“Ryder!”

“I want to have your baby!”

The security guard shooed them away from the huge hockey player.

“Did you take over the stalking from your grandmother, Dakota?” a deep voice demanded.

Rolling my eyes, I turned back to him. “You disappointed that it was an eighty-year-old woman writing you notes about sticking things up your butt?”

“Are you always this foulmouthed?” The blue eyes narrowed.

Some of the girls had phones out, live streaming my terrible decision-making skills. Ryder noticed and grabbed my arm. My breath caught as he practically carried me inside the stadium.

The doors slammed behind us, and we stood in the foyer, which was newly decorated with Ryder’s face and Icebreakers colors.

“Wow.” I whistled. “So you’re not only a prude, you’re a narcissist too.”

“Did you just roll out of bed and decide to insult me on your day off?”

“I remote work, buddy.” I tried not to be intimidated being this close to him in the foyer that the architect really should have designed to be a lot bigger if all thesemenwere going to be hanging around.

Ryder had just finished a hockey workout. His T-shirt was plastered against rippling muscles, his hair damp from a shower. Also why did he smell… not bad? Like, good. He smelled good, okay? He should smell like feet and gym socks not… like a winter forest.

“I’d hit that.”

“What?” He recoiled.

“I said I’d hit that,” I enunciated. “Yesterday I was like ‘No way,’ but I think I could put aside my absolute hatred of your team and fuck you.”

“Don’t use that word.”

“Fuck,” I said slowly. “I want to fuck you. Well, I want you to fuck me. But I will stick stuff up your butt if you really want me to.”

His eyes widened in horror.

“Don’t make that face. We should hook up.”

“Get in line,” he muttered then seemed shocked that he’d said it.

“Asshole,” I said just to needle him.

He looked guilty, then he rallied. “You’re the one who wants casual sex.”

“Now you’re slut-shaming me?” I shot at him, just to throw him off-balance.

“No!” He raised his hands defensively. “That not what I meant. That’s—I’m not—women have a right to use their bodies how they want.”

“And I want you to use mine how you want.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“No, thank you! I’m not shaming you,” he sputtered. “I just believe in being in a committed relationship before engaging in… before doing…”

“Fucking. You want to wait to fuck until you’re married? What kind of hockey captain are you?” I demanded. “Where’sthe binge drinking, the blackout-drunk sex, the bar fights over women? Half those girls out there should be preggo by now.”

“I am not like that.”He turned on me, blue eyes going dark. “I don’t treat people like objects. Lots of players use hockey as an excuse to behave badly, to put aside their morals. I don’t, and I’m offended that you’re insinuating that I do.”

“I’m not calling you immoral. I’m just calling you an uptight fucking Boy Scout.”

“I’m not that uptight. I just think people should be exclusive and at least know each other’s names. Maybe go on a date first? Old-fashioned, I know.”