“Plus, it wouldn’t exactly fit anyone else.” I rolled my eyes.
He snorted and kissed the tip of my nose. “Can’t get anything past you.” He sounded grumpy but looked proud of himself, so I only sighed while he pulled me in for a hug.
“You guys didn’t eat yet? We better get a move on. I have a good-luck charm, but I have to be sturdy on my legs.” He hustled to the freezer and pulled out a box of sausage sandwiches. KC made a yuck face, but I knew there wasn’t a chance he was going to tell on himself. Ren plopped all six sandwiches on a plate and stuck them in the microwave.
I didn’t miss how instead of putting the empty box in the recycling, KC stuffed it in the trash to hide the protein powder. Well, at least it would be gone after this.
Unless he bought more.
After the microwavedinged, Ren devoured three of the sandwiches, leaving KC with a reasonable two and me with one. I wanted to hug KC because he looked genuinely disgusted by the food, but mine tasted fine, so I shrugged it off.
On our way out the door, I grabbed Ren’s black leather jacket because I wanted that scent tinged with sweet vanilla in my nose.
“Oh yeah, I love it. You wearing my clothes today is perfect. I’ve never had anyone to wear my stuff.” He tickled his fingers over my jaw.
My heart swooped. “Yeah?”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Maybe KC and I can take turns covering you in our ...clothes.” He winked, then swooped in to nibble my earlobe. Heat streaked to my cock and it twitched awake. The scrape of his teeth was softer than usual—a tease.
Was that what last night’s gentleness had been about? Driving me crazy? I had no idea.
But one thing I did know, I had to tell Ren that KC wasn’t doing as well as we’d thought. Ruining his day could wait until after tryouts. I didn’t want him to start calling me bad luck, after all.
11
REN
My blades sliced across the rink and the carving sound of steel on ice sent a spike of adrenaline and pleasure through me. My skin prickled under my protective gear and the borrowed uniform the Homeward Bladezillas had given me. It’d been a long time since my body had sung like this. The high was the same one I got when tattoo needles touched my skin. I didn’t have much room left for new ink, but I had plenty of energy for this.
My hockey stick was heavy in my palms, and each time I struck a puck, a thrill shot through me. My blood was on fire, and I moved with the speed that had made me famous in school. I could’ve gone further, maybe even joined the NHL with Ripley, but I’d never wanted to be under the public microscope. No privacy.
Tattooing had always been my dream.
We went through drills, and I zigzagged between cones and ran the puck. My handling skills were rusty, but it didn’t take long before I was moving with ease. I shot past one of the otherguys trying out and flicked my wrist, the puck flying into the top shelf of the net.
“Fuck yeah!” I laughed and skated toward the lineup of guys waiting for their turn.
The captain of the Bladezillas, TJ Addacott, or Addy as they called him, whistled. He was a stout guy with a long curly brown beard who was an axe away from being aLord of the Ringsextra. “You got skills, Booth. Why haven’t you played on a team since high school?”
“Family drama,” I said. No one gave a shit about other people’s lives, especially not strangers. “But I’m back and ready to kick ass.”
Another Bladezilla, Rocky, snorted. His brown hair was wet from sweat. “Amen, brother. We need to show these assholes from Vert Island that money doesn’t buy skills.” He ran a gloved hand over his short dark beard. He had the cage of his helmet up, giving me a view of his crooked nose and a few chipped teeth that I would bet my savings had come from hockey.
“You only want to prove a point to that dickhead you have a personal vendetta against. What the fuck was his name?” Petey was a second line center and smaller than I’d expected from someone playing hockey. But then again, this was a beer league team. No one had to be a professional.
“Hackett,” Rocky spat, his face twisting in immense dislike. “Ironic, because he can’t hack it when he loses.”
Petey snickered, and I had a feeling he’d known this Vert Island player’s name and wanted to rile up Rocky. As if he’d read my mind, he nudged me with his elbow and winked.
I chuckled. Ifanyoneunderstood vendettas, it was me. Or the old me, anyway.
My gaze slid over to the stands where KC and Oliver were sitting. They’d cozied up to a couple of the wives and family members of the guys trying out, and they were in an activediscussion with a curvy blonde who had a bright smile. She nodded eagerly at something they’d said, and they all chuckled.
KC’s gaze met mine and he murmured to Oliver. Soon they were both looking at me. Oliver jumped to his feet, and even from here his flushed cheeks stood out as he raised his arms and waved. KC joined him and whistled using his fingers. They yelled a mixture of “go Ren!” and “Ren is the best!”
How were they so fucking adorable? My chest went all warm and it wasn’t because of the layers of protective gear and clothing.
I’d never had someone up in the stands to support me. My parents were always too busy to come see me play and my siblings had no desire.
