But my brain is replaying her voice again;I’m your new problem.She didn’t even hesitate. She just threw herself into the ring with me like she wasn’t scared.
“Guys,” I say, rubbing a towel over my hair, “she’s the boss’s daughter. She’s here to lecture me, not flirt.”
The entire locker room looks at me like I just announced I think mayonnaise is a beverage.
Gabriel snorts. “She walked in, saw you shirtless, and forgot how to blink. That’s flirting.”
“That wasn’t flirting,” I say.
“That was spicy hate,” Eli says. “Which is even better, honestly.”
I toss a puck at him. He dodges it.
I try to focus on my gear. On the next game. On the pile of warnings from the league office I haven’t opened yet.
Instead, my head keeps drifting back to her.
Annabelle. Bossy. Smart. Pretty in a way that’s going to cause trouble.
The locker room door opens.
Every guy goes quiet.
She walks in.
Annabelle Hacker. Clipboard under one arm. Folder in hand. Hair in a bun. Eyes set toI’m not here to be charmed by any of you.
She turns her back toward the room, clearly giving the guys a chance to scramble for towels.
“Gentlemen,” she says, “you have two minutes to get decent. I’m not stepping over naked hockey players today.”
The guys scramble, cackling.
I don’t move. I just watch her.
After a few minutes she enters our locker area.
She pretends not to notice me half-dressed. She absolutely notices.
“We need to talk,” she says.
“Already?” I ask. “We just met. Maybe dinner first?”
Her stare could flatten a mountain.
“This isn’t a date,” she says.
“Could be,” I reply.
“It won’t be.”
The guys choke on laughter.
She steps closer and hands me the folder. “This is a list of your recent… issues.”
“Issues?”
“Violations.”
