All three of the Slater brothers are staring right at me.
Kane and Calloway have the good grace to look contrite for being so unabashed about it. Rook, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to set me on fire. The intensity of his glare makes my breath hitch and hold. As much as I want to, I can’t look away.
But much longer of this staring contest, and I fear he’ll be able to hear the thoughts rolling around inside my head.
What’s his freaking deal? What did I ever do to him? How can a man look so angry and scary and be so hot at the same time? And for the love of everything, why can’t my vagina distinguish between the two?
Eventually, Ihaveto look away first. The intensity is too much.
Taking a deep breath and pouring everything I have into regaining my focus, I move my attention back to my phone and type out a text.
Me: Geez. Well. Okay. I’ll try to figure something out and let you know, okay?
Gammy: Don’t try, Ky. DO. We need to talk.
Geez.I want to put stock in her words, but the last time she sounded this serious, all she wanted was to warn me against the dangers of Botox. It was valid advice, coming from a woman with glass skin and an ass that won’t quit even at her age, but it was hardly groundbreaking information.
I’m not saying I won’t try to find a time to have dinner with her or something soon, but I definitely can’t nail anything down before reading the room with my boss, Martin. He’s pretty chill nine out of twelve months of the year, but as of two Fridays ago, he’s smack-dab in the middle of an existential crisis.
Pretty sure it’s not going to be as simple as me saying “my gammy needs me” while my boss is balls deep in IRS returns. There’s going to have to be sugarcoating and coddling and working through returns at the speed of light to be able to leave the office with enough time to make the forty-five-minute drive to my grandma’s house, have dinner, and be back again before midnight at any point over the next two and a half weeks.
I tuck my phone into my leggings and push off again, forcing my focus back onto the ice. I glide into motion, ready to get back to work on my toe jumps. For some reason, they’re always my sloppiest, and I find starting with them when my energy is highest is the most productive.
I turn and burn around the outside of the rink, spinning around and skating backward for half the loop before spinning forward again.
But still, I’m not alone.
Across the rink, Holland and a few of the Fighting Fangs lean against the plexiglass, out of their gear and watching me without remorse. A quick glance confirms that the trio of Slater brothers has made its way to the locker room, and shockingly, in their absence, my tension over being watched only amplifies.
I try to concentrate on my form instead of on the ogling men, but the vulnerability won’t leave. I’m in a sports bra and leggings,and the weight of all these eyes makes me feel like I’m in a fishbowl.
Like I’m being measured and judged and calculated somehow. I don’t understand it, but it doesn’t feel good.
It’s probably ridiculous.I’mprobably being ridiculous. I mean, this is a public rink in a sleepy town, and these are a bunch of hockey dudes locking in on the only woman they can.
But…the unease won’t leave.
Ugh.
Why are these men so damn starved for female viewing? Don’t they know there’s free porn on the internet?
Rook
“You’re real subtle tonight, Rook,” my younger brother Kane says. “Real calm, too.”
“Oh yeah,” Calloway, the baby brother of our macho brood, chimes in. “Very zen. Nothing says inner peace like skating like you want to murder the ice every time she’s in the building. Though, I do wonder if there’s a slightly better approach you could utilize. Maybe a little…wooing, perhaps?”
I groan. “Shut the hell up.”
Kane laughs his ass off, thrilled to have gotten a reaction, and I yank the guards over my blades, shoving them into my bag harder than necessary.
“It’s not like that,” I continue. “And you know it.”
“Oh, we know,” Calloway says, peeling off his pads. He’s always the calmest one out of the three of us. Where Kane is the jokester and I’m what they’d probably callthe asshole, Cal is the closest to Buddha a vampire will ever get. “You watch her like a fucking hawk whenever she’s near, bro. Kind of makes your…circumstances…hard to ignore.”
I’m the oldest of the Slater brothers, but the way these bastards are calling me out, you’d think the sibling hierarchy doesn’t exist. Still, I find myself giving in to their nosiness.
“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. She loathes me,” I snap. “Every time I open my mouth, she looks like she’s bracing for impact.”
