Page 82 of Heartbreaker

ROYAL: Remember that whole hockey thing?

She takes what feels like an equally obscenely long time to respond, but in actuality, it can’t be very long since I’ve just begun to remove my shin guards when I feel my phone buzz from next to me.

JADE: I sure do.

My lips twitch and my fingers move rapidly on the screen.

ROYAL: Well, look at what I did today.

ROYAL: And I hope you’ll be suitably impressed.

ROYAL: *video*

Another long moment of anxious waiting—my jersey hitting my bag, along with my shoulder and elbow pads.

JADE: I am very impressed.

ROYAL: What other things about me impress you?

I add a smirk emoji as I watch the “...” dance, indicating her typing out a text.

“Really?” Banks asks dryly. “You think that shit will work?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, shoving down my hockey pants and tossing them with the rest of my equipment into my bag.

She texts me back after I tug off my jock—because my dick and hockey pucks don’t mix. Not to mention that the assholes I was playing with would totally cup check me given the opportunity.

But her message has me frowning.

JADE: I really AM impressed. And it’s really cool of you to share that after all you told me about hockey and the guys, but I’m kind of dealing with a situation right now. Can we talk later?

ROYAL: Are you okay?

JADE: I’m fine. I’ve got it covered. I’ll fill you in later.

ROYAL: Okay. Talk soon.

My scowl is real this time as I stare at the screen, trying to see through the words to figure out what the real problem is.

Her publicist? The record company? Something else?

“What is it?” Banks lips twitch. “Your bad pickup lines?”

I shove him back. “Fuck off, yeah?” Then I go back to staring at the screen.

Banks tilts his head to the side. “Damn,” he murmurs. “You’re serious?”

I shoot him a look and ask dryly, “What do you think?”

“And you’re worried?”

Every instinct inside me is screaming at me to shut the fuck up and avoid this conversation.

Instead, the word is torn out of me. “Yeah.”

“Let me see?”

I grit my teeth, but pass over my cell, ignoring the bolt of pain that shoots through my jaw as I wait for him to read the messages.

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