Which is not a thought I need to be having about my warden.
“Bro—” Callum slaps me hard on the back, eliciting a grunt. “Missed you last night. How’re the new digs?”
I shrug. “Alright. Nothing fancy.”
“Gia sent some guys over to pack up all your shit.”
My heart seizes, panic washing over me. This move suddenly feels a lot less temporary.
“Huh. Thought I was just gonna camp out for a few weeks, then come back home when this whole penalty box thing blows over.”
Callum shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Prince seems really agitated about the suspension and the ‘optics,’ as he calls it.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, debating how much of my current Ice Queen predicament to share with my brother.
Slamming the metal locker shut, I decide to unload on him.
“Dude,” I drop my voice low as more guys file into the locker room. “Prince has me on total lockdown. He has Tori fucking babysitting me.”
Callum’s eyes crinkle, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You’re fucking kidding.”
“No. I wish I was. She gave me a long-ass list of rules to follow. Ridiculous stuff, like curfew and daily check-ins.”
Callum whistles, long and low. “Damn, that’s harsh. The Ice Queen’s got a tight leash on you, then?”
I press my lips together, annoyed at his analogy — and how close to home it hits.
“Nah. No one tames Bennett Steele.”
“Talking about yourself in third person is never a good sign.” Weston sidles up next to me and taps the combo on his locker.
“He’s already cracking under the strain.” Callum elbows my ribs and I flick both of them off.
“Whatever. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be begging for mercy.”
“Pretty sure that’s an interchangeable line that could be used about any of your — I don’t know what to call them —conquests?” Weston laughs, slipping his jersey over his head.
“Yo, Bennett!” Morrison, a dark-haired, hot-shot right winger, shouts across the now-filled locker room. “You got company. Right outside.” He hooks his thumb over his shoulder and smirks. A few guys laugh and whistle, hooting and hollering at me as I walk by.
“Jealous, Morrison?” I smirk, laughing. Then I swing out of the locker room, skates in hand, acting casual.
“Good, you made it.” Tori gives me a quick once-over, her eyes lingering a touch longer than necessary on my tight practice pants.
“I told you. I’m extremely punctual. Like the team player I am.” I lean against my stick, crowding into her personal space to get a rise.
The apples of her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she leans in and now we’re even closer than we were a few seconds ago.
Game on.
“Great. Keep it that way. While you’re at it—go out there and skate like your life depends on it. The sooner you’re fully reinstated, the quicker I get my life back.” She juts her chin out, dark eyes flashing.
“Already trying to get rid of me, Sunshine?” I tease, locking my gaze on hers. “We’ve hardly had any fun yet.”
“I don’t do fun, Steele. I work. Hard.”
“So do I. But haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘Work hard, play harder?’”
“I work hard. Then work harder. Life’s too short for stupid games.”
