Page 87 of Bad Pucking Roommate

I picture him fretting about his mop of hair and grin. “They’ll fix it when we get there. Quit stalling.”

“Easy for you to say.” He jogs down the stairs. “You’ve been working with these guys for years. I’m only tagging along because you insisted.”

“I only insisted because you were hedging. They asked for you specifically.”

“They asked forus, which they wouldn’t have done if I wasn’t with you.” He grabs his wallet and shoves it in his back pocket.

“Hey now, these guys know perfection when they see it.” I nudge his shoulder as we walk out the door. “And we’re gonna look so perfect together.”

“Please.” He snorts. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Actually, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had all those pairs of nice underwear because you model it.”

“And I still can’t believe you didn’t know that.” I open the door for him, which he hates, but I love watching him blush from the chivalry. “You never saw any of my ads?” I ask before shutting the door.

“Why would I?” he asks as I sink into the driver’s seat. “I don’t readmen’s magazines.”

“There are billboards.”

“Oh, God. Can I change my mind? I don’t want to be on a billboard.”

“I’m pretty sure the pictures we’re taking won’t be suitable for that.” I wink before backing out of the garage.

“Oh, God,” he mutters again while I try to bite back a laugh.

As soon as word of our relationship got out, my favorite underwear company asked to bring Justus on board to do a couples shoot. He wasn’t sold on the idea at first—he’s far more humble than I am and likes to keep his clothes on in front of everyone but me—but I convinced him it’d be empowering to show the world how much we love each other.

Plus, I want some steamy pictures of my boyfriend.

“This doesn’t violate any agreement with the Bulldogs, right? They won’t come after us for flaunting our relationship?” Justus asks.

“We’re in the clear. Promise.”

After the way things went down, I don’t blame Justus for being worried. Management was less than enthused to learn we’d been carrying on a relationship in secret, and in the end, they decided it was a bigger risk to let our violation slide than to enforce their rules.

Coach did his best to argue our case, implying that way of thinking was short-sighted and might hurt our chances for a second cup, to no avail. They handed down an ultimatum that one of us had to go.

Naturally, that was me.

It makes sense considering Justus’s talent and the fact he’s so young, and while I’ll admit to being more than a little sad we won’t get to see how far our chemistry could have taken us, I’ve had my chance to shine on the ice, and now it’s his turn. Fortunately, even the Bulldogs management wouldn’t risk an up-and-coming phenom because of a littlemisunderstandingover the rules.

Speaking of management, they let me keep all the money I was owed under my contract as long as I signed an agreement not to disclose the choice they forced me into. The guys had a field day bitching about that one, although to their dismay I signed it anyway. Not for the money—like I told Coach I had plenty—but because I didn’t want Justus to suffer any backlash from people who might blame him if they knew the truth. As far as the rest of the world knows, I decided to retire on top, which isn’t untrue, and the fact that we’re together had zero impact on that decision.

There were more than a few fans who grumbled about that being a silly move when we could be together personallyandprofessionally, to which we laughed and said a little bit of separation isn’t a bad thing.

Privately, we both hate the idea of being apart when he’s got away games, but we’re working on a plan for that. A new NHL-focused podcast is looking for someone to be the voice of the Bulldogs, which just might require me to be at all their games. For now, though, we’re enjoying the off-season, and supporting the companies that unabashedly support us.

When we get to the shoot, we’re whisked into hair and makeup, which includes covering us in a thin sheen of oil that will emphasize the cut of our muscles under the studio lights. They don’t let me oil Justus—probably smart—but at least they have a woman doing it, and he stares into my eyes the whole time, like we’re the only two people in the room.

That’s another thing I love about not having to hide anymore. We can stare at each other openly, something neither of us seems to get tired of, but which the guys are losing patience with. I actually sort of love the eye rolls and groans since they’re a sign that we’re unapologetically being who we are, together.

“Ready?” I ask Justus once we’re ready for our close up and waiting for the photographer to give us instructions.

“I’m more nervous now than I was when we played for the cup.”

I rest my hand on his hip, urging him close enough to lean my forehead against his. “And then you won the cup, babe.”

“Are you comparing winning the cup to standing around in my underwear?” I feel his brow wrinkle against mine.

“I’m saying you can conquer anything you put your mind to. And I’ll love you through all of it.” I lean forward just enough to brush my lips lightly over his, right as a series of rapid clicks has us both sucking in a startled breath and turning toward the photographer.

---