Page 34 of Tricky Puck

I wish that were true because the picture isn’t clear to me at all. The reporter is what? Ogling his fantastic abs? Sizing him up for bedmate material?

Do I even have a right to the sudden surge of jealousy and possessiveness I feel?

Damn right, I do. We’re engaged—fake engaged—sort of. And we slept together. That was totally real, and that gives me a right. Right?

Forcing a smile, I dart a glance back in the direction of the locker room door and see several men in suits emerge carrying duffels. Two especially hunky guys spot our group and head for us. Cherry waves with a silly grin on her face, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet, and when she teeters, I reach out and catch her.

“Calm down there, mamma. Your center of gravity is majorly off-center with that baby bulge you’re carrying.”

She clasps my arm and settles down, but her grin doesn’t diminish. “You’re right, but I can’t help it. Look at him.” She gazes in the direction of one of the two hot men approaching us. He’s lasered in on her with one of those intense, knee-melting looks, and when he reaches her, I step out of the way.

He drops his duffel and encircles her in a possessive hug, swallowing her and her baby belly up in the process. Then he gives her the kind of kiss that makes me turn my head and almost blush.

Chase rolls his eyes.

“That’s Sabien Dumas, her newlywed other half. And this is Jason⁠—”

“Who do we have here?” Jason gives me a look like he’s ready for dessert, and I’m it.

“I’m Delaney Collins⁠—”

His face drops. “Shit. I mean—what a surprise.” He exchanges a quick look with Chase. When they both clear their throats at the same time, I consider running. But I’m a stubborn girl, and I admit to the chip on my shoulder, so fuck ’em if they can’t take a little surprise visit.

Link won’t be surprised, but if he is, after that night we had together, I’m certain he’ll be pleasantly surprised. Fairly certain.

Oh fuck, who am I kidding? He made it clear he doesn’t want anything to come of us—which is good because neither do I—and moving in…? Well, that adds a whole new dimension to a fake relationship. Makes it almost too real.

“Maybe I should…” I don’t know what I was going to say or do, but it’s too late.

Because I spot the impossible-to-miss imposing fortress of a man striding towards our knot in the crowd, and he looks ready to eat—I mean hungry. Not that I’m ready to eat him, though I am now that I think about it. Shit, I hope I don’t start drooling.

When the impulse strikes me to shrink back and possibly flee before he notices me, I stiffen my back and raise my chin.

“Here’s Link now,” Emery says, gently touching my arm like she knows I need support. Not that I do need support, especially from a stranger, even if she does seem sweet. I can handle Link Milano. We’re on the same page—the one where we want to please our grandmas and, at the same time, carry on with our lives.

He’s grinning at Jason as he slaps him on the back, and then his gaze shifts, and he spots me. I can tell the instant he does because he executes a perfect double-take, and surprise isn’t the word I’d use to describe his expression. Horrified, maybe?

“Hi, Link.” What else can I say?

“Delaney—” He stops himself from saying whatever expletive was on the tip of his tongue—I know him well enough to know that—and looks around at his friends.

Eleven

LINK

Fuck. Shock smacks me and shakes me down to my suddenly excited dick. All it knows is she’s the best thing that ever happened to it. My dick doesn’t care that she’s a complication I don’t need this season—especially now that coach has threatened to trade my ass if I make another wrong choice.

And something tells me Delaney is my number one wrong choice.

Stick to my priorities. Hockey is my priority, not Delaney.

But what about Grandma?

She’ll understand. She’s been my biggest supporter, doing everything she could for my hockey career.

Delaney holds her smile for the beat of silence it takes me to process her presence, but I have a hard time coming up with something to say that’s not what the fuck?

“What a surprise to see you here.” My eyes drill hers, and I think I’m successfully communicating the unspoken question—why the fuck are you here?