Some of the support staff come out—coaches and trainers and I even get to meet the illustrious Coach Dee (and I still really want to be friends with her)—and they all chat with Chloe like she’s one of their own.
And I suppose she is.
I watch as she talks, feeling oddly proud of her.
Confident and assured andChloe.
And not so surreptitiously slipping the candy they pass her into her pockets.
Little sneak—I think they’re overflowing already.
“Hey.”
I blink, tearing my gaze away from my charge and glancing over?—
No. Glancingupat a tall, broad,cockylooking hockey player.
Only, I don’t remember seeing him on the Eagles bench.
Then I spot it—the logo on his form-fitting tee. It’s not an Eagle. It’s…
Ahawk.
Ew.
“I didn’t know the Eagles had someone this pretty hiding in the family section,” he drawls, leaning back against the wall and crossing his ankles and arms.
I roll my eyes, clocking this playboy a mile away. “Probably because I’m not hiding.”
He laughs, sticks out a hand. “I’m Shep.”
“Finn,” I say, begrudgingly shaking it.
His eyes study mine, and he may be pretty, but his looks don’t do a thing for me.
Probably because I’m fixated on a different brown-haired hockey player with thick thighs and an incredible ass.
“It’s nice to meet you, Finn,” he says, his hold tightening on to my hand when I go to tug it back. “Do you ever root for a better team?”
I snort softly, tug again. “No.”
His fingers tighten further and he bends, brushes his lips over the back of my hand. “Well, now. That sounds pretty final.”
“It is.”
He lifts his head, releases me, and steps back. “I don’t see a ring.”
“I don’t need a ring to know I’m not interested.”
“No?”
“No.”
His grin widens.
And then disappears.
Because Rhodes is suddenly beside me like he’s materialized out of thin air. He’s taken the top half of his gear off, leaving him in a tight undershirt that’s sporting an Eagles logo (boo, Hawks) and caresses every hard and defined muscle of his chest and shoulders.
