Page 139 of The Stud

“Let go get ‘em, boys!”

Returning to the rink reenergized and rejuvenized, I make one single lap around our goal, deliver a tap of luck to Wheaty’s pads, and park myself in the box.

The instant Layvon plants himself on the other side of the glass, I smugly goad, “Hey, Arden wanted me to deliver a message to you.”

There’s no reluctance for him to shift his attention to me.

“She’s a dragon,” I tug the side of my gear down just enough for him to see the fresh marks, “but also, a Slayer now.”

Chapter 23

Tanner

Would I trade being a Ted Lindsay award winning player for being a top cheddar barista?

No.

However, itisfun to pretend to be one.

Proves my mitts can be silky even serving coffee.

The soft launch opening of the new LMC store has been about as insane as an autograph night.

While fans were technically invited out to see us, it was season ticket holders only.

Of course, they were allowedguestswhich explains the high ratio of bunnies to broskies we’ve had parading themselves around the building.

For two hours straight, we’ve worked the room busing tables, pouring drinks, and of course posing for pictures.

Posing for pictures is what we’re fucking here for.

Good press.

And despite the fact we haven’t had anybad pressthis season – misbehavior rumors really aren’t bad press, just a bit unflattering to the PR department – Hot Rocket seems to believe we need more good press points on the board for when the puck slides the other way because according to her, it always does.

Bit pessimistic; however, it is not my call to make.

It’s hers.

That’s why almost the whole team has been here putting in facetime.

Sadly, because it’s ateam eventthat means I have to share Arden with my mates rather than have her all to myself.

She did write “Hamster Boy” and doodle a dick on the coffee cup I’ve been sipping from, so she’s at least with me in spirit.

I plop a giant marshmallow on the beverage, plaster a wide grin onto my face, and gingerly push it across the counter space. “Smashing s’mores cold chocolate for Pattssee!”

A tall blonde sporting a thick pink sweater but very thin white skirt leans over at the same time she asks, “Two ts, two ss, and two ees?”

“That would be the one.” Shooting her a wink occurs between statements. “Enjoy.”

“Can I record you handing it to me?” The ruffle of her hair causes the tits I know she paid for to slightly bounce. “That would be sooooo soooo amazingggggg.”

“Of course,” I retort prior to picking up the beverage. Once she has her phone in place, clearly ready to film the moment, I repeat the action, “Smashing s’mores cold chocolate for Pattssee!”

“That’s meeee,” she theatrically croaks on a playful tossing of the wrist and freeze frame.

Hm.

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