Page 171 of Forbidden Hockey

Before I can belt off several choice words, I catch something. He looks to Hunter. He says something and waits for Hunter’s reaction. This isn’t about the burgers, or Travis, I think this is his strange way of flirting.

Well, well, well. He’s into my brother, but maybe he hasn’t admitted it to himself yet.

And that’s how dinner goes. Riley complaining about everything, insulting everyone, while Hunter glares, shoveling food into his mouth, not doing a thing to stop him. Probablyin an attempt not to encourage him, but it doesn’t work. It’s pretty clear to anyone with eyes that Hunt’s annoyed, and Riley’s feasting on it.

At least he’s feasting on something.

I prod and learn that they met through work—the Moretti brothers are building one of Riley’s grandfather’s new hotels. Riley’s super fucking offended that I don’t know who he is after he drops the Madden name.

“How do you not know who I am?”

“I dunno, how do you not know who Wayne Gretzky is?” He doesn’t know shit about hockey.

But it’s worth putting up with Riley to watch my brother. I’ve never seen him like this. He prides himself on having his shit together, but hesodoes not have his shit together tonight. No one else would pick up on it—my brother maintains his stone visage—but he’s a wreck.

When we’re getting ready to go, Trav says his goodbyes and leans toward my ear. “Take your time, baby. I’ll wait by the bike as long as you need me to,” he says, sensing we need some privacy.

Riley doesn’t give my brother the same courtesy, leaning against the porch rail with his arms crossed, all the vengeance of a fallen angel plastered on his face. He’s wishing I’d disintegrate, isn’t he?

“Riley, go inside. I want to talk to my brother.”

“And I want to hear what you’ll say to him.”

“Go.”

“I don’t take orders from you. You take orders from me.”

“For the love of … remember that thing you wanted me to do?”

A devilish smile spills across Riley’s face.

“Not that thing, the other thing.”

“I want your brother to fuck me, but he refuses,” Riley says, hoping to push Hunter over the edge. “So, I said I’d settle for a massage—it’s a long day wearing heels and being important—but he told me to go fuck myself. It was mean.”

“Do you want the massage or not?” Hunter’s hands clench.

“Want.”

“Then go.”

Riley stares me up and down before his deadly gaze meets mine. It’s a warning. Hunter yanks him by the wrist to get him moving. “Stop eye-threatening my brother.”

“Night, Dirk.” Riley smirks.

Hunter stares after him as if he can’t believe he’s real, and he’s the viper that Hunt’s afraid to let out of his sight for too long.

“Are you sure you wanna date this guy, Hunt?”

“Date him? I can’t date Riley Madden, Dirk.”

Okay, what? I know I’m not reading my brother wrong. “If he’s acting like he’s too good for you, I’ll?—”

“No. I mean, well, he does, but Riley’s grandfather wants him to marry an elite. Riley’s got his sights set on some rich business tycoon. He’s just staying here because …” Hunter trails off. “It’s a long story.”

“He wants you to fuck him, maybe he doesn’t like the other guy so much.”

“He doesn’t like the other guy so much. It would be an arrangement. A status thing.”