Page 24 of Face Off
“So we can get to know each other. If I’m going to be playing next to you, I need to know how you take your coffee. Consider it a very lengthy, very drawn out game of Twenty Questions. Better yet, let’s make it Five Hundred Questions. Every time we’re together, we get to learn something new.”
“You say that like I plan to be around you more than the required amount of time. The less I see you, the better, Miller.”
“I can be very persuasive,” I say.
“You say persuasive, I say obnoxious.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “I hate games, but I know you’re not going to stop bothering me until I agree.”
“Look at you. You’re already learning things about me.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
A lot of things,I think, and that’s a first.
I never make small talk with women. I don’t have to.
Everyone knows what they’re getting into with me—sex. An orgasm or four, depending on how the night goes. A good time before we go our separate ways, and absolutely nothing deep and meaningful.
But for whatever reason, I’m really fucking curious about Emerson Hartwell.
I don’t care that she’s not going to end up in my bed later tonight.
I don’t care that she’d probably hit me over the head with her stick if given the opportunity.
I just want to know something about her.
The name of a childhood pet. Her Mount Rushmore of hockey players. If she’s an early bird or night owl.
Fucking anything.
I’m willing to bet she doesn’t give out personal information willingly, and, just like with her smiles, I’m fucking greedy for more.
“Who’s the asshole who made you believe you shouldn’t be proud of your accomplishments?” I ask. On the other side of the door, Coach Saunders rattles on about the future and next steps for our team. I should probably be listening and getting ready to be hounded by the media, but I tune him out and focus on the freckled redhead in front of me. “Did they give you a reason not to celebrate everything you’ve achieved?”
A muscle in Emerson’s jaw works. Her eyes flare with heat, just like they did the first day we met, and,fuck,I like that fire she’s got in her.
“Why do you care? We’re not friends, and we’ve only been teammates for three hours. I’m not going to drop to my knees and worship the ground you walk on just because everyone else does, and I don’t understand why you want to get to know me.”
Why wouldn’t I want to get to know her?
She might be a little rigid, but she still seems really fucking cool. It’s obvious someone fucked her over in the past, and I hate that she’s so hesitant to even let her teammates learn things about her.
“My selective hearing only picked up dropping to your knees,” I say, trying to make a joke, and she rolls her eyes. “Do you remember what Hudson and I told you before practice? I know you don’t give a shit about me. I know we’re not friends, but loyalty is kind of my thing. I take care of the people in my life, Hartwell, which now includes you. If someone told you that what you’re doing—what you’ve done—as an athlete isn’t deserving of recognition, I’d like to know names so I can kindly tell them to fuck off and stop messing with my left winger’s head on what should be the biggest day of her career.”
“I’m sorry,” Emerson says, and it’s the softest I’ve heard her speak. She breaks her gaze away from mine and digs the toe of her shoe into the carpet. “That was aggressive, and I’m sorry.”
“You’ve got a lot of bark behind your bite, Hartwell. I can’t wait to see you take it out on the puck.”
“Says the guy who follows people around like a lost dog.”
“I’m just looking for an owner I guess.”
“Maybe someone should take you back to the pound.” She studies my face for a second before sighing and adding, “I had an ex-boyfriend who used to tell me I only got opportunities handed to me because I’m a woman, not because I’m a good player. Because I…” she trails off and swallows. “Anyway. Once you hear the same thing so many times, you start to think it’s true.”
My hand flexes at my side. I narrow my eyes. Irritation rips through me, and I have the urge to hurt someone really fucking bad.
