Page 45 of Behind the Net

“I was telling Rory how I work as your assistant now.” Pippa gives him a shy smile, and my glare intensifies.

I don’t like her smiling for him.

“And you guys live together,” Rory adds, narrowing his eyes at us.

My skin crawls. He sees right fucking through me.

“Don’t talk to her,” I snap, and people in the vicinity glance over at my tone.

He has the fucking audacity to laugh. “Buddy.”

At my sides, my hands make fists. My pulse whooshes in my ears. On the ice, this is all fair game, but up here? With my—

With my assistant, I remind myself, dragging in a deep breath.

“I should get going,” he tells Pippa, smiling down at her like he’s found buried treasure. “Early flight tomorrow. Great seeing you again, Pippa. Maybe next time, you can show me around Vancouver.”

She laughs. “You’re from here.”

His eyes sparkle. “I’m sure the city’s changed in a decade. And I’d love to keep catching up.” His gaze slides to mine, and the suggestive undertones make my blood roar.

No fucking way.

He tilts a grin at me. “Maybe you’ll get yourStreicher shut outnext time, huh?” Miller walks away before I can respond, waving at a few people before disappearing out the door.

Before I can say anything else, Owens is in front of us, slapping my shoulder. I try not to flinch.

“Great fucking game, bud.”

“Thanks.” My tone is terse.

I just want to get home, get the fuck out of here. Maybe Pippa will play another song for me tonight.

Pippa shoots Owens a sympathetic smile. He took a puck to the ankle in the second period. “How’s your ankle, Hayden?”

For some reason, when she smiles at him, it doesn’t cut as much. Maybe because my gut tells me he’s a good guy, and he’s this friendly to everyone.

He reaches down to lift his pant leg, showing her the red welt and growing bruise. “Pretty gross, but I’ll live.” He puffs out his chest in an exaggerated way. “I’m tough, Pippa.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

A couple of the players are at the door. One of them waves to Owens and he makes aone momentgesture.

“We’re going out,” he tells us, and unlike Miller, he’s not just talking to Pippa. He points at me. “Coach said you had to hang out with us.”

I roll my eyes with a snort, but I can’t argue. In every practice, Ward brings up team building and bonding and has called me out specifically a few times. Even though my blood is still rushing after the game and I won’t sleep for hours, I don’t feel like going out.

I just want to hang out with Pippa. Maybe we can watch a movie at home.

Pippa’s smile is hopeful, and her eyes are bright. “What do you say? Do you want to blow off some steam?”

My eyebrow arches. “You actually want to go?” I tilt my chin at the players congregating by the door. “With them?”

She shrugs, and her sheepish smile is so cute. “Yeah, I do.”

Owens isn’t an asshole like Miller, but I still don’t want a bunch of single hockey players circling Pippa like sharks.

“Come on.” Owens punches me lightly in the stomach, and I push him off with a snort. This guy is like Daisy in human form, excited and full of energy.

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