for the Mohawks and his torn ACL. “We were already going to wipe the ice with them, but it’ll be a massacre if their backup is in the net.”

Spencer turns to me, talking under his breath for the first time all night. “I might have used my dad’s money to get on the team, but you’re going to need my dad’s grace if you want tostayon the team.”

I swivel my chair to face him, remaining neutral. Lance is the only other person close enough to hear anything, and he stiffens. Probably expecting a fight.

Maybe it would’ve gone that way a few days ago. But right now, Spencer looks every bit as pathetic as he is.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s more than a threat. When my dad buys the Scythes, you’ll be nothing more than last season’s wet dream.”

I hop up from my stool. Lance follows.

Spencer and I square off for a moment—just long enough for me to see the flicker of fear in his eyes. Then I smirk, shaking my head. “Not worth it.You,Santos, are not worth it.”

I walk around him, making sure our shoulders don’t even bump. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of being able to say I started a fight.

I close out my tab, feeling oddly good about this night. Callie didn’t want me to go out. I think the only reason she finally decided to spend a night at her new place is because she didn’t want to witness the aftermath of a night out with Spencer Santos. I can’t seem to be within five feet of the asshole without wanting to skin him alive.

But tonight, I’m walking away.

He wants to start shit and cause drama, but the team has had enough of it. I’m the leader the team needs, and I’m proving it right now.

As I’m pocketing my card, cheers erupt from the table behind me. I also hear Lance curse under his breath.

Still, none of it prepares me for what I find when I turn around.

Miles is standing in the doorway of Pour Boys, a wide smile on his face that I immediately want to rip off.

He’s being greeted like a war hero, clapping people on the back and shaking hands.

The only time his mood dims is when he looks up and sees me at the bar.

I don’t see anything.

Between one blink and the next, I cross the room and slam Miles into the wall. “What the fuck are you doing here, Solomon?”

He should be in jail. Or the ground. I’m not picky.

Miles must remember the way our last fight went because his throat bobs against my forearm. “I was invited.”

I’m about to ask who would be stupid enough to invite Miles when Spencer’s voice breaks through the noise.

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