Page 12 of Puck my Prey
Damnit, I cared about Heath Valentine. Probably for a similar stupid reason that Corinne Weathers let him into her house.
I released a groan as I reached my car, settling into the driver's seat and rested my forehead on my steering wheel.
“Do you want me to drive?” Liz offered.
“No, but thank you for the offer. I need to do something stupid.”
“Like get a Chimera off your mind?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at me when I raised my head and started the car.
I pretended not to hear her. Pretended not to think about Valentine following me home last night. Him talking to me as I trembled my way through my dark apartment, locking up, getting water.
He’s a predator.
But a caring one.
Gah, it was all so fucked up inside my head. Because if he had asked me to let him in last night, I absolutely would have let him.
But that was last night, and this was now. “No.” I straightened and flicked my pony tail over my shoulder. “Like get back to work, ignore Valentine’s life choices and work this through.”
Screw him, and screw his choices.I had my own to make. That just wouldn’t involve him if he didn’t involve me. Petty, but then, hadn’t we said last night that we would go back to hating each other today?
Wish granted.
“That doesn't seem so stupid to me," Liz muttered, checking her mail on her tablet as I pulled away from the curb, hot spotting off my phone.
My lips formed into a grin that could have been a grimace instead. “Not yet. But I'll make sure we get there before the day’s end.”
And I'd make sure Valentine knew it, too. I was cruel like that when I didn’t get my way. Or bratty. Yep. Totally bratty. If Valentine wanted to play games with me, then I’d play. Bonus round: I’d get my job done as well. Win/win, and all in my favor.
Just the way I liked it.
“Did you think you could walk into a traumatized woman’s house and get away with asking her what the hell happened?”
Both my eyebrows winced on my behalf as I Coach berated my lack of discretion earlier in the day.
“Call it desperation,” I muttered, staring at the desk and knowing full well that they should be on this side of it. “You know what the next steps are.”
I mean, it would help if I knew what the hell had happened in the first place as I was still fizzy on the details, as, it seemed, was everyone else in the hockey world. All I knew was that I walked back into Ward’s office—my office, for the week— and found yet another news interview with Hux talking intently to an anchorman about the incident that he hadn’t even freaking attended.
And all without authorization from the club.
Apparently, the players decided to go rogue on this one. Heads would roll.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“Fuck.” Coach rubbed a hand over his face, never breaking eye contact with me once I raised my head and stared him down. “Fuck. You’ve got the balls to match this team, you know that.”
“It’s why I’m here, after all.”
“It’s not the only reason,” he argued. “You’re supposed to figure out how to get into their heads, work through the points and set them up with a better public face. Sort this shit out.” He waved at the oversized screen he’d dragged into his spartan office to display the interview that, no matter the intent, would condemn at least one player.
Valentine.
And no cupid’s arrow or pretty row of hearts would save that sexy player’s tight ass this time around. We both knew that.
"That's all you want me to do, huh?” I held Coach’s gaze unflinchingly, not looking at the distraction of Hux that he offered in his own bid for desperation. “Even when the team bands together and pull stunts like this?”
