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Setting his water bottle down, he turned and nearly ran right into six foot three of built defenseman.

“Oh,” Ethan said, nearly stumbling.

Hank put a hand out and steadied him, amusement turning his mouth up. “You good?”

“Fine, yeah,” Ethan said. He wanted to pretend that he wasn’t though, and see what Hank would do if he put a hand right in the middle of his practice sweater, dug his fingertips in. Grabbed him harder. Pressed in. But he wasn’t going to do any of that. Not here. Not now. Notever.

He shook his head, clearing it.

“Still waiting for you to show me you can dish it back,” Hank teased. “’Cause that wasn’t it.”

“Oh yeah?” Ethan gave him a little shove, right to Hank’s solar plexus, and skated off, fast and evasive, before Hank could recover and try to catch him.

But Hank was fast, too. Smooth. Long, easy glides on those long legs.

They circled behind the empty net, and Ethan was pretty sure that was Hank laughing behind him. But that didn’t matter, because Hank wasbehind him, trying to catch him.

Attention focused right where it should be. OnEthan.

Chapter 2

HankTuckerhadexpecteda lot of things out of this preseason camp.

Expected that he’d work hard. Make the best possible impression. Navigate around the team politics, though he’d been around the Bandits long enough now to know that Max kept things pretty easy. Chill, even.

Charlie was less chill, but then Charlie was a first overall draft pick. Was considered the very best before he ever got on the ice, and as a result, had a lot to prove. Carried that with him all the time.

Hank got that; he had high expectations of himself, knew what he was capable of, and also knew what he could do. Craig Inverness, the Bandits’ GM, had pulled him aside yesterday and they’d had a good productive talk. All the things Hank needed to do to reach the roster—he might not be quite there yet, but Inverness had reassured him that the path to a full-time roster spot and a slot as a top-pair d-man was in his grasp.

But what he hadn’t been sure about was Ethan Barnes, Charlie’s little brother.

He’d had good stats his freshman year in college—and that plus his last name had guaranteed a first-round draft pick. It was the second part that bothered Hank. It wasn’t a surprise, considering Ethan’s older brothers had also been first-round picks. But that didn’t mean Hank had tolikeit.

But Ethan wasn’t what he’d expected at all. He’d expected a bratty, entitled little asshole who wanted everything handed to him. Who was already one hundred percent sure of his skill and the way he’d fit into the team. He’d gone out of his way to talk to him on the first day, because Ethan was the newest first-round pick, and while the Banditswerechill, there were some things that were too ingrained to skip. Like making nice with the other guys who he might be playing with for a long time, no matter his personal feelings about them.

Hank leaned against the wall by the front desk at the laser tag facility, surreptitiously watching as Ethan laughed with his brother and Danny about who was going to be on which team, and couldn’t quite pinpoint when he’d begun reforming his opinion.

Ethan was not stuck up or egotistical. He was actually surprisingly laid-back. Relaxed, even, not vibrating like Charlie often did, like he was tuning himself to a frequency only he knew.

He wasn’t contained either, like Max.

Instead, he was open and sunny, smiling at everyone, but a little surprisingly prickly whenever he imagined that someone was treating him differently because of his last name.

Notwhat Hank had expected, at all.

“You’re staring.”

Hank startled and looked over at the head of the d-men, Brock Jones, as he joined Hank in his spot on the wall, waiting for the rest of the team to get here.

He hadn’t wanted to come to this get-together tonight, either. Would have rather gone back to his hotel room and caught up on sleep. But when the captain told him he was hosting a team get-together, even doing something Hank really didn’t want to do, like laser tag, you didn’t say no. Hank had had that lesson drilled into him by his dad and his agent.Make friends. At least be friendly.Neither of those came easily to Hank, but he was trying anyway.

“I’m not,” Hank protested. He didn’t even think he really liked guys—not like that, anyway—but he couldn’t seem to stop trying to figure out Ethan Barnes.

“You are,” Brock said, chuckling under his breath. “Charlie put you on baby duty, too?”

Staring at Ethan wasn’t helping, but it wasn’t hurting, either. Also didn’t hurt that the youngest Barnes was pretty good to look at. If you liked honey-blond curls and big blue eyes and a few fleeting glimpses of tanned abs.

Hank didn’t, but if hedid, then at least his preoccupation would make more sense.