Page 40 of Captain's Claim

Pissed? Annoyed? Conflicted? I can’t tell.

All I know is the weight of his stare pins me in place, pressing against my skin like a touch I can’t escape.

Then, just as quickly as it appeared, the hesitation vanishes - buried beneath that maddening, cocky grin that he wears too damn well.

“Morning, gentlemen.” His voice is smooth, easy. Too damn controlled. He nods at Greg, then at Big Mike, completely ignoring me. “What’s the big idea?”

I exhale sharply and roll my eyes.

Becauseof course.

Blake Maddox might be rattled for half a second. But he’s still the same aggravating, overconfident bastard who kissed me breathless and walked away, leaving me with nothing but a slap me on the shoulder.

Asshole.

Big Mike smiles at Blake, but slapsmeon the back. "You're gonna give Ms. Hart here a skating lesson. Show her the ropes."

I choke on my own absolute horror. "You're what now?!"

Greg nods, like this is a completely reasonable thing to ask. "Yeah. It'll be great for engagement. We'll take some footage, and you can post it later, Hart. Show a different side of the team, a realcamaraderiebehind the scenes."

Blake crosses his arms, obnoxiously pleased with this sudden development. "I don't know, boss. Think she can handle it?"

Ihatehow much I feel that challenge right between my ribs.

"Think I can handle it? What, because I'm a girl?"

Blake holds his hands up. "Didn't say that."

"That's what you meant."

"Did not."

"Urgh! This cannot be happening!"

Big Mike barely acknowledges myveryreasonable objections. He’s already grinning at Blake, clapping him on the shoulder. “So Maddox, you good with this?”

Blake, suddenly obnoxiously relaxed, doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’tevenpretend to consider it.

“Oh, I’m good with it.”

That's it. I'm quitting.

I'm moving to another country, starting a new life somewhere far, far away where hockey doesn't exist.

Blake gestures toward the ice, the smuggest bastard alive. "After you,sweetheart."

I glare as I yank off my boots, swapping them for a pair of borrowed skates becauseof coursethey already had some waiting for me. The cold metal bites against the rubber flooring as I lace them up, each tug on the strings an aggressive,murderousventing session.

A jury would justify murder right now. I'm sure of it.

The moment I step onto the ice, I regret everything. I regret ever applying for this job, moving to this stupid hockey-obsessed hellscape. I regret every life decision that has led to me standing here, wobbling like a newborn deer, while Blake-freaking-Maddox grips my waist like he's the only thing stopping me from eating ice for breakfast.

"Shit," I whimper, my legs suddenly feeling all wobbly. I clutch Blake's arms, which, unfortunately for me, are rock solid. "It's slipperier than it looks."

Blake chuckles. "Yeah, that tends to be the case onice."

I shoot him a glare as best as I can without falling ass-over-tit. "Oh, ha-ha. Hilarious. You should quit hockey and do stand-up."

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