Page 353 of Hate Mates

Cassidy Logan has been a thorn in my side since she became old enough to show up to the office with her dad.Who also happens to be the owner of the team I’ve been playing for over the past decade. Give or take a few years.

So not only is she off-limits because she’s too fucking young, she’s also extra off-limits because the last thing you want to do is make a play for the boss’s daughter.

Jack is silent for a moment, and I do my best to ignore him, but then he lifts his hand, obviously waving in her direction, and now I jab my elbow into his side a bit more forcefully than is probably necessary. This only makes him laugh louder, and Cassidy raises her brows, lifting a hand and waggling her fingers at him.

I turn to Jack and say, “See, maybe she’s looking at you.”

“Not a fucking chance, Rafferty,” he replies dryly and then nudges me with his elbow again, pointing across the rink. “See? Definitely looking at youlike that.”

Slowly, I shift my gaze back in her direction, and sure enough, her eyes lock with mine. The corner of my mouth curves up in a small yet uncertain smile, and I raise my eyebrows at her questioningly. Her eyes immediately narrow until she’s outright glaring at me, and this time, when her hand comes up, she doesn’t wave. Instead, she points one finger and drags it across her throat in a rather threatening manner, and my jaw drops open in surprise. Jack laughs loudly, and my hands come up as I silently ask her what the fuck. And then she smirks, that same hand moving in front of her where she very clearly gives me the middle finger.

Jack, still laughing, says, “Well, what the fuck did you do to her?”

I sigh deeply, my hand rubbing my helmet as the final whistle blows, and I look up at the scoreboard to see we at least won the game.

I stand, and Jack stands with me as he asks again, “Seriously, man, what the fuck did you do to her?”

“All I do is breathe. Apparently, that’s all it takes to piss her off.”

“Well, if all its gonna take to make the princess happy is you stopping breathing, I guess I better go buy a new suit for your funeral.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth,” I mutter.

We all start making our way toward the locker room, and I pause, turning and glancing over my shoulder to see if she’s still standing there glaring at me.

She’s not, but for some reason, that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Trepidation sends a slight shiver through me, and I do my best to shake it off. Because if nothing else, at this point, if the boss's daughter doesn't get me axed, my age will.

TWO

Ren

It always takes me longer to get my shit sorted and leave the arena than it took me to play the game.

If there’s one thing I always tell all these up-and-comers, it’s that it’s never too early to start taking care of your body. I often wonder if I would have an easier time now if I had thought to do that twenty years ago. Pretty sure the majority of my aches and pains now can be blamed on fifteen-year-old Ren treating his body like it was never going to get old or break down.

And we won’t even think about what twenty-five-year-old Ren was doing because lord knows that guy was a fucking moron.

By the time I get back to my condo, it’s the middle of the night. I don’t bother turning on any of the overhead lights, the illumination of the moon through the large windows being enough for me to make it through the main living area and down the hall toward my bedroom.

I dump all my gear in the entryway, kick off my shoes, and slowly half-limp my way through the living room, stopping off at the kitchen briefly to grab a recovery water I left in the fridge.

Only a few years ago, I would have gone out after a game. Now, the idea of having to sit in a bar or a club surrounded by a bunch of people and loud noises makes me cringe.

I make my way down the hallway, stopping to look out the window, always appreciating the city skyline at night. I lean into the glass, pressing my forehead against the cold surface as my knees and ankles remind me exactly how old I am.

Sighing, I push myself away from the window, continuing the short journey to the master bedroom. I walk through the doorway, sliding my hand up the wall to flip the light switch, where I then blink twice, stopping in my tracks as I shout, “What the fuck?” My hand goes to my chest as my heart attempts to leave my body, and I bend at the waist, bracing my hands on my knees as I shout, “Jesus fucking Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”

A quiet laugh breaks through my cursing, and I push myself upright, my hands moving to my hips as I glare across the room.

Her smile is incredibly smug, and she leans back in the large chair she’s sprawled in, humor glinting in her eyes. “You a little jumpy there?”

How the hell Cassidy Logan got into my apartment is beyond me, so I feel the need to ask, “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Pretty sure I own the building.”

“Your father owns the building.”

---