Page 2 of Dirty Pucker

I tell him no problem and try to keep my expression neutral. I’ve been told I have resting psycho face. Probably from all the years of trying to look intimidating on the ice.

Skyler’s cheery smile remains, so I’ll take that as a sign that I don’t look like a serial killer.

“We’re all thrilled to have you join the team,” he says.

I almost laugh. That’s textbook public relations speak, which makes sense because he’s the assistant to Alanna, the head of the Bashers PR department. He has to say shit like that. But I am one thousand percent certain that none of the players are happy I’m here.

But I was a good trade prospect and was flexible in my contract negotiation, and that made me an appealing player to take on.

Skyler looks at me, that megawatt smile still in place. “Shall we?”

He pushes open the door and I follow him inside. All the guys are in the middle of throwing on their gear while talking and laughing. They’re not even looking at us.

“Hey, fellas! Can I get your attention for a moment?” Skyler hollers.

The entire room turns to look at Skyler and me standing there. Their gazes focus on me. A half-second later, every player on the Bashers roster is glaring at me.

“I’d like you all to welcome Del Richards. He’s come all the way from Nashville to join us as the new center for the team.”

Skyler pats my shoulder, smiling at me, then back at the team. I’d laugh if this weren’t so fucking uncomfortable. This guy’s oblivious optimism is impressive.

All the muscles in my neck and shoulders tighten. This is exactly what I thought would happen, but still. It sucks to know that everyone on my new team fucking hates me…even though I deserve it.

I nod once as I glance at everyone. They all look like they want to kick the shit out of me.

“Let’s give Del a warm Denver welcome, okay?” Skyler says in a cheery voice. No one says a word. They just keep silently death-glaring me.

Skyler leads me across the room to an empty locker…right next to Xander Williams, the star center of the Bashers.

Fuck.

He’s the guy I’m certain hates me the most out of everyone on the team. And for good reason.

I think back to just a couple of months ago when our teams played each other. We got into a fight after I taunted him about a sex tape of him and my ex that some hacker leaked without their permission.

My stomach churns. I’ve done my fair share of fucked-up things on the ice. I’ve said a lot of shitty stuff. That was the worst though.

Shame heats me under the hoodie I’m wearing when I think about what I said…and how Xander accused me of leaking the sex tape.

A familiar sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. It’s the same sick feeling I felt that day when he assumed that I did it. He actually thought I was capable of doing something so gross, so low.

And that’s when I realized what an utter piece of shit I was—Iam.

That sick feeling burrows deeper. I don’t want to be like that anymore.

Skyler leaves me and heads across the room. “Have a good practice, guys!” he says in that upbeat tone before walking out the door.

No one says a word. They just continue putting on their gear.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Xander peering over at me.

It feels like a million tiny knives are stabbing into my skin. Fuck, this is uncomfortable. I’d honestly rather he just punch me. That’s better than this unspoken tension that’s as thick as smoke in the air.

When I finish putting on my skates, I look up at him standing over me, scowling.

“Welcome to the team, asshole,” he mutters before walking off.

Everyone else glares at me and follows him to the ice. I wait a few seconds before I join them for practice.

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