Page 26 of Crush
Tonight, though, all the boys wanted to talk about was my fight.
“That was some sweet old-time hockey out there, Boomer!”
“Kasdorf finally got a dose of his own medicine.”
“I didn't hear a fuckin'peepout of Kasdorf's beak the rest of the game, by the way. The little shit was on his best behavior after that!”
“How'd it feel, Shea?”
It'd taken twenty-two stitches to close the gash above my eye, and my puffy, busted-open knuckles were currently throbbing against a bag of ice. But all that said?
“Pretty damn good,” I said with a grin. “Might not feel so good tomorrow.”
“Youfed that rat-fucker his lunch,” Lance said. “Actually, you were throwing your weight around all game long. Every time I saw someone land a big hit, I looked up and saw ol' Boomer standing over some poor dude he just clobbered. What got into you tonight, anyway?”
I shrugged. “Don't know. Something about that team just rubs me the wrong way. I hate 'em. It's Kasdorf, mostly.”
Everyone grunted in agreement.
“Oh yeah.”
“Guy's a fuckin' coward.”
“Fuck him.”
“Um, hello,” Ilya said as he peeled off his sweat-soaked goalie equipment. “Boomer hires a hot nanny and suddenly plays like he's twenty years old again. And people believe this is only a coincidence?”
“Aaaaaah!”everyone sang, as the topic of the day reemerged once more.
“Not this again,” I said, but I couldn't hide my smile. Because there wassometruth to that after all, wasn't there? Yeah, I had some small hopes that Brynn would work out as our nanny. And so maybe I happened to play a little more inspired tonight. So what?
“See! He's smiling! He knows it's true!” Ilya said, pointing a finger.
“So how hot is she, anyway?” Brooksy asked.
I peeled off the last of my sweaty clothes and wrapped a towel around my bare mid-section. “You guys seriously won't give it up, will you?”
“Nope. Not until you tell us,” Ilya said.
“Is she a seven? An eight? Jesus, is she anine?” Brooksy asked.
“Sorry. I'm not going to rate my nanny.” I made for the showers, leaving the bozos behind. “Can't believe I even have to say those words.”
“Just make a move on her, Shea!” someone called after me.
“Yeah, she'll go for you!” someone else yelled.
I rolled my eyes.
If only things were so simple.
Chapter 9
Brynn
It was just before 11:00 PM when I heard the throaty growl of Shea's car pull into the garage.
The hockey player stepped through the door, looking a lot worse for wear than when he'd left. A swirl of blue and purple bruises marked the places where his face had been mashed. An inch or two of black sutures held the skin above his eye together. Dried blood lingered in his eyebrow.
