Page 2 of The Stud

“To fill your mouth with something, so you stop interruptingmewith questions.” She sassily slams the cap back on and yet again resumes directing Khurana. “The last thing we’re gonna do is focus on grabbing player-by-player footage. The signing spans for about three hours, so that should be plenty of time to capture snap shots of personalities like Groffee playing with his suspenders or Lagunas wearing his Taz hat-”

“Or me appreciating your…abstractstyle of art,” my hand motions to the juvenile drawing.

“It’s not abstract,” she defensively argues. “You knowexactlywhat it is.”

“I know exactlywhodrew it, which is why I know what it is.” Turning the green object to better face her is accompanied by a smirk. “Otherwise, it could be a spaceship.”

“No.”

“Or perhaps a sneezing nose.”

“Double minor.”

“Should I stop then or go for a major?”

The waggling of my eyebrows threatens to make her smirk.

God,I don’t even think I worked this hard when I knew there were agents in the crowd scouting me my senior year in college.

“There she is,” Harlow “Hot Rocket” Hennington, Owner and GM of the Dalvegan Dragons ice hockey franchise I’m signed to, states to Hoss upon her arrival. “Just the woman I needed to see.”

Hot Rocket would be redundant – since that’s what a rocket is by definition – if it weren’t for the fact hot was in reference to hertemperrather than her smoking hotbody.

Although…for a woman who had twins early this year…you sure the fuck cannot tell.

Not even in the Dalvegan green business jacket she’s somehow passing off as a full-on dress.

Great Eight Have Mercy.

She has the longest, second most wrap around my body brown legs I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

The first of course being the woman she’s here to talk to.

How the fuck Brendan “Bricks” Brickley, one of our assistant equipment managers, not only landed her but knocked her up isstillthe type of gino I simply cannot fathom.

A lot like Peck and his woman.

That too is a, where grandma hides the cookies, mystery.

Hell, even our yeti-sized skates leader has managed to land a snipe, marry her, and expand his family, joining the increasingly long list of relationship champions.

Huh.

Perhaps it’sjust methat can’t find anything but bunnies to hop into his lap.

Which I would appreciate the medianotphotographing all the bloody time.

I cannot say that I love the cheeky man whore headlines I’ve been making since last season.

Honestly.

Oneterrible dinner with a “bikini influencer” should not create two weeks of “bikini bunny” subject lines.

Hoss clips her sharpie onto her collar, shifts her hands to her back jean pockets, and flashes the woman who controls our careers a professional grin. “What can I do for ya, Hennington?”

“I actually have a brand-new PR project for you.” She folds her fingers together directly in front of her and swivels her face in my direction. “And you, Frosky…”

I’m not sure I like where this is going.

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