Page 44 of Arresting the Hockey Player

The puck slides across the ice as Brass and I battle for control. He's a few inches taller and has fifty pounds on me. He uses it to his advantage, knocking me into the wall and drawing his stick up with a high swing, hitting me in the jaw.

The pain sears and burns. I curse under my breath.

"Want to say that to my face?" Brass taunts.

The referees don't seem to notice the dirty shot. It's either retaliate or ignore his pompous ass and focus on the game.

I choose the latter. "You're an asshole," I growl.

"My wife says the same thing about you. You used to like to eat hers out. You can eat mine all night if you want." He winks at me, laughing, amused with his joke.

Heat floods me even though the air is chilly. "Fuck you, Grant."

"No, thanks. But I'll take you up on that offer of that cute little redhead."

How the hell does he know about Charlotte?

My eyes flicker, and he snickers at me with a wicked grin as we fight for the puck, shoving each other back and forth against the wall. The battle seems unending between us.

"You can thank your buddy for that invite," he taunts.

Who the hell on the Ice Dragons is friends withhim? I ignore his comment. I'm not about to get thrown into the penalty box or ejected from a game because of a few choice words that he makes.

I refuse to let it get to me.

"And have you seen her sex tape? She'd look great with her mouth wrapped around my dick."

My brain fires with expletives. I can't listen to this crap from him, talking shit about Charlotte.

I charge at Brass, the puck at his feet as I slam him back into the boards. My hockey stick remains in my grip, battling for the puck before I drop it in favor of my fists. Blow after blow land on his chest and his face.

He's laughing, clearly pleased with riling me up, but he doesn't just stand there and take it. Grant pounds his fists into my chest, but I don't feel it.

It's not until his helmet flies off and my brothers on the team drag me away as the referees attempt to break us apart.

We're both thrown into our respective penalty boxes, the sin bin.

Hell, it was worth it.

But his words keep drifting through my head.

Sex tape.

* * *

How did we manage a win? My head wasn't in the game, and the guys played like they were distracted.

But a win is a win. It doesn't matter that we took the lead at the end and managed to scrape by with 3-2.

We shower and dress. A few guys handle the press junket while Jasper and I step out of the locker rooms to head to Blue Line to celebrate.

"That was a great game!" Charlotte is waiting with Amber and Emerson by the doors.

A smug grin tugs at my lips. "I didn’t know you were at the game," I say, staring at Charlotte.

She blushes, her cheeks not quite as red as her fiery hair, but she takes a step toward me and leans up on her tiptoes, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

"Congrats on the win," she says, her voice soft and tentative.