Page 119 of Cheap Shot

Luke shoved him back. “I’ll leave the man-whoring to you, thanks.”

The third period wasn’t much better. The minutes ticked down and it wasn’t until there were less than five minutes on the clock when Calhoun tore up the ice toward Jesse’s net. Luke put on a burst of speed, reaching out with his stick, trying to disrupt his shot but the puck went in, slipping between Jesse’s pads and the ice.

New York had gotten the first goal of the game.

Calhoun let out a whoop, looking Luke right in the face as he raised his arms and stick high, his teammates on the ice piling on to celebrate.

“You thought you’d gotten rid of me for good, huh?” he taunted as he skated by Luke a moment later. “Too fucking bad. I’m back, baby.”

Luke stifled a groan as he headed back to the bench.

New York had been bad enough with Rasmussen’s offense. With Calhoun back and feeling it? Oh yeah, it was about to get so much worse.

But with less than a moment left in regulation, Luke stripped the puck off Calhoun near the boards and got it free to Connor, who took a few steps toward the center of the ice and fired. The puck banked off the post with a satisfying ping and landed in the net behind Roman Poole.

Luke hollered his appreciation and slammed into his captain as the home crowd roared.

“Fuck yeah!” Luke shouted as he wrapped his arms around Connor’s waist and shook him. “Fuck yeah, that’s how we do it in Boston.”

But their happiness was short-lived.

Despite great chances by Graham, Anker and Eric Wyatt, New York kept the pressure up in overtime, forcing Boston to defend heavily in their own zone. With thirty seconds to go, Calhoun got another breakaway and although Jesse flung his body sideways in his crease, the puck skipped over him and landed in the back of the net.

New York had won it in overtime.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke saw Sebastian celebrating with the older Rockets fan nearby.

“Fucking New York,” Connor muttered as they skated toward Jesse to give him his helmet bumps and thank him for getting them to overtime and grabbing them a single point, even if it wasn’t the two they’d hoped for.

Luke agreed.

Fuck the New York Rockets.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Following the game, the flower shop was dim and quiet when Luke let himself in through the door off the alley at the back of the building.

Inside, it was cool and smelled nice. Kinda … green, if that made any sense. Like plants and water. Totally different than the dry, dusty air of Las Vegas where Luke had grown up, but he was growing to like that smell. Growing to like the way it made his gut tighten with anticipation because it meant he’d get his hands on Sebastian soon.

Luke locked the dead bolt, thinking about fucking him tonight.

After tonight’s frustrating game, it was perfect. Just what he needed.

Luke squeezed his way up the narrow stairwell, then opened the door to Sebastian’s apartment.

Sebastian was on the phone, pacing the middle of the living room, still wearing jeans and the damn Calhoun jersey. His gazeflew to Luke’s and he made a slashing motion with his hand, then held his finger to his lips.

Luke assumed that meantdon’t talk, so he didn’t, just turned away to hang his coat on the hook by the door and kick off his shoes.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, clearing his throat. “It was a good game.”

Luke wondered who he was talking to. His sister? His parents? Some friend back in New York, maybe?

Luke glanced over at him, wondering why he had a weird, pinched look on his face. Luke crossed the room to Sebastian, and his eyes widened.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” he said into the phone. “I totally would’ve loved to see you tonight but, um, you said you weren’t going be available so I made, uh, other plans.”

Luke grinned. Yeah, Sebastian fucking hadplans. Plans that this phone call was definitely holding up right now. Luke slid a hand along Sebastian’s hip, and he raised an eyebrow but didn’t push him away.