Page 9 of Dirty Pucker

I try and fail not to stare at her. But I can’t help it. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

She rests her palm on her stomach as she chuckles.

I frown at her, confused. “What’s so funny?”

She stops laughing, her smile softer now as it plays across her lips. “There’s no way you’re an asshole.”

Her tone is teasing and playful. My heart thuds faster in my chest.

I’m not used to this—to people looking at me the way Ingrid is looking at me right now. Like she genuinely enjoys talking to me. Like she’s enjoying being playful with me and teasing me.

I feel the corner of my mouth curve up. “You just met me three minutes ago. How can you be so sure?”

Her gaze still on me, she bites back a smile.

Fuck, that’s cute.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I’ll tell you tomorrow when you come to my office for our meeting.”

I watch her as she starts to walk backward toward the bar, mesmerized by her boldness, her sweetness, her easy confidence.

She flashes that gorgeous smile once more. “It was nice meeting you, Del.”

She disappears inside the bar before I can say anything. For a moment, I stand there and soak in the most enjoyable chat I’ve had with someone in a long time. I finally start walking to my car parked down the street, my head spinning after just one conversation with Ingrid Thompson.

As I drive home to my apartment, I catch myself smiling. And then I realize that I can’t remember the last time I smiled this hard, for this long. And I can’t wait to talk to her again.

Chapter 4

Del

Istand at the closed door of Ingrid’s office, about to knock, but I stop myself when I hear someone singing.

That’s Ingrid’s voice singing along to some pop song playing softly in the background. I smile.

She’s really fucking cute.

And then I halt that thought dead in its tracks.

She’s also the cousin of your teammate, who hates you. And she’s the social media manager for the team, which means you shouldn’t be thinking she’s cute or hot or be interested in her. At all.

It’s not like there are hard-and-fast rules about who hockey players can and can’t date. But I’m the new guy that everyone on the team hates. They’d hate me even more if I tried to get with the social media girl.

I think about what Coach Porter said to me yesterday after practice.

If you’re interested in playing for this team long-term, you need to clean up your act.

He meant my attitude on the ice and my fighting habit, not dating. But still. I need to stay out of trouble now that I play for the Bashers, and going after my teammate’s cousin, who’s alsoa team staff member, would make me look like a creep, which would make them hate me more.

I knock softly on the door. A second later, the music fades and Ingrid opens the door. She’s wearing an outfit similar to the one she was wearing yesterday: ankle boots, fitted jeans, and a blousy long-sleeve shirt that’s unbuttoned at the top, leaving a tiny peak of cleavage. She looks fucking dynamite.

Quit checking her out, you creep.

She flashes that gorgeous smile. “Hey. Morning. Come on in.”

She steps aside and lets me in. I follow her to her desk, but she stops suddenly and starts to turn around.

“I forgot to ask, do you—oof!”

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