Page 128 of Cross Checked
“She’s pretty relaxed around me.”
His jaw flexed. I was starting to learn his tells. The charm was the mask. The jaw was truth. The eyes were worse.
“Cute,” he said finally.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “She is.”
His smile died by a millimeter.
I heard Ryker call my name from the driveway before Luke could answer. “Mercer. You playing or standing around trying to look threatening?”
“Both,” I called back without taking my eyes off Luke.
Knox barked out a laugh. “Cocky fucker.”
Daniel pointed his tongs at us. “No blood before dinner.”
“That rule feels targeted,” Emmitt said.
“It is,” Daniel replied.
Luke’s smile returned, looser now, but not calmer. “You play street hockey, New York?”
“I play hockey.”
“This isn’t the same.”
I let my gaze drop briefly over him, not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but enough that he knew I was measuring him. “I’ll adapt.”
His fingers tightened around the bottle.
And within minutes, the whole street transformed.
Cars got moved farther down the block while neighborhood kids sat cross-legged along curbs holding popsicles and bags of chips like they were about to witness the Stanley Cup Finals instead of grown men playing street hockey in basketball shorts. Classic rock blasted from the garage speaker while charcoal smoke drifted through humid summer air, mixing with fresh-cut grass, beer, sunscreen, and the warm smell of ribs coming off the grill.
And holy shit, I loved it. No cameras, no press, no scouts. Just hockey, pavement, noise, and Luke with enough free rein to show me exactly who he was.
Because Luke took the opposing side and looked at me like this was still a game.
That was adorable.
Teams split fast, mostly through shouting, accusations of rigging, and Daniel declaring himself neutral while absolutely choosing the team he believed would feed his ego best. I ended up with Ryker, Knox, Emmitt, Daniel, and two neighborhood guys built like they carried appliances for fun. Luke captained the other side, naturally, because men like him always wanted the center of the room even when the room was a street full of kids eating popsicles.
Pip came back outside with the buns tucked against her chest just as someone tossed me a stick.
Her eyes moved over the scene, then found me. I saw the exact moment she understood what I planned to do and her face went pale under the flush.
I adjusted my hat backwards and rolled my shoulders once, gripping the stick as competition hit my bloodstream and flipped a switch inside me immediately.
Because Pip was about to see a side of me nobody outside hockey really saw.
The ruthless side. The side scouts loved and opposing teams hated. The side that didn’t need to yell to make someone feel hunted.
Luke stood across from me with a stick resting against his shoulder, smirking like he thought he was about to prove something.
He was just not what he thought he was.
The first ball dropped, and everything narrowed.
