Page 31 of A Little Complicated

A surge of adrenaline pulses through me when the asshole curses my name as he darts back to the blue line, and my team takes control of the puck once more.

Back and forth, we play the game when Mav catches me grinning from ear to ear near the net. “You like this?”

“Winning?” I chirp. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. You should try it sometime.”

His mouth twitches, but I can’t decide if it’s in amusement or derision.

“Something funny?” I ask.

“Nah. Although I gotta say, you look kind of cute in your gear. Bet it gets Archer all hot and bothered.”

He justhadto mention Archer, didn’t he? Here. In front of everyone. I don’t think any of the guys heard him. They’re all busy at the other end of the rink. It doesn’t really matter, anyway. Because even if they did overhear his comment, to everyone else, it isn’t a dig. It isn’t a problem or an odd remark. Iamwith Archer. As far as everyone else is concerned, he’s my one and only.

If only they knew.

I swallow back the acid on my tongue and hum, “Mm-hmm.”

Mav skates around my goal, making me feel like an owl as my head swivels to follow his movements while my blood begins to boil.

So calloused. So…indifferent. I hate it.

Sensing how close he is to getting under my skin, he prods, “What? Is your sex life off-limits, Opie? Because if it is, you probably shouldn’t have chosen my brother to fuck in the first place.”

My gloved fingers tighten around my stick as he continues circling me.

“You’re right,” I reply. “I don’t know what I’m shielding you from. It’s not like you actually care.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re right about the gear too,” I continue. “Archer’s quite the fan. You should see us role-play when I’m in it.”

“As long as he doesn’t slip one past the goalie, Opie.” He winks, but I don’t miss the slight shift in his tone or the way his jaw tics.

“Mav,” Everett yells. “You playin’ or what?”

Maverick skates off to the center of the rink. One of the defenders on Maverick’s team steals the puck from Everett, chipping it off the board. Maverick catches it, crosses our blue line, and charges straight toward me. I squat low, keeping my elbows spread wide, trying to cover as much of the goal as my small frame can handle when he lifts back his stick and shoots. Whooshing hits my ear, followed by the familiar clash of the puck against ice. I look down at my skates, finding the round disc in the goal cage behind me.

Fuck.

“You do look cute, though,” Maverick muses.

Slapping the puck at him, I grit out, “Again.”

Cameron and Griffin head to the center line, and in an instant, Cameron steals the puck and passes it to Maverick, who slaps the puck into my net. My face grows hot with anger, and I slam my stick against the edge of the goal as Griffin skates toward me, keeping his voice low. “You okay?”

“What the fuck is Maverick doing? He’s a defender—”

“You’ve been playing with Mav forever, Lia,” Griffin mutters. “You really think he doesn’t know your weak spots?”

My nostrils flare, but I don’t argue with him. He’s right. Of course, Mav knows exactly where my weak spot is. Both on and off the ice. And he just showed it to half of LAU’s starting line.

At least none of my opponents are in the room.

Look at the bright side, right?

Even so, annoyance simmers beneath my skin. Scratch that. It’s licking at my core, leaving me hot and bothered and way more pissed off than I have any right to be. It’s only a stupid game. And you know what? I’m done playing for today. Without a backward glance, I rip off my helmet, tuck it under my arm, and head into the locker room.

“Aw, come on, Opie!” Maverick calls. “We were just having fun!”

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