Page 4 of Going All In

He wasn’t normally an ass—well, most of the time—but sparring with her was the most fun he’d had recently, when he wasn’t on the ice.

He reached out and put his hand on her arm again, ignoring the bolt of lust that went through him. Gorgeous curves and sass would always be his downfall.

“I’m sorry,” he said when she turned. Beautiful light green eyes stared up at him.

“You should be,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He put down the tray of empty glasses and held his hands up, not ready to let her get away. “I’m just curious what sport could possibly be better than hockey?”

She arched a brow and the corner of her mouth twitched up in a barely noticeable smile. “Really? Why would you care?”

“Humor me.” What was he doing?

She huffed out a breath. “Fine. If you must know, it’s tennis. I’m not much of a team sports fan.”

“Tennis? Really? Two guys running around a court, chasing a ball?”

“Hockey is a bunch of guys skating around, chasing a puck,” she fired back.

“There’s a lot more skill that goes into playing hockey than skating after a puck.”

“Right. Like getting into fights.” She shook her head. “It’s a very violent game.”

“Fights are part of it, but we don’t brawl during the entire game. Every player has to think about the play. Think about where they are in position to the guys they’re watching, or where the puck is. I bet if you watched a game or two, you’d understand how misguided you are,” he said, holding back his smile as she bristled.

Fine. He’d gone a touch further than he’d needed. Management would have his head if they heard him talking this way to someone who was potentially here to donate to the foundation, but she’d started it.

“How often do you fight during the games?” she asked.

“Only when necessary,” he replied. The lie easily fell from his lips. He’d always been a hothead. It’d gotten him into trouble time and again, as management and his agent kept reminding him. He was working on it.

Another lie.

She scoffed.

“Your friend should take you to a game. Who did you come with? A season ticket holder?”

“Actually, no. I grew up with one of your teammates, if you must know,” she said, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.

“Really? Who?”

“Hey, Darc, is this guy bothering you?” Harty called out, and Jake turned, raising a brow to his friend and linemate.

“You know her? And she still doesn’t like hockey?” Jake asked. Son of a bitch. What were the damn odds?

Harty laughed. “Yeah, this is Ally’s best friend since they were kids. I’ve tried to convince her that hockey is the best sport over the years, but she’s stubborn as hell.”

“She’s standing right here,” Darcy muttered.

“So, is he bothering you, Darc?” Harty asked again.

Shit. If this was Ally’s best friend, Harty probably treated her like a kid sister, and every player knew that thinking about how far the blush would extend on a teammates’ family member was off-limits. While he had no problem with drama on the ice, he preferred to keep it out of the locker room. No matter what other people might think of him.

“I’m sure he’s harmless,” Darcy said, fiddling with her empty wineglass.

But the way she bit her lower lip and peeked up at him told him that she wasn’t harmless. At least not to him. He fought back the urge to lean in and nibble that plump lower lip. To hear her gasp into his mouth. To see how feisty she really was.

Shit.

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