Page 19 of Falling for the Pucking Grump

It’d be how I like my dick sucked while I learn every inch of what drives her wild.

My face lifts because her learning about the sport should be the least of her worries. It’s not like Weston probably knows it. “What do you need to learn hockey for?”

Hollyn shrugs her shoulders. “So, I can strike up a conversation that lasts longer than two minutes. So that I can help him after you’re gone.”

Baby, that boy will need more help than you and I combined.

I sigh, running my fingers down the rest of my face and drop them. She wants in with Weston, and I wish to be left alone. What could teaching kids to learn hockey do? They’ll get what they pick up from me and probably lose it when Weston picks up the slack.

If he picks up the slack.

It’s worth a shot. It means I don’t have to start somewhere else, do something else, and serve my time to get back into playing my own game.

“Alright,” I comply, hoping to God that I don’t regret this. “We’ll do it your way, Shorty.”

Hollyn’s blue eyes squint a bit in disbelief as if I’m lying and pulling her leg. “Really?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ll get a rental for the next few weeks, so I don’t have to do this five-hour drive three times a week.”

The expression on her face reflects that she’s won the lottery with this. I still don’t get it, but getting into the inner workings of a woman’s mind is definitely something I’m not going to be tacking on to my list of shit to do while I’m here.

“Awesome,” she beams excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”

“I already am,” I reply honestly, reaching for my burger so we can finish up eating and I can finally take her home.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re overdramatic?” she asks.

“No. Just angry.”

Hollyn goes back to her food, completely content with herself and ignoring my comment. It doesn’t matter how many times I send scornful and annoyed glares her way; she bats those fuckers away. “I think you’re just misunderstood.”

I weakly snort her assumption of me and keep eating. She doesn’t need to study me like a science project or understand why I am the way I am. All Hollyn has to do is what she just said, and everything will be easier for me.

“Do you think I should wear more makeup?”

What the fuck?

My brows clash together because, no.

No.

We’re not doing this.

I’m not her new girlfriend looking to help her score. If anything, I’d be telling her exactly what I am now, and I wouldn’t be helping her do this.

It’s a waste of damn energy.

“You’re fine,” I note because there’s nothing she needs to change. If Weston had half a brain cell, he’d see that. He would’ve already asked her out, but who the hell am I? I’m just the hockey player while he dreams about the shit in his office.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong,” she admits with a bit of dejection. “I know he’s not married or dating anyone, but he never seems to…I dunno, hang out for a minute and talk.”

“He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, Shorty. Don’t go beating yourself up over it. You’re gonna be doing a lot of this if you do decide to date him.”

She shakes her head at me as though I’m being over the top. “Well, we’ll need to see how the first date goes. I know very few things about him.”

Yet, you like him.

Geezus, what is up with this chick?

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