Page 66 of Puck Princess

“So she shotguns a drink she doesn’t like and then wants to dance with you?” I look from him to Dax. “Sounds like Heath has game to me.”

“Just wait.” Dax sniggers, letting me know he knows something I don’t.”

Heath rolls his eyes. “As she was hauling my ass to the dance floor—I don’t dance, by the way—she says,I guess you’ll have to do.”

Dax cackles while the rest of us let out a hiss of low whistles.

Lance shakes his head and passes the puck to Heath. “Yeah, that’s rough man.”

“Okay, so after a cruel line like that, you obviously didn’t get laid,” Dax says. “Did you at least get some action on the dance floor since the gal had just inhaled a cocktail? Jason was bartending last night, and he always pours heavy.”

“Oh, I got laid.” Heath says, smacking the puck between Dax and Lance. Neither of them goes for it, though, and it hits the goal dead center. We’re all too shocked.

“How?” Kason asks.

Heath raises both hands and smiles like a kid that just got a gold star on a spelling test. “While we were dancing, she said I have nice hands.”

“Nice hands?” Dax skids to a stop in front of him, inspecting his palms. “That’s all it took? Nice hands?”

“Who has nice hands?” We all turn to see Santos skating out on the ice.

“Your mom.” Dax retrieves the puck and smacks it in Spencer’s direction. He stops it dead.

“You’re late,” I say flatly.

Spencer pulls his eyes from Dax, looks at me with a lightning fast glance, and then fires the puck at me.

If he was trying to catch me off guard, he’ll have to work harder than that. I flick it to Heath.

“I was a little late because I was getting the details for a party we are all going to.”

“A party is not an excuse to be late to practice, Santos,” I bark out.

But he ignores me and pulls out his phone. A couple seconds later, all of our phones buzz in a group text. He looks at me with a lazy smile. “It is when it has to do with team PR.”

“The Jaguar?” Kason asks, reading the text with an arched eyebrow.

“New club in town. My Dad got bored and thought, why the hell not? And you boys are lucky because he wants our team to be the face of it.”

“Rodger Santos is opening a nightclub and wants us to be the theme?” Lachlan asks, but he’s smiling.

In fact, everyone seems hyped on the idea.

Except me.

“Unless he’s writing me a check for promoting his lame-ass club, count me out.” I think about it for a second. “Actually, even if he is writing me a check. No thanks.”

“It’s mandatory.” Spencer grins. “For press purposes. Coach signed off on it.”

Spencer’s daddy can fuck with my wake-up calls and buy his way into the Scythes’ marketing department, it seems. The little rat is scrappy.

Spencer skates into the center of the circle. “Now that I’m here, why don’t we start real practice?”

I pull my helmet off. “I’m out. I have an appointment with Callie.”

“Cool. Dip on everyone again. I’ll lead, then,” Spencer calls out, and I stop skating, slowly turning around.

“Practice started an hour ago,” I remind him. “And just like you, I’m busy. Coach signed off on it. It’s mandatory, if you will.”

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