Page 46 of Pucking Sweet

I gently twist myself free of his grasp. “I gave my sister all the warnings I can give. If she’s still willing to choose this life, then she deserves it…and you. Goodbye, Anderson.”

Squaring his shoulders at me, he throws his last sharpened dagger. “If there’s one thing we both know, it’s that family always comes first for you, Poppy. I’ll be seeing you again, most likely at the wedding. I’ll be the one standing at the altar.” He takes a step closer, lowering his face to mine. “And you’ll be standing one step behind your little sister, holding her bouquet, watching as she claims the destiny that was always meant to be yours.”

With a last devastating smirk, he turns on his heel and walks away, back toward the dining room. Back to my waiting family.

16

Something’s wrong with Poppy. She appeared during warmups and stood behind the glass in our VIP section, chatting with some industry reps, but her hand motions were too animated, and her smile didn’t meet her eyes. I even made an ass of myself and did a few groin stretches on the ice right in front of her. Nothing. No eye-rolling. No pursed lips. She hadnoreaction to my assholery.

Yeah, something’s definitely wrong.

But this isn’t my business, right? We’re not friends. At best, I’d say were hostile coworkers. I don’t have to care about this. And I definitely don’t have to investigate further. It’s done. Out of sight, out of mind.

I rattle my gear down piece by piece in the dressing room, handing off the stuff that goes to the laundry to a waiting equipment manager. I strip off all my upper layers and drop my hockey pants, sitting on the bench with a tired sigh. Once my skates are off, I pop a couple pain relievers and lean back against my stall, eyes closed as I just take a second to catch my breath.

I mean, a friend would probably investigate, right? Even a teammate might show casual interest. But Poppy’s not my teammate. She’s my PR rep. She’s a corporate suit—

God, why did I have to think about her in a suit? That high-waisted skirt and white blouse combo she’s rocking tonight feels very “the headmistress will see you now.”

No, I can’t care about her suits or her moods. She’s not my problem. I’m pushing her from my mind, starting now—

“Right, so I’ve made a reservation at Club 7 for 11 p.m.!”

Fucking hell.

My eyes flash open to see Poppy standing in the doorway. Balancing in those sky-high heels, she keeps a hand over her eyes,blocking her view of our various stages of undress. Her gloomy shadow, Wednesday, stands at her shoulder, eyes on her phone.

“The VIP area is all set up,” Poppy goes on.

A couple of the guys groan.

“You only need to stay for an hour,” she assures them. “First round of drinks is on the house. And don’t forget to snap those pics!”

“You got it, Poppy,” Langley calls after her retreating form.

Stupid fucking Boy Scout. I hate him.

I turn to Compton. “Hey, you’re going tonight, right?”

“Hmm? Waszzit?” He only vaguely registers that I’m speaking. He’s got his eyes locked on Doc Price standing over in the corner.

I wave a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Compton.”

He blinks and leans away, slapping my hand down. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Don’t be so obvious then.”

“I’m not being obvious…am I?”

“Bud, the only person in this whole building whodoesn’tknow you have the hots for Doc Price is the night janitor, but even she suspects something.”

“Keep your fuckin’ voice down,” he says, elbowing me in the ribs.

“Jake, it’s not a big deal,” says Morrow from my other side.

Compton turns on me like I just slapped his dick. “Oh great. So he knows too?”

“We all know,” says Morrow.

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