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“Thanks,” I say, pulling off my gloves.

She scrunches her nose and looks me up and down with a tinge of disdain, her arms still crossed over her chest. “You smell terrible.”

I lift an arm and smell my armpit before shrugging. “Healthy testosterone. No chick’s ever complained before.”

She scoffs. “They probably didn’t get close enough to tell.”

My six-three frame towers over her smaller stature, which is, at my best guess, five-eight. Add in my skates, and I have to really lean down to whisper, “Come a little closer and find out what all the fuss is about.”

“Ha!” Uncrossing her arms, she reaches up and taps her palm on my right shoulder. Even through my jersey and pads,she brands me. It’s the first time she’s touched me since I can remember, maybe since that night in Riley’s Bar. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

I force a cocky smirk, my eyes still trained on hers. “First, you wear another man’s jersey, and now you’re flirting with me. Tom can’t be happy.”

Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline. “You can convince yourself of anything, can’t you?”

I throw my head back and laugh. Fuck me, she’s a handful.

“You didn’t answer my question.” I refocus, and surprisingly, she’s still watching me when I return my eyes to hers.

“What exactly was your question?” she drawls.

“Tom. He can’t be happy.”

She pulls at the sleeve of her jersey and shrugs. “There’s no flirting, and personally, I don’t see what’s wrong with wearing my favorite player’s name.”

Oh, you are something else.

“Lies.”

“Unlikely, but don’t sweat it for me, babe. I doubt he cares since we split.”

I fight, with every ounce of goddamn will, to maintain an unaffected expression.

She’s single.

I open my mouth to list off all the reasons why wearing a player’s jersey speaks volumes and to ask her why the fuckI’mnot her favorite Scorpion, but I’m interrupted by a gloved hand on my shoulder.

“So I’ve got a fan club after all.” Jessie slides up next to me, jutting his chin at Kate. This guy is my best friend, but if he doesn’t wipe that smug smile from his face in the next second, I’ll remove it for him.

“All okay, Jensen?” Her sweet tone mocks me.

I won’t let her have this.

Be a fucking swan, Jensen.

“Yeah,” I retort. I’m thirty-two years old, but I’m not above acting thirteen. “Just thinking about tonight’s celebrations since I was the designated party planner.”

“I thought we were going to Riley’s and then back to your place?” Jessie replies, sounding as confused as Kate looks.

I don’t take my eyes off her when I reply, “Change of plans. Riley’s and then onto Heat.”

My dick might not respond to other women, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a couple on my lap.

Game on, Princess.

CHAPTER FIVE

KATE