Page 19 of Blindside Sinner

I shake my head. I have to find my focus. “Don’t worry, big guy. I know exactly what to do with my mouth, thanks. Namely, remind you of your schedule. You have a game tomorrow you should be resting for.”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Actually, it is.” I’ve got precisely one hundred thousand reasons to care.

He laughs. There’s a cruel edge to it that makes me shiver. “Did you really think I was going to let you waltz in here like Mary fucking Poppins and control my life?”

“You will if you want to keep playing hockey.”

Oh, that hits home.

Beck’s face twists and he slides his body closer. “I don’t want you here.”

“How ironic! I don’t want to be here.”

“Then leave.”

I laugh. I know I shouldn’t provoke him, but I can’t help it. “There’s not a thing you could do to me to get me out of this house.”

For a moment, all I see is frustration. Like he can’t understand why I’d stay. Then it’s gone and cockiness takes its place. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Bring it on, puckboy. I’ve handled way worse than you.”

He grins. “Feel free to ‘handle me’ anytime you want. In the meantime, don’t bother unpacking your shit. I’ll be shocked if you last another week.”

He steps back and the crowd swallows him. I want to rage, but I’m seriously burnt out for the day. He can have this one.

Too bad there’s nothing he could do to make me give up this job.

Not when it’s my only shot at a future worth having.

11

BECK

On game days, I like to start slow and quiet. Find the headspace I need to be in before I step onto the ice.

Instead, I get Sloan, sipping a cappuccino in my kitchen like it’s right where she belongs.

Fucking perfect.

“What are you doing here?”

As usual, my personal pain in the ass ignores me. “Have a good time at the party?” she asks innocently.

I grunt in response, hoping she gets the hint. If she’s not going to answer my question, she can fuck right off.

Of course, she doesn’t. She sits her perky ass down next to me after digging out one of Karla’s cinnamon rolls.

“You’re not going to offer me a bite?” I drawl.

Sloan snorts. “I don’t share my things.”

“Likewise. But it’s rude not to offer.”

Her body twists just enough to look me in the eyes. “Would you eat it if I did?”

I grin. “No.”

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