Page 17 of Puck Right Off

“Don’t finish that statement,” I hiss, unadulterated rage rolling through me at the thought of anyone seeing her naked except me. I tried like hell to get her out of my system by hiding out at Alex’s house this weekend.

It didn’t work.At all.

“If you didn’t like this girl, you wouldn’t be so pissedoff.” His smug smile makes me want to punch him, but I know that would only prove his point. Instead, I clench my jaw and fists, remaining silent.

“Whatever, Alex.” I stare straight ahead, pretending to pay attention to Professor Martin. I nod in the instructor’s direction and hiss, “Pay attention.”

He chuckles, and I turn my head, scowling at him. He’s completely unbothered, which is typical of Alex. “You mean, like you? All I’ve seen you do is stare, message, and text Jordyn.”

I punch his arm, and he rubs the spot, laughing at the expression on my face. “You’ve got it bad for her, Tristan. Doesn’t matter how much you run and hide at my house. Won’t change your feelings.” He faces the front of the room, leaving me to stew over his words.

My gaze drifts to Jordyn. Her fingers move rapidly over the keys of her laptop, her gaze on the screen. I take a moment to appreciate her beauty.

Jordyn’s eyes meet mine, and I don’t miss the heat that flares in her eyes before she looks away.

A jolt of satisfaction blooms inside me before it changes to worry. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a woman this year because I needed to focus on the draft. The second I looked at her, I was ready to throw that rule out the window.

I’m in so damn much trouble with this woman.

Sweat dripsdown my back as Coach Jensen blows his whistle and screams, “Again.”

My teammates groan, exhausted from the brutal practice. We have our first game this Saturday, and Coach is determined that we will have a strong start to the season.

My gaze slides to Alex. When I see the irritation and frustration on his face, I skate over to coach, sending shavings of ice his way as I stop in front of him. I slide my gloves off and spit my mouth guard into my hand. “Come on, Coach. We know the damn drill. We’ve done it so often we’re gonna have nightmares about it.” Removing my helmet so he can see my eyes, I plead with him for their sake and my own. “The team is exhausted, and the risk of one of us getting injured is high.”

Coach’s face is stern, his arms crossed over his chest as he silently weighs my words. A smile tugs at his lips before he grows serious. “Good of you to be looking out for your guys.” He turns toward the rest of the team and blows his whistle. His voice carries around the rink as he says, “I’ll tell you what. You can hit the showers if Tristan can score a goal in five minutes or less.”

Fuck.I exhale a deep breath, turning my weary eyes toward Alex, reading the challenge in them. Alex practices like he plays, and I know this isn’t going to be easy. But when I look around at my exhausted, sweaty teammates, I know I must find a way to score.

Alex pops his mouthguard back in before placing his hand inside his goalie glove. He skates to his position in front of the goal, then bangs his stick on the ice.

Challenge accepted.

Shoving my mouthguard between my lips, I slide on my mask and gloves, determination settling in my spine. As I skate across the ice, I pass the puck back and forth, moving around invisible players as my teammates cheer me on. Alex readies himself in a position to block my shot. I pull my stick back, setting up to take my shot. But I fake it, which sends Alex to the left side, and I immediately take advantage of the opening. Swinging my stick back again, I send the puck flying into the net as my teammates erupt intocheers.

Alex pulls off his gloves and spits his mouthguard in his palm. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, Harrington,” he quips.

I skate over to him, removing my glove and spitting my mouthguard in my palm. “That was all skill, Graves.” Patting his padded shoulder, I give him a smug grin. “Let’s hit the showers.”

Alex nods. “Maybe I let you score a goal because we’re all fucking exhausted. Coach is pushing us like we’re machines.”

I chuckle. “Noted. And true.”

We pull off our helmets simultaneously, sweat matting our hair and running in rivulets down our faces. “What’s up, Tristan? You have thatlookon your face.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “Nothing’s up.”Please don’t ask any questions or bring Jordyn up.“Wanna come back to my place? I’ll order pizza… And you can help me do some research.”

He raises a brow, a smirk settling on his lips. “On blondie?”

“Why are you asking when you already know the answer?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Tryin’ to get you to admit your feelings for this woman is worse than pulling teeth.”

“And how many teeth have you pulled?”

“None. But I have knocked some out on the ice during fights. It’s easier to remove teeth than getting you to confess you’re head over heels for Jordyn.”

Lowering my voice as we step into the locker room, I shake my head. “Good to know.”

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