Page 8 of Cheap Shot

“No fucking way,” Luke said through gritted teeth as the realization hit. “Absolutely fucking not.”

CHAPTER THREE

Luke Crawford.

Luke fucking Crawfordof all people was standing on the doorstep of Sebastian’s florist shop.

No way was right.

Sebastian hadn’t had acluethe dude was anything but a dyed in the wool conservative hetero asshole.

But as the look of recognition settled over Crawford’s face and he turned to leave, Sebastian blurted out, “Wait, don’t go,” before he could stop himself.

Crawford paused but he didn’t turn around, just glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “What?”

“I said, don’t go.” Sebastian wasn’t even sure why he’d said it, only he had so many fucking questions right now.

“Why?” Crawford did turn now, but only to cross his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his white shirt straining against the width of his biceps, cuffs rolled up to reveal his tattooedforearms, the leather of his jacket creaking a little as it was crushed against his chest. “You don’t seriously expect me tostay, do you?”

“Why not?” Sebastian countered.

Crawford scoffed. “Because you’re a fucking asshole?”

“Oh yeah, and you’re someprinceof a guy,” Sebastian said with a laugh. The dude had been such an asshole his whole career.

Most hockey fans hated him.

“I never claimed to be a prince. But you’re the one who fucking shows up at every goddamn Harriers game just to get in my goddamn face.” He glowered, the look made all the more menacing by the dim light inside the shop that sent weird shadows across it. “Did youknow?”

“Know what?” Sebastian asked, confused.

“Who I am.”

“What? On the app?” Sebastian frowned.

Crawford nodded.

“No.” Sebastian laughed again because Jesus, this whole situation was fucking absurd. What were the odds? “Fuck, no. I mean, I guess it makes sense now. Why you have your tattoos blurred in your pics, and no head shot and all that, but I had no fucking clue it was you.”

Crawford studied his face with narrowed eyes for a moment before he nodded, seeming to accept his answer.

“I take it you didn’t know it was me either?” Sebastian asked.

Crawford snorted. “No. I sure asfuckwouldn’t have come all the way over here if I did. Looks like tonight’s just been shitty all around, huh?”

“Dude, at least your team won tonight,” Sebastian countered. Not that he particularly rooted for the Comets. He was a Rockets fan through and through.

But now that he was living in Boston, he was always happy to root against Luke Crawford. The rest of the Harriers were fine, but Crawford had injured Nicky in the last playoff game between Boston and New York.

Since the cheap shot to Nicky’s head, he’d barely played and the Rockets had been on a downward trajectory.

“We sure did,” Crawford said with a little smirk. “Mopped the floor with Portland tonight too.”

“You really are a fucking asshole, aren’t you?” Sebastian snapped.

Crawford shrugged. “So a lot of people say.”

They stared at each other for a tense, awkward moment.