Page 60 of Pucking Fake

"Oh." She shoots me a cheeky grin. "Then, you're welcome."

I dip my head, biting her bottom lip.

Christ, I love this woman.

Chapter Thirteen

Peyton

"Get on the bus with me, baby," Logan growls, nuzzling my throat as we stand against the side of his truck outside the arena early the next morning. "You know you don't want to sleep without me tonight."

"You hog half the bed and ninety percent of the covers, Logan. I'll sleep just fine in that big bed all by myself."

He squeezes my cheek, biting me gently. "I'm sick. I can't play."

My body shakes with laughter. "You are such a liar."

He fake coughs, which only makes me laugh harder.

"Get your ridiculous ass on the bus, Logan. I'm not flying out with you. I have things to do."

"What kind of things?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, actually, I would." He tips my head back, meeting my gaze. That damn smirk makes my stomach dip and spin. "You've already taken a wrecking ball to my schedule. I'd really like to know what fresh hell is going to await my return."

"Oh." I beam at him. "I'm signing you up for anger management classes."

"You wouldn't," he growls, his smirk slipping.

"I am actually." I pat him on the chest. "I already ran it by Alice and Coach this morning. They think it's a brilliant idea to help get management off your butt over punching a photographer."

"You're evil."

"You did the crime." I shrug, completely unrepentant. "Now, you gotta do the time."

"Can't I do community service or some shit instead?"

"That's on the agenda, too. We're rehabbing your image. And Alice is already collecting witness statements from everyone who saw what happened. That way, once the police report leaks, we have a whole list of people willing to stand up and say that youdidn't start that fight." I narrow my eyes on him. "But this better be the last fight, Logan. I mean it."

"No can do, sweet Peyton." He brushes his lips across my forehead. "If shit goes down on the ice, I'm throwing elbows."

I roll my eyes at him. "I meant off the ice. Hockey fights don't count. Everyone knows that."

"Hockey fights, huh?" He smirks at me.

"Isn't that what they're called?"

"Sure, baby. We'll go with that."

I glare at him.

"Stop glaring and kiss me, Peyton."

"Stop being bossy and make me."

"I'll show you bossy in a…motherfucker," he growls, going rigid. "What is that prick doing here?"

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