Page 96 of Ice Queen

“Excellent!” Monroe says in his best Mr. Skinner voice. “Rory told me about this place downtown, it’s called Twisted Ink. One of her buddies owns it. They’re going to close it down for us later.”

“Enough jacking around,” Coach Sterling says. He lets the locker room door slam shut behind him. “Your personal lives should have been left at the door. We have a practice to run and a team to beat. That should be your only focus, not what you’re doing after the game.”

“Calm down, coach,” I spit. “Our personal lives are none of your business.”

He steps into me, but I’m at least half a foot taller than he is. “You’re in my locker room. Whatever you talk about in here is my business.” His eyes fall to the metal hoop cutting through my lip. He hasn’t been quiet about his disdain for it.

Too bad I don’t give a shit what he thinks, because Kait told me how hot it was. Not that I didn’t know that already, but it didn’t hurt to hear it from the only woman whose opinion I care about. So I push against it with my tongue, turning it while I try to breathe instead of unleashing on this guy.

“This isn’t your anything,” I retort. “We’re in New York, in a practice facility that peewee teams use. Not exactly the bragging rights you think they are.”

He stares at me, his freshly shaven face makes him look like an overgrown toddler. “Take your stupid lip ring out before you get on the ice.”

Wow, that’s all he could come up with?

“My girl happens to love my stupid lip ring.” Hell, I love the sound of that—my girl. I smile to myself, but the dude has zero social skills and thinks I’m taunting him.

His eyes harden as he straightens, trying to make himself taller. “Your girl?” His mouth splits into a malicious smile. “Didn’t know the word monogamy was in your vocabulary. Must be lonely to belong to a man like you.”

Reed catches my eye and shakes his head. But this isn’t a fight I’m willing to let go. Kait doesn’t belong to me, and the insinuation makes my blood slow to a crawl. She’s her own woman, strong, capable, made to drive me absolutely up the wall. But she will never be reduced to a belonging.

She was made to shine, and I’ll be six feet under before I ever let anyone dim her light again. Including my coach, who has no idea who she is. She deserves respect simply because she’s her, not because I have anything to do with it.

I bend, leaning in so only he can hear me. “You’re going to wish you never opened your mouth when I’m done with you.”

“Was that a threat?”

I stand up and turn to my locker. “Take it as you will, Coach.”

I toss him a wink and pull my chest pad over my head, attaching the strap to the Velcro. The locker room is eerily silent as I change. The feel of his eyes throwing daggers at me the entire time just fuels me with that much more rage to work out during practice.

I’ve just grabbed my helmet when my phone lights up in my bag. Sliding my hand out of my glove, I open it, smothering a laugh when I read what it says.

Would you still like me if I woke up as a talking llama?

I don’t like you, I love you.

I’d like you even if you decided you wanted to take up deep ocean underwater basket weaving.

That wasn’t the question, Casanova. Talking llama. Like Kuzko, but has a crush on you.

A crush? That’s what you're minimizing this feeling to?

Markus, humor me. Damn it.

Yes, Princesa. I’d still like you if you were a talking llama.

Even if you chewed holes in all my clothes.

Or made a mess of the house.

Or made me overheat at night because of your ridiculous llama wool.

I’d still be completely enamored with you.

Okay.

Okay?