Page 6 of Puck Me Twice

Even if it weren’t against protocols for staff members to have interpersonal relations, the guy is still a guy, and she’s married to another woman.

I mean, I get it. After being surrounded by testosterone and surging egos of the players and coaching staff all day at work and on the road, the last thing I want is to go home to another guy swinging his dick at me.

Taking the long way down to the equipment cave, I peek into the weight room and the locker room, making a note to refresh the drink cooler.

As I reach the equipment room, I glance down at the name on the front of the folder. Robert Andrews.

I stop.

My stomach sinks.

“Nessie!” A voice calls.

A chill runs up my spine.

Because that right there—that’s Robby Andrews.

As in, my ex-boyfriend.

The guy who dumped me on my twenty-first birthday.

My ex.

What the hell is he doing here?

He looks—I blow out a breath because he has absolutely no right to look that fucking good. He’s about six feet, and he has that broad goalie chest, and he⁠—

He’s wearing a brace on his knee. I can see it beneath the hem of his athletic shorts. He’s wearing a team t-shirt, but it doesn’t look like one of the standard players’ t-shirts.

I look down at the paperwork again. He’s not a player. He’s an assistant equipment manager.

Exhaling slowly, I try to calibrate.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I’m joining the team,” he says with a half-smile. It falls quickly. “I mean, the equipment staff. Not the—not the team.”

“I thought you were still playing.”

Robby shakes his head. “Not for a few seasons. I—well, I was in the minors more than up in the league, and I busted my knee, so…”

“So now you’re here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m the Logistics Coordinator,” I tell him shortly. “I need you to sign some new hire paperwork.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” He gives me his broad smile again. It doesn’t make my stomach flutter. In fact, it makes my blood boil. “Isn’t it great, you and me here? It’ll be like college again!”

Does he mean the part where he virtually ignored me all day until he decided it was time to get laid? Does he mean the part where he insisted his hockey was more important than my lacrosse, outright refusing to attend my matches? Does he mean⁠—

Does he mean the part where we were talking about forever, and then three weeks later he dumped me on my birthday?

“No, it won’t.” My voice is cold. I’m glad it doesn’t shake.

Robby’s smile drops. He looks at the ground. “No, I suppose it won’t,” he says quietly.

“If you could just sign this paperwork…”