Huh. I couldn’t picture Bailey doing anything illegal. Or breaking the rules in general, for that matter. Wasn’t sure how she ended up with me, but definitely wasn’t complaining.

“Ah, my rule-follower.” I patted her thigh beneath the table, letting my hand linger on her leg. She shot me a sidelong glance that was more than a little suggestive, which instantly turned me on again. Dammit.

Not long after, Shiv drove Bailey home so they could swing by and check out the exteriors of the apartments on their list. To, quote, “assess the sketchiness factor of the area and check out walkability to nearby Starbucks.” Chick priorities, I guess.

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.

29. face off

CHAPTER 29

FACE OFF

Chase

For a weeknight game, the arena was packed. But that was always the case when we played Callingwood. The stakes were especially high tonight because Bailey was in the stands with Shiv. Hell, I didn’t merely want to win; I wanted to annihilate the Bulldogs. You know, male pride and all that. Not to mention the ever-present desire to crush Morrison in every possible way.

Unfortunately, our teammates were on a different page. I wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but they were sloppy, disorganized, and undisciplined. Ward and I were pulling most of the weight—and putting in ridiculous amounts of ice time as a result.

Even worse, Ty was having an off game, and the two goals he let in so far were weak as hell. One or two more, and Coach Miller would have to pull him. Though with our defense failing to show up, I had little confidence our backup goalie would fare much better.

With less than five minutes left in the first period, I hopped back on for another shift. I mean, why not? At this rate, I might as well stay out here the whole time.

As the blades of my skates connected with the ice, the Bulldogs lost possession of the puck and it slid across the blue line into their zone. Paul and I raced for it, but I made it there first. Before I could bring it out, he pulled up in a blur of navy and gave me a forceful shove, trying to separate me from the puck. We got stuck in the corner, locked in a heated puck battle. He attempted to stick-check, and when that failed, he accidentally-on-purpose slashed me in the hand with his blade. Hard. I sucked in a sharp breath as searing pain shot through my left hand and wrist.

Cheap motherfucker.

I hated him almost as much as I hated Morrison.

The whistle sounded as the ref called a justified minor penalty. And one that was more than needed for us. We could use the one-man advantage right now. I was nothing if not consistent in my ability to draw penalties from other teams.