Page 12 of Full Tilt
Fucking bitch.
My mouth opens, but he shuts me down quickly, pointing at the door.
“Now get out and go spend your evening thinking over what I just told and handed to you.”
I push my chair back as I rise to my feet and slide the letter back across to him. “I’ll think about it.”
Coach nods once, anger contorting his face. “You do that, Tommy … oh, and one last thing.”
I look over my shoulder as I make for the door.
“Stay away from Jenna Miller. Whether or not you two have a checkered history is inconsequential, as are your feelings toward her. Get your head out of your ass before it gets shipped off to Connecticut.”
CHAPTER FOUR
JENNA
Irarely let anyone talk me into doing something I don’t want to.
Apart from when it comes to my girlfriends. They say jump, and I’ll ask them how high. And tonight, they wanted me to go to the game and then come out, just like old times.
Standing at the bar with Darcy, Collins, and Kendra, I check over my shoulder once more, wishing I were anywhere but here. Any second now, the entire Blades team is going to waltz into the private area of Lloyd’s—their usual postgame hideout—and at least three of their players will descend onto our group, reuniting with their wives and licking the wounds from their first game of the regular season, which ended in a humiliating loss.
My issue tonight isn’t with the team or even their woeful performance. It’s with one player who I wish would vanish from existence. And by the way he carried on tonight in the game, I’m positive I’m not the only one praying Tommy Schneider will put in for a trade, preferably to the Outer Hebrides or somewhere equally as remote.
I turn back to my friends just as the first set of players starts arriving and Collins and Darcy break off to join their husbands.
“You need to relax.” Kendra hands me a drink just as a thick forearm wraps around her neck.
Automatically, she smiles and looks up at Jack Morgan.
“Hey, Kitten.” Jack rests his chin on top of Kendra’s head, closing his eyes as he does.
What I wouldn’t give to feel a love like that.
“I need a beer and a double lobotomy after that game.” Jack shakes his head slowly, now looping both arms around my best friend’s waist. “Nothing came off. We felt sluggish and clueless out there. I’m hoping it was a onetime thing. Way to kick off my captaincy.” He groans in his British American accent.
Kendra swivels in his arms, setting a chaste kiss against his lips. “You have nothing to feel guilty over.” She points behind her, motioning in the rough direction of the hockey arena, her blonde hair sparkling beneath the twinkling lights. She’s absolutely stunning. “Bad games happen, and you and the guys left it all out there tonight. We could see that, couldn’t we, Jen?”
Kendra invites me into the conversation, and I nod a couple of times, taking a sip of soda. She isn’t wrong. The Blades were a length behind, but their work ethic was never in doubt.
“I’ve had games where everything I touched turned to gold and other times where all I wanted was for the ninety minutes to end so I could take a shower, head home, and search for a new day job.”
Kendra snorts a laugh, burying her face into Jack’s dress shirt.
“The only place where fingers need to be pointed,” I continue, taking another sip of sweet soda until it turns sour at the thought of him, “is at number fifty-five. He needs to go.”
I expect Kendra and Jack to instantly agree with me, like they always do over Tommy. Literally no one likes him. Instead, Kendra looks up at Jack, and he stares straight ahead.
“Well, that’s super disappointing to hear.” Tommy’s unmistakably gruff voice shifts the fine hairs atop of my head, and a tall, shadowy figure looms over me. “And here I was, thinking you were my biggest fan.”
I’d roll my eyes if that wouldn’t grant this guy way too much of my effort, especially given that my back is to him and my disdain would go to waste.
“Fuck off, Tommy,” I grind out, swirling what’s left of the ice cubes in my drink.
The shadow doesn’t disappear, not that it’s necessary for me to sense his presence. Unfortunately for me, Tommy Schneider is exactly my type. Theclassic tall, dark, and handsome meets tattooslook has always been my downfall, especially when they extend to his neck and knuckles. I’ve never seen him topless since he declined participation in the annual Blades charity calendar—unsurprising, given his mean nature—but I’d like to bet his torso is inked too.
He might think I’m keeping my back to him because I can’t stand the sight of his face, and for the most part, he’d be right. But hiding my physical attraction to this guy is a challenge, even though I hate the person lurking beneath his delicious exterior.
