Page 7 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
I did what I had to do and smiled for the cameras with my stupid mask in place.
The event itself is just like I expected. Elegant, exclusive, expensive.
It’s not my idea of a good night out, and certainly not any of the reasons why I wanted to become a professional hockey player.
But apparently, it’s a part of the job.
The second I’m inside, I make a beeline for the bar.
The season is starting soon, so I need to be sensible. But that doesn’t mean I don’t start the night with a little Dutch courage.
The scotch is burning down my throat when I sense someone step up beside me.
I glance over at a woman in a black fitted dress.
Of course.
“Hey,” she purrs, looking up at me through her intricate mask.
“Hi,” I reply politely before pushing my empty glass across the bar and taking a step back.
“Are you here by yourself?” she asks shamelessly while hereyes drop down the length of my body, probably trying to weigh up whether I’m a player or not.
Just as my lips part, Linc, Fletcher, our captain, and his wife, Reese, walk across the room.
“I’m meeting someone. Enjoy your night,” I say before darting away.
“Evening, Big D.” Linc uses the nickname the team has given me with a wide grin as I approach.
“Evening,” I mutter.
“Did we just watch you turn down a drink with a hot woman?” he asks as if he’s just witnessed the crime of the century.
I glance back at her, now latched onto another victim.
“Wasn’t my type.”
“Funny, we hear you say that a lot,” Linc teases while Fletch and Reese watch on curiously.
“Well, it’s true. If you had a bit more taste, maybe you wouldn’t end up at the clinic every other week.”
“Oh, burn,” Fletch mocks.
“Once,” Linc argues. “I had to go once. Will you let it go?”
“Sure thing.” I wink before turning to Reese.
“This is incredible,” I praise.
She’s the Vipers Foundation senior coordinator and responsible for all of this.
“Thank you, Kodie. And thank you for your support.”
I’m about to respond when a harassed-looking kid with a clipboard and an earpiece comes rushing over to her.
“I’m sorry, please excuse me.”
“Shall we check out the auction?” Fletch asks.
