Page 89 of Hockey Halloween
Mason
Has no one ever told her that it’s rude to stare?
I brush the pool of sweat from my brow with the back of my forearm, and grunt as someone shifts the weight of the section of the maze clasped between my hands.
What is her problem? Hasn’t she ever seen someone disfigured before?
Ugh. And she’s talking to Athena, casting furtive glances this way like I can’t feel the heat of her stare as obviously as if she was pinching my skin with every glance.
“She’s single.” Apollo follows my line of sight, clearly misinterpreting my frustration as attraction. I mean, she’s an attractive woman, but I didn’t miss how her body reacted to me when she saw my scar.
“Not interested.”
He smirks. “Might want to tell your dick that.”
Fucker’s right. My dick’s trying to punch a hole out of my jeans. I thought I moved it enough to hide it, but clearly my captain has caught a glimpse of the trouser snake.
He points a finger at me. “I’m right, aren’t I? Dick’s so hard you could cut glass. ”
Ares appears next to his brother. “Whose dick’s cutting glass?”
I groan. The only thing worse than one matchmaking de la Pena is two.
“Mac here has the horn for our new charity manager.”
Ares taps his chin with a dirty finger. “I could see it. She’s single.”
I roll my eyes with a shake of my head. “Not interested.”
Ares points at my face. “Might want to tell that blush in your cheeks you’re not interested.”
I gesture at the slowly diminishing pile of maze pieces in the middle of the open space. “Manual labor makes people hot.”
Both men fold their arms and exchange an incredulous look. “We’ve seen you squat two hundred pounds without breaking a sweat, Mac. Why can’t you just admit you’re hot for Lilith?”
Because she recoiled in horror at the disgusting and huge jagged scar down the side of my face?
“Because I don’t have time for women. Not everyone needs to be paired off now that you’re both happily tied down.”
Artemis appears as if silently summoned by his brothers as reinforcements. “Who’s getting tied down?”
I spear my finger in his direction. “Don’t you fucking start, Arte. What you and Xavier do in the privacy of your own home isn’t any of my business. I don’t consent to hearing about your kinks.”
He snickers. “You fucking wish, Mac.” He scrubs his jaw with the palm of his hand. “She’s single, you know.”
His brothers dissolve into raucous laughter, and I throw my hand up and leave them to their cupid conspiring. I need to put these rumors to bed. I need to walk up to Lilith, the bewitching night monster, and tell her straight to stop staring at my face.
Someone’s hand touches my forearm. “She’s been burned before,” Apollo cautions.
Ares’s face falls somber. “She’s a Johnny White victim.”
Fuck, that piece of shit gets around.
“She moved here to get a clean break because she was the talk of her small town when their relationship imploded.”
And by imploded they mean that fucker ground her down to dust and shoved her heart through a woodchipper.
It’s bastards like him that give hockey players a bad name.
The toxic masculinity in the sport is growing old for the good ones among us.
I don’t know how the rest of the dating pool feels, but most days I feel like standing in the street shouting that I’m not one of them.
I might be a big, brooding bastard, but enthusiastic consent is my favorite thing. And anyone on the ice who is known to treat women like shit may find themselves on the receiving end of the occasional high stick, or elbow, or stray fist.
And God help the day anyone crosses my younger sister.
I’ll do fucking time. They’ll find his body parts scattered around the state, and I wouldn’t even bury them.
It would be a warning to every man who ever dates her that, when I get out of prison for murdering her abusive ex, I’ll go after them if they hurt her.
Zero fucks given.
“Easy, Turbo.” Artemis cups his hand around my clenched fist. “He’s not here, and even if he was, we need you helping with this fucking maze and not in prison for rearranging Johnny White’s face.”
My jaw hurts from clenching. “Why the fuck can’t they just keep it in their pants and not be pricks?”
The brothers look at me like it’s as much of a mystery to them as it is to me.
“Society hates women, that’s why.”
I damn near jump out of my skin when Athena de la Pena’s voice appears out of nowhere, joining the conversation. “And they don’t care who knows it.” She flashes me a wicked, knowing grin when I turn back to face her. “She’s single, you know.”
I cover my face with my hand, but not before catching a glimpse of her dancing, suggestive eyebrows.
The only thing worse than two matchmaking de la Penas is when the whole set get involved. And, as I try to turn my attention back to the work at hand, part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s time to get back out into the dating pool. Maybe it’s a case of right time, wrong girl?