Page 115 of Snap Shot

When Theron Olsen gets amped up, it's like Thor and the Hulk had a love child but dropped it on its head more than a few times. Anger management is the only way to keep collateral damage under control.

“Professional fucking athletes, my ass.” The grouch grumbles. “I'm too old for this shit. If I don't suffer an aneurysm by the end of the season, it'll be a fucking miracle.”

“You're gonna be fine,” I affirm. “They're probably stressed and taking it out on each other.”

Jaeg snorts.

“They'll get over it on the ice. We're family. Brothers fight. Brothers make up.”

Not that I'd know what that's like. I've got a Delaney. She's up my ass about some goddamned strawberries.

Delaney:Did you get the strawberries yet?

Me:It's fucking 8 a.m., Del.

Delaney:Get your ass moving! The kids and I worked our fingers sore to pick you the last batch of the season.

Delaney:Ungrateful shit. I hope they rotted on the way.

Me:Aww, you're so sweet

Me:Go fuck yourself.

Delaney:Sure thing. That's Seth's favorite.

Me:Morning. Ruined.

I forget all about my disgusting sibling upon seeing the darling in my bed, stretching her arms over her head and pointing her toes, stifling a high-pitched whine. Cutie. Indi winks at me with a sleepy smile as I approach. I rip the sheets off, ignoring her protest and yanking her out by one arm and the opposite leg. “Hey!”

Over my shoulder she goes, like an unwieldy burlap sack of cranberries. I grab my gear bag in my free hand on the way to the terrace and plop her into a patio chair.

“What the…?”

I squat to unzip the bag. Indi's face warps with repulsion as the stench hits. “A deal's a deal, Davé.”

After dropping shoulder pads over her head, I secure shin guards to her legs, slide gloves over her shaky hands and slap her helmeted head for good measure. She's speechless, gasping and heaving for clean air. Her gagging now isn't nearly as satisfying as earlier in the morning. I set a timer on my phone. “Five minutes should do the trick.”

Indi ends up so sweaty she has to shower again. Her fist knocks into the glass before she wipes away the steam, pointing at me with a feisty curl of her lip. “You're so paying for that, Radek!” The mirror in front of me reflects her making a slicing motion across her throat with a thumb.

Shooting her a glance over my shoulder, shaving cream topping my cheeks, I wave my razor in her direction, pretending not to hear the threat. “Press your tits against that glass for me.”

“In your dreams!” she yells over the water stream.

“In my dreams, they're pressed against my dick,” I mumble, pulling the blade under my jaw.

She turns off the water and pokes her head through the shower entrance. “What?”

I shrug and feign innocence. “I didn’t say anything.” The words stop when her wet, naked frame steps out.Fuck.

She catches me staring with my mouth gaping and glares. Indi wraps herself in one of the large towels from the bathroom linen closet.

“Goodbye,” she sings, backing away.

“Goodbye?” No way I'm letting the little smart-ass leave like that.

Scrambling to finish shaving without cutting my jugular wide open and welcoming an early, bloody death, I rinse my face and chase after her with grabby hands, slipping on the floor in the trail of her wet footsteps. He-Man swings around like a drunk, blind bastard, slapping my thighs with every hurried stride. I catch up and lift her onto the kitchen island, keeping her in a firm grasp against my bare torso.

She knocks the side of a fist into my hardened chest and wiggles her hips to get free. “I need to get dressed.” Indi's uncooperative flailing knocks over a basket, covering part of the counter with rolling strawberries. “Shit. Sorry.”

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