Page 11 of Ice King

I rubbed my shoulder, hissing as a jarring jolt of electric prods skittered all the way down my arm.

“Look, bud, I’m not your keeper but maybe you need to listen to the coach. For once.”

All I had the energy for was tossing him a look. “There’s too much riding on this.”

“Did you hear the news?” Danny came to a skidded stop in front of us, ice shavings tossed.

“What news?” I wasn’t really in the mood to hear of some hot new bar opening in Seattle.

His grin widened, covering most of his face. “That rumor we heard about Portland getting a franchise. Might be true.” The last words were singsong, Danny shrugging before he did his own version of the moon walk.

“We’ve heard that rumor for years,” Finn tossed out.

We had. Portland had a solid fan base, enough the entire town, including the town council had been clamoring to create a franchise for years. “What have you heard?”

“The city council is in final talks with the NHL board of governors. Could happen this year.”

“Fuck me,” Finn said. “If only I were a free agent.”

“What’s wrong with Vancouver?” I threw out.

“Nothing. If you like cold weather.”

I lifted my eyebrow, snorting as I did. “And you think Portland is any better?” I headed off the ice, already trying to figure out my next excuse. At this point, I was close to my bag of tricks being empty.

“I heard the puck bunnies are cool,” Finn called after me.

Puck bunnies. That’s all he cared about. Sure, having women hang all over us at games and afterwards, being able to choose one for a night had been fabulous in the beginning. We were horny guys after all, sowing our wild oats.

But we were also serious about playing hockey and moving up in our careers.

The girls had suddenly all started to look alike.

Then the shit had grown old very quickly. At least for me. For Finn? Well, he was a regular man-whore. I laughed as I tossed my skates into my locker. I’d take a shower after being reprimanded. The coach had the patience of… A wolf during a hunt.

I lifted my head toward the ceiling, squeezing my shoulder. Why the hell wouldn’t the ache calm down? After taking several deep breaths, I slammed my locker door just as Finn popped into the locker room.

“You wanna grab a burger and a couple beers tonight?” he asked. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off everything. I got a text from a hot as shit blonde. She has a friend.” He peered at me sheepishly, the same shit-eating grin on his face.

Yeah, he was a man always up for a party. He could afford to dick around for another year or two.

Not this guy.

I grabbed my bag, tossing it over my good shoulder. “Not tonight. I’ve got a few things to do. Maybe you can handle them yourself.”

“You know I can.” Finn laughed, doing a little dance that did nothing but annoy me.

Why? Because lately it felt as if I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. My mood had slipped into the toilet. Maybe that was why when I noticed a stunning woman standing with the coach just inside his door, I also flipped. Now the fucking puck bunnies were being allowed near the locker room?

She was a looker. I’d give her that and not typical either. Lately, it seemed that every girl eager to hunt and hook a hockey player wore either tiny miniskirts or jeans painted on so tight they left nothing to the imagination. This girl had taken a different approach, her boot-legged, hip-hugging wrangler jeans reminding me of a choice my sister would make.

Casual. Rugged.

But on the mystery girl with blonde hair that under the ugly fluorescent lights appeared kissed by strawberries… Christ, I was sounding more and more like Finn. She also had a killer body going for her. Not that stick-thin crap made famous by some drug beginning with an O, but rounded curves meant for a man with large enough hands to appreciate an hourglass figure.

Fuck me, if my cock wasn’t aching to be placed on full display.

However, there was no doubt why she was here given her animated hand gestures and the grim look on Coach Stryker’s face. He was none too happy.