“And that’s what I like about you, Sinclair. You might just be enough of an arrogant asshole to take on West, and all of them.”
I nearly choked on my beer at his words, and he whacked my back a few times.
“Speak of the devils,” he drawled and grabbed his own beer.
A low sort of buzz went through the room when the self-proclaimed Ice Gods entered. The guys watching stood straighter, and the girls tossed their hair.
Marcus Bailey, fucking thorn in my side, and the best goalie in the convention, caught my eye, and the bastard slow clapped.
“Wow, aren’t we special? Look who’s decided to grace the campus with their presence,” Marcus chuckled, pulling stares from all around.
“Blame it on me, I dragged him here,” Chase intervened. “I thought we should all bond as teammates before practice starts next week.”
Anderson, a huge motherfucker and natural-born defenseman, snorted. “The only kind of bonds this bastard is interested in is T-bonds.”
Despite his words, he turned and held out a hand to me. “Good to see you, Sinclair.”
“Is it?” I asked.
Anderson shrugged. “Not really, but since I want to win the championship this year, you’re not unwelcome.”
“Well, I suppose you really needed a competent forward.” I turned my gaze to West, whose eyes I’d felt drilling into the side of my head. “I heard that since someone got recruited, they’ve been phoning it in.”
“Yeah? Elaborate,” West demanded lowly. He stepped toward me.
A hand slapped into the middle of his chest. Marcus, getting in between us. “What the newbie means is that he can’t wait to show us how good he is, and why Coach thought we needed him and his brother, isn’t that right?”
I stared over his shoulder at West, unperturbed by his aggressive stance.
“Don’t get worked up, mate, we’re teammates, after all.” I gave him a grin that only made a muscle tick in his jaw.
“Martino,” I greeted the third one.
“Sinclair,” he responded. “Congratulations on your father’s new marriage.”
I honestly couldn’t tell if he was taking the piss or not.
“Thanks. Congratulations on your hot sister,” I snapped back. Admittedly, any mention of my father’s recent wedding or the woman he’d chosen to marry set my nerves on edge.
“Talk less,” Anderson immediately barked.
I chuckled. “Right, I’d forgotten… you two are a thing.”
Beckett glared at me. Man, he was easy to rile when it came to Asher’s sister. I’d known Beckett far longer than the rest. My father and his had moved in the same circles for years. He’d been a dickhead then, and he was a dickhead now; the only difference was now I had to find a way to play hockey on the same team as him.
“We’re more than a thing, and if I so much as catch you looking her way?—”
“You’ll what?” I asked lazily. I was growing tired of this conversation, and Beckett’s threats didn’t worry me.
He narrowed his eyes at me, jaw working.
“I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t exactly the team spirit we’re going to need to win this year. Some of us still need to get recruited, after all,” Marcus said. Always the fucking peacemaker.
I smacked Beckett on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about your girl, Anderson. I have zero interest in or time for distractions this year, or any year, honestly. Some of us are gunning for CFO in their twenties.” CFO was the stepping stone to CEO and finally being trusted with the company. The position I’d been prepping for nearly my entire life. The point of my existence.
Becket rolled his eyes, but the tension slid from his shoulders. “Yeah, good for you. Some of us are planning on actually having a life worth living. You should try it.”
“No time,” I quipped and nodded toward the kitchen. “If you gents will excuse me, all this catching up has made me thirsty. Enjoy your night.” Sure, there were plenty of beers right here, but listening to Beckett Anderson’s life lesson’s was a kind of torture I wasn’t willing to endure.
