Page 1 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

JUNE

GOLF CART CATASTROPHE

I began my shift by disappointing the front desk manager of student admissions…for the ten thousandth time.

“Morning, Sherri!” I called.

“You’re fifteen minutes late.”

“I know, I’m sorry?—”

“ Again. Fifteen minutes late, again .”

“I’ll do somebody’s paperwork!”

Her sigh was the loudest sound in the lobby.

The cartoon Roman with a scroll— Marrs University wasn’t built in a day!

—hanging on the wall welcomed in new students, and me, a housing assistant director who was up so early I felt hungover.

I wasn’t usually the one to give tours to athletes, or in the admissions office at all, but I’d been assured this was an emergency.

And I needed all of the good graces offered.

I grabbed the blue folder off the counter marked HOCKEY TRANSFER and swiped open to?—

Oh no.

I stared in disbelief at the black-and-white print of Bear Moreau, a disinterested look in his dark eyes, hockey stick resting over his shoulder.

It was the kind of dominant pose that showed how comfortable he was with his body and the muscles hinted at in the outline of his jersey.

His dark hair parted in the middle, swept-back?—

What am I doing?

Was I seriously ogling my cheating ex’s stepbrother?

I snapped the folder shut. “I can’t give the tour.”

“ What? ” Sherri demanded. “June, I’ve put up with your crap for months? — ”

Ugh. She was right, everybody had. When we started university, my ex and I picked the same organizations because we wanted to run the campus together.

Fantastic for carpooling yet devastating for trying to avoid somebody post-breakup.

Now, when I needed to do anything, I had to make sure Xavier wouldn’t be there.

My stomach churned at the thought.

“Bear Moreau is the one guy I can’t give a tour to,” I pleaded. “I’d rather drag a corpse around campus and let the wild squirrels pick off of it.”

“June—”

“I’ll scour the sidewalks with a toothbrush!”

“ June— ”

“I’ll rip out my fingernails! Anyone but Bear?—”

“ June! ” Her eyes were directed behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder seeing who I should’ve checked for all along.

Bear pushed himself from one of the stiff lounge chairs. So much taller than I realized, he easily towered over me, his cut jaw twitching with irritation. My heart thumped as he stared me down, as unamused as he looked in that picture.

“B—Bear—” I stammered.

“Yeah. But you know that already.”

The only interaction I had with Bear was the photos he bothered to send to his family from his college in North Dakota.

Whenever it came time for us to meet up, he always had crappy excuses.

Canceling yet again. The aloof brother who was too busy being a star hockey player to spend time with his family.

“June, everyone’s busy,” Sherri piped up from the desk. “You need to give the tour.”

Bear’s scowl was deep. “I don’t need a tour.”

“Yes, you do,” I sighed, every word brimming with reluctance. “It’s part of your housing contract.”

This was a new walk of shame as I mumbled through embarrassed apologies, leading him to the only golf cart left in the garage. Seriously, the June from before would’ve never slipped up like that.

All I had to do was take him and his paperwork to Roman Villa then drive him to the Orson J. Portnoy Ice Arena on campus, nicknamed the Colosseum. I started the golf cart and rattled off useless facts about the law library.

Marrs University was situated about ten minutes away from downtown Houston, so close to the equator everyone around us had electric fans and loud complaints about the humidity.

We had around forty thousand students, which meant the end of spring semester left the streets clogged.

Students were packing cars and lugging suitcases down the sidewalk to leave for home.

I weaved through the families, booking it to Roman Villa as fast as possible.

“I shit in your Cheerios?” Bear finally grunted. “How’d I piss you off?”

I winced. “You didn’t, I’m—um—June Basil.”

“And?”

“June Basil?” I stole a look at him, stiff and uncomfortable in the seat next to me, taking up most of the space until our legs were almost touching. “Your stepbrother and I…dated, and it didn’t end well.”

“Xavier doesn’t date,” he replied.

“Uh, we dated for years.”

“I think I know my own brother.”

“Your dad’s name is Frank Hodges,” I frowned. “Your stepmother’s name is Shawna Lisco-Hodges. She used to own an African gray parrot she inherited from?—”

“Are you my brother’s stalker or something?” He whistled. “I get it. You fucked and now you’re dick crazy.”

I accidentally swerved the golf cart. “I’m not dick crazy!”

“Just regular crazy then?”

“You’re so rude,” I shot back.

“Says the girl who’d rather drag a corpse?—”

“I didn’t know you were behind me!” The golf cart broke to the grass, and I swore. “You should’ve said something!”

“Drop me off here. I don’t trust you in a moving vehicle.”

I had something else to fire at him, but my words stalled as I caught sight of a figure, grinning hard.

I slammed the accelerator, but Elijah Contractor, an enforcer on the hockey team, and one of the most annoying people I’d ever met, sprinted our way. The golf cart was no match. I swerved again, this time on purpose, but Elijah leaped into the backseat.

“Thanks for the ride!” Elijah said cheerfully.

“Get out!” I gripped the steering wheel. “Damn hockey players.”

“Big Dick Bear,” Elijah sang, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” Bear warned.

“Welcome to the Texas Ice Hockey Collegiate Conference?—”

“Don’t talk to me.”

Elijah laughed. “Did you confer with our glorious captain yet?”

“I haven’t seen Oleksy?—”

“Oleksy dropped.”

Bear turned around, his voice deadly quiet. “I’m giving you ten seconds to explain.”

My eyes flickered to his. “You don’t know?”

“I’m not taking news from a stalker who can’t drive?—”

“Fuck you.”

“—which is the only thing you’re supposed to be doing.”

I hit the curb at Roman Villa, and Elijah jumped out, stretching his arms in a wide arc. “Half the transfers dropped when they saw the Colo. No renovations since February, and with Oleksy gone, our new captain is Denali Maddox.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Bear got out too. “Denali Maddox is our captain?”

“And Big Dick Bear is our photographer.”

Bear’s eyes flashed. Danger, danger. He stalked up to Elijah and snagged his shirt, yanking him forward.

That was what Elijah loved best—pushing people until a fight broke out.

Which I could’ve let happen. But while Elijah was a pain in the neck, his twin was one of my best friends.

Zariah would’ve killed me if I stood idly by and watched her brother get torn to ribbons.

“Guys, break it up!”

“What the fuck did you say?” Bear snarled.

“Best photographer?” Elijah taunted. “Or should I say best model?”

I tried to get their attention until I realized that the golf cart wasn’t where I left it.

Because I forgot to put it in park.

“Bear!” I ran after the golf cart rolling down the hill. “That’s your luggage! It’s going to the lake!”

“Oh, shit!” rang in the air before his footsteps pounded the concrete behind me.