Page 100 of Forbidden Hockey

“I’m fucking excited,” he says once we’re in a changeroom that’s coated in steam and eucalyptus. He strips down, unveiling his perfect body, and slips into his robe. “This is the beginning of a beautiful bromance.”

Sadly, I can’t even argue. Who else do you go to a spa with other than a buddy you want to get to know? None of my bikerbrethren would be caught dead here, that’s for sure. But damn. The eucalyptus steam does smell nice.

Undressing, I reach for the fluffy white spa robe a tiny woman named Tina left for me.

“Dayum, Nolan. That body. No wonder you snagged yourself a young one.”

“Not so fucking loud,” I hiss. He might not have a care in the world, but I do.

“Don’t worry. No one else is here. Do you think I’d book a spa day without booking the whole place to ourselves?”

Of course, he did.

“The staff?—”

“I own this spa, did I forget to mention that? Anyone working for Elkington Enterprises signs an NDA. I often bring people here to talk shop.”

He’s still raking his eyes up and down my body. I pull my robe around me, tying it in firm tugs. Maybe he can trust his staff, but I can’t trust him.

Maxwell fiddles with my hair. “We’ve got to do something about this. It’s mangy like a dog that’s been out in the wild too long.”

I bat his hands away. “No touching me, Elkington.”

“Right, I apologize. Your man might take offense. I’ll leave the touching to the professionals. Come along then … oh, wait. Almost forgot.”

He pulls slippers from a basket. The ones for me are somehow my size—not an easy feat. I don’t have a standard foot size. But fuck are they ever comfortable. I might have to keep these. My toes can’t resist scrunching deep into the soft faux fur. These are faux fur, right? They’d better be fucking fake, but they’re too heavenly for me to ask a question I probably don’t want to know the answer to.

“Let’s go,” Elkington says. “Time to make the beast a beauty.”

Idon’t know what I was expecting. Maybe some creams, a few fancy potions … Instead, I was given something called a vampire facelift. I almost left the damn room, but once again I was swayed by the promise of a fountain of youth. From that point on, I resigned myself. It didn’t end there. Things were injected into my face. I had to sit under some red-light thing for an hour. I’ll admit that the full-body massage was fucking incredible, but I could have done without the mud bath.

And then my hair.

The hairdresser looked afraid to touch me, probably because I was giving “touch and I’ll stab” vibes after a day of being poked and prodded like a lab rat.

“Mayor Elkington had a style in mind, Mr. Nolan, sir.”

I waved a hand and growled, wanting to get the fuck out of there, but my last “handler” had already relayed the message that Maxwell was waiting for me on the terrace with a late spa lunch. I wasn’t getting out of here any time soon.

When the dude did the big reveal, he stepped back, most likely terrified for his life, and with good reason. The underside of my hair is gone. What’s left is still long, all the way to my shoulders, so the ability to hide my scalp is there, but if I sling one side, I look more like the beast man Dirk says I am.

I … actually fucking like it. But what if he doesn’t? Dammit. I’ll kill Elkington for this.

Storming onto the terrace, I find Maxwell, fully dressed, sipping on a glass of pinot gris with fancy plates of food in frontof him. He’s as fresh as a summer day. Is that caviar? Jesus, this guy. I pull out my chair like an angry bull. Maxwell drinks me in.

“Wow. Your man’s going to go wild.”

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

“I got them to highlight what was already there and shave some years away. Once the swelling goes down, everyone will assume you’re your son’s older brother.”

I calm down a bit. Do I really look that much younger? Fuck, if it were Dash worried about looking a certain way for someone, I’d lecture him on how looks don’t matter and a person should love you for you, yet here I am, playing into vanity. But, man, my skin’s looking the best it has in years, even with the swelling from that weird vampire facial.

“Let’s just get to the business you wanted to discuss, Maxwell. This was a slice, but I’ve got work to do and a son to call.” Also, a man to have long-distance sex with, but I’m not telling him that. He knows more about Dirk than I’ve ever wanted him to.

“I wanted to suggest a trip in August,” he says.

As it does when I’m with Maxwell, my blood runs cold. I know he’s suggesting that we go on a little Robin hunt.