Another Elmwood player edges closer in my periphery.
A muscle jumps in my jaw when I catch the way he looks up at her. Donnelly thinking he can take this girl home is bad enough. Curbing the strong urge to deck this guy for it, I weave through the crowd she drew, intent on making all the Elmwood guys back the fuck off.
I catch sight of his name printed on the back of his red warm up jacket when he pushes past his teammates to get to the bar.
Werner. Sounds like wiener. I smirk, overwriting his name in my head with the fitting replacement. His arm is in a cast from above his elbow all the way down. I vaguely recall playing against him last year. It clicks that this guy is benched this season because of it.
We reach the bar at the same time. I ignore him for the moment, grasping a fistful of Donnelly’s pullover to wrench him away.
“She doesn’t seem interested. I think that’s your cue to go.” I leave the unspokenbefore you get punchedhanging in the air between us.
He gets in my face. “No one asked you, Blake.”
“No one had to. It’s obvious to the whole bar she’s not into you.”
Satisfaction floods my chest when I give Donnelly a warning shove and earn her attention. Her sensual movements slow in the corner of my eye, though she doesn’t stop dancing. Tilting my head to meet her curious gaze, I offer her a crooked smile.
“These guys bothering you, sweetheart? I can make them leave if you want.”
Wienerfucks up big time by reaching around me and grabbing at her flannel with his good hand. It causes her to wobble when he tugs. I clamp my fingers over his wrist with a forceful squeeze.
“Hey,” I grit out. “That’s dangerous, idiot. You’ll make her fall.”
If he doesn’t let go, I’ll break his other arm to match the one in the cast. He won’t ever make it off the injured reserve list after I’m through with him.
He shakes me off with a frown and releases her. “Step off. I can handle her.”
Before I get out a response, my mystery girl plants one hand on my head for balance and her boot against Wiener’s chest.
“Actually, you can fuck off forever now, Johnny.” There’s a hard edge to her fierce tone. She pushes off with her foot and he falls back a couple of steps, mouth set in a line. “If I want to dance on the bar, I will. I don’t need Ryan’s permission to enjoy myself, and I sure as hell don’t needyours.”
She knows them? I guess that explains why she wore Donnelly’s jersey. Irritation simmers in my gut. She might know them, but she doesn’t want them harassing her.
“Stop making a scene and get down,” Donnelly argues.
He reaches for her. I shove him back again, blocking him by standing between him and the bar.
“Try that again, and I’ll lay you out flat on your back, asshole. She said no.”
He stares at me with his features twisted in a mix of disbelief and anger. I smirk when I catch sight of my teammates squaring up behind him. They’ve got my back.
“We’re not on the ice now, Donnelly.” The warning is evident in Cameron’s words. “You won’t get any more cheap shots in.”
“Says the losing team,” Wiener replies.
Noah eyes the cast. “Didn’t see you out there, pretty boy. Best pipe down.”
“Pretty boy? You wanna go? I’ll still kick your asses.”
Wiener—no fucking way am I ever calling him anything else again—takes a threatening step toward my teammates. His buddies hold him back with placating protests.
While my friends distract Elmwood’s team, I turn my attention back to my mystery girl.
“Feel like getting out of here?” I ask.
She stares at me for so long, I believe she’s going to turn me down. Her gaze bounces between me and the guys arguing behind me.
Finally, she nods. “If it gets me away from them? Yeah.”
