Page 21 of Puck Love

Look, I wasn’t straight. But I generally didn’t gravitate to assholes.

Whatever.

So I noticed Trinsky’s muscular tattooed torso. So what? The vibrant inked patterns of bird wings, a heart, a thorny rose, and barbed wires gleamed in the dull light, accentuating every contour of his toned pecs and thick biceps. Nothing I hadn’t seen a few dozen times. Trinsky had always been one of the first summer camp coaches to whip his shirt off after a day in the rink or a regular season game or for social media content and promotional BS. Those inked abs, arms, and giant thighs had been featured on countless ads.

This wasn’t my first up-close glimpse of this supremely annoying man, but it was the first time I’d felt a physical reaction to him that wasn’t fury. I mean…that was there too—along with an inexplicable thought that he looked…sexy. And that his twinkling eyes and the dimples on his lightly bearded jaw were kind of…appealing.

Either I really needed to get laid, or there was something wrong with me.

Thankfully, Trinsky was oblivious.

“Oh, c’mon, man. Don’t be a buzzkill…or an erection killer,” he snickered.

I glared. “Go. To. Sleep. And don’t touch your fucking dick.”

He lifted his hands and waggled his fingers. “I was messin’ with you, Milligan. I wasn’t actually going to jerk myself a soda.”

I should have turned the lantern off, rolled over, and put an end to a nowhere discussion with the NHL’s biggest moron, but my gaze snagged on his puckered nipples. I sucked on my tongue, mentally imagining what it would feel like to touch a man.

Not Trinsky, of course. Just…someone with male parts. I knew I was bi, but I hadn’t done much exploring in gay waters. And I had no idea why I was thinking about that right now.

“Uh…good. Keep it that way,” I replied gruffly.

“The problem with you is that you can’t take a joke. Don’t sweat it—I’ll wait till you go to sleep to beat off.”

I slid deeper into my sleeping bag. “Stop being so…you.”

Trinsky reached for the lantern but dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. “You mean awesome? I’ll try…if you stop being such an uptight asswipe.”

“Right. I think I like you better when you’re joking about your masturbation habits. Now, please shut the fuck up. Today was brutal. I need sleep.”

“Same.” He flicked the light off. “How many times have you been camping in these woods?”

“Dozens.”

“Have you ever come across a bear?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Gulp. Big, small, what are they like?”

“Are you scared?” I teased. Again, I should have rolled over, but…this was harmless chatter. Maybe it would lull the beast to sleep.

“Not if you’re here to protect me.”

“Hmph.”

“I never went camping when I was a kid,” he said softly. “I know this weekend raises money for a good cause and all, but I can’t help thinking these little shits probably don’t appreciate catered lunches, dinners, and hang time with professional athletes. This is uber-elite pampering…except for the threat of bears.”

I agreed with him, and that was another one for the weird column. “Nature is the great equalizer.”

“A thousand percent. It’s why I surf.”

I’d tried to surf in Bali and had almost been taken out by a wave. It was humbling for sure and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that it had felt like I’d had a near brush with death, but I caught myself. No sharing major life events with the enemy.

“Why aren’t you surfing now?” I snapped.Great.Way to sound like a petulant teenager, Milligan.

“I’m here for PR reasons. You know, to save your ass.”