Not until he noticed that Christensen was standing in his open hotel room door, watching Ian as if he were the best reality TV show there was. He really should have checked the hallway first before walking out of Shelby’s room. God knew what Christensen must be thinking.

Pretty much the same as you would be, boy-o.

Ian glared at the other man. “Why do you look so damn happy?”

“Because I was starting to lose patience waiting for you to make your move,” Christensen said without any hint of embarrassment about getting caught gawking.

“What are you talking about?” He regretted the question as soon as it was out of his mouth.

This was what came from that practice session yesterday. Now the door had been cracked open between them, and keeping Christensen out would be that much harder. The guy knew him too well. That’s why he’d had to shut everything down between them with brutal efficiency. The Ice Knights forward had the skill on and off the ice to find an opening.

“You walking out of Shelby’s room with what looks like a smile on your face,” Christensen said. “I mean, I can’t be sure, since it’s been so long since you’ve done anything but glower.”

“Fuck off.” Ian crossed over to his door.

“What, you’re not interested in her?”

As if he was going to tell Christensen that. Instead, he just grunted and used his key card to unlock his door.

His former best friend made an exaggerated huh sound. “I’ll take that as me being cleared to move in.”

Ian knew what this was. It wasn’t the first time Christensen had busted his chops like this—or he’d done it to him. Used to be it was their preferred pregame warm-up. Talk shit, let out the nerves, and get ready to go kick ass. If he thought he could use the same tactics to make him jealous, he had another think coming because he knew Shelby like Christensen never would.

“You really think she’d go for a never-shuts-up pretty boy like you?” he asked.

“Why not?” Christensen smirked. “Women find me irresistible.”

Oh yeah. This guy was very much not Shelby’s type. Who was her type? Ian was. “Okay, go for it. Knock on her door and try your best.”

“I will.”

“Go ahead.”

Christensen looked at her closed door, the first twinge of oh-fuck-what-did-I-get-myself-into giving his face a pinched look. “Now?”

Ian crossed his arms and waited. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi.

Finally, the other man walked over to Shelby’s door and gave it three quick taps.

Shelby opened it. “Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

Christensen leaned against the doorjamb and gave her a grin that graced the billboard ads he got the big money for. “Just came by to say hi.”