Page 152 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
Combing my fingers through my hair, I stalk toward the pool’s edge, letting Casey get her fill before diving in.
The water is a little too warm after the summer heat to do anything about the fire that’s raging inside me.
I surge up beneath Sutton, and without her seeing me, I flip her out of her donut.
She screams before going under.
“Daddy,” she squeals the second I lift her up. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Furiously, she wipes water from her face.
“Oh, what did you mean then? This?” I say before throwing her, letting her splash back under the water.
This begins a very loud and boisterous game as all the kids demand to be thrown around by their fathers or anyone who’s willing to get involved.
Every time I glance in Casey’s direction, she’s watching.
“Oh no, don’t you dare,” a familiar voice screams.
Spinning around, I find Linc closing in on Parker, who’s relaxing on her lounger wearing nothing but a fire-engine red bikini and a pair of sunglasses.
“Lincoln Storm, walk away from me right now,” she demands loudly.
He might have his back to me, but I can picture the cocky smirk playing on his lips.
She hops up and begins backing away from him, but she’s forced to turn to the left, leading her closer to the pool.
“Shit,” she shrieks before she takes off running.
If she thinks she can outrun him, then she really needs to reconsider, because not three wide strides later does he catch her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He launches both of them into the pool, her scream piercing the air for a few seconds before they go under.
Laughter erupts around us, and when I glance back at Casey, I see that she’s got a wide smile playing on her lips, joy radiating from her.
“You gonna join her?” I shout over.
“Nah, I’m okay here,” she replies with a smirk.
“Ah, come on, Watson,” Monroe predictably calls. Of course he wants her to strip down and get wet.
She’s too busy focusing on him to notice that Killer and Handsy have slipped behind her lounger, both dripping with pool water.
“Yeah, Watson. I didn’t have you down as a scaredy-cat,” I taunt.
I can’t see through her glasses, but I’d put money on her shooting daggers at me right now.
Her lips part to say something, but it’s too late; they’re on her.
36
CASEY
“Get off me,” I scream as their grip on my upper arms tightens and my ass leaves the lounger.“Freya, help!”
I kick out and attempt to twist out of their hold, but it’s pointless. And all Freya does is laugh. Traitor. I’m battling not one but two professional hockey players. I don’t stand a chance.
I’m still wearing my shorts and my glasses are on my face, but that doesn’t stop either of them. Thank fuck my cell is on the lounger, because I would be pissed if they stopped me from messaging a certain player that I’ve been discreetly eye-fucking behind my tinted lenses all afternoon.
Fuck, he’s hot.
