Page 9 of Trade Deadline

I love our fans. We have the best fans in the league, but sometimes I just wanted to shoot some pool and drink a beer with my bros, and Gino’s is the place that lets us do that.

They also make the most amazing bourbon chicken wings I’ve ever tasted.

As I reach the bar, I nod and wave at Dylan as he serves some people further down. We hooked up once a few months ago after one too many tequilas, and he’s the only person I’ve ever hooked up with where there’s no lingering animosity.

It was a mutual sharing of orgasms, just as it should be.

On my right, Zach leans against the bar, typing away on his phone, while on my left, Ethan scans the space with his signature stern expression. If you didn’t know him, you would think he’s wishing everyone would disappear, but it turns out it’s just his face.

I turn and rest my elbows on the wooden bar top, silently cursing as I stretch my aching body. I took a few hits tonight, aside from the fight, and even with the hotter than normal shower, I still ache.

In hindsight, I probably should have gone to see Joe for a massage instead of just doing a cooldown and some stretches.

Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.

I look over my shoulder and groan as a flash of skin catches my eye.

“You need to keep them away from me,” I say under my breath.

The bunnies are already swarming like a pack of hungry hyenas. Although this morning's drama wasn’t created by them as individuals, I still have this bitter taste in my mouth. Coach’s words play through my mind on repeat, and I refuse to make the same mistake.

I’m not going to let anyone threaten my spot on this team, or risk me losing this family I’ve found.

Ethan glances over his shoulder to where the bunnies are circling their prey and rolls his eyes. I can’t recall a time when he’s ever gotten involved with them, in any city.

In fact, he’s never talked about hookups at all.

Huh.

“Ignore them. You need to keep your head down for the next few months. I don’t want to piss on your fun parade, but you need to take Coach’s threat seriously. He won’t think twice about putting your name on the trade table if you carry on.”

My shoulders sag at his words.

The only time I was able to shut out Coach’s words was when I was on the ice. The second my ass was back on the bench, they were swirling through my mind like a verbal hurricane.

“Excellent game tonight. First round is on the house,” Dylan announces, planting his hands on the bar, leaning in so he can be heard over the loud, pumping music. “What can I get ya?”

We order a round of beers before Elliot pops his head over my shoulder and adds, “Tequila us, amigo!”

Dylan’s eyes cut to me, obviously remembering the last time we had tequila. He shakes his head, hiding his smile, before he starts lining the beers up on the wooden bar top.

“Why? Why are we always ordering tequila?” Mitch Henry whines, his bottom lip pouting out like a child. “You know I can’t handle it.”

“Then you need to learn, my young padawan.” Elliot wraps his arm around the young rookie’s shoulders, who is already looking a little green around the gills at the mention of the drink. “Tequila is scientifically proven to make you lose your clothes and heighten your sexy time mojo with its aphrodisiac properties.”

Mitch’s eyes go wide in awe. “Really?”

I chuckle behind my bottle. “Gullible fuck.”

Elliot nods at Mitch. “Yeah! It’s also scientifically proven to enhance bedroom activities.”

“Scientifically proven?” I scoff.

Elliot’s attention flicks to me, giving me a grin which has been dubbed by the media as the ‘cheeky Olsen grin’, because we both do it. “Yeah, twinny, didn’t ya know?”

I shake my head, swallowing my laughter, as Mitch asks about how many tequilas he needs to have to be in “top form for the bedroom Olympics”.

Poor kid hasn’t got a chance.

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