Page 46 of Forbidden Hockey

Okay, so I didn’t tell him the whole truth, but I didn’t lie either. He must have blabbed to his dad.

“It’s one fucking night, Trav. It doesn’t mean anything.” I’d do the whole ask permission thing like last time, but that was mostly in fun. This isn’t.

His jaw’s tighter than I’ve ever seen it. “It means something to me.”

“The fuck it does, Trav. You’ve been ignoring me again, so I did what I had to. I’m going.” I toss my cloth into the sink and storm out of the bar. He doesn’t follow.

Arthur’s an accountant from Vancouver Island. He moved to the mainland three years ago. He’s no hockey player, but he definitely works out and has some size to him. If I wasn’t already in love with my best friend’s dad, I’d totally be into Arthur.

We meet at a coffee shop I don’t usually frequent beforehand so that I can give him the rundown. It’s walking distance from Hunter’s, so the plan is to get coffee and head up there once he’s in the know.

I tell him the situation, and things are going well until he places a hand over mine. It’s smooth, not a single imperfection to it. All wrong.

“Look, I know you said this wasn’t a sex thing, but instead of paying me in money, I’d be willing to?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “Not interested.”

“But, fuck, you’re so … you.”

Yeah, I’m good-looking. So what? Doesn’t mean I’m sleeping around. My ass belongs to someone else, even if that someone else royally pissed me off earlier.

We finish our coffees and head down Fraser Street into the quieter suburbs where Hunter lives.

“Oof!” My back hits a large cherry blossom tree, and Arthur has me pressed up against it. Fucking dammit.

“C’mon, Dirk. Just suck my dick. We’ll call it even. Otherwise, I’m gonna dip.”

Fucking, cocksucking, motherfucker. I’m gonna rip this guy a new one, is what I’m gonna do.

I don’t get the chance.

The low rumble hits my chest before I see him, the deep, thunderous growl of his bike crawling up my spine. Every hair on my body rises as a familiar motorcycle pulls up—Trav, riding it like it’s a warhorse. Before I can take a second breath, Trav’s off his bike, ripping the guy off me.

Crack!

Holy shit. Trav’s knuckles right across Arthur’s pretty cheekbone. Travis is a gruesome sight, swinging his fists like that, trying to be my dark knight on a motorbike. His muscles ripple, hair swaying with his sharp movements.

“That’s your only warning. Put your hands on him ever again, and you’ll stop breathing forever.”

I shudder. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s a snarling, feral beast.

Arthur’s a dick, but he’s not stupid. He hightails it back to the main roads, leaving me with the wolverine that took over Trav’s body. He’s next to press me against the tree, his barrel chest inhaling and exhaling in time with my lungs. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not to take away from the hero thing you’ve got going on—because it’s super fucking hot—but I was fine. I was about to tune his clock myself.”

“And hurt these all-star fists? No way. If you’re gonna break ‘em, they get broken on the ice.”

That’s real fucking sweet, but everything’s still ruined, and I’m gonna have to tell Hunter—kinda. He’s not getting the full truth, but at least I’ve got sweet-ass Trav in place of the onethat was avoiding me for weeks. The one being a dick at the restaurant earlier. Not that I’m letting him off the hook for that, but I can’t stand when we’re at odds.

“What’re you doing here? Did you follow me?”

“Clearly.” Guess he’s not even gonna hide it.

“And you’ve got a damn criminal record. What if he presses charges?”

Trav shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that. Fuck.” I’m in his arms, though. It’s hard to be too mad when I’m in his arms.