Page 3
Story: Scoring with My Dirty Dare (Ice Chronicles Hockey #3)
3
Piper
The whiskey burns in my throat as I down the toast, the taste as bitter as the deal I just made.
It slams into my stomach like fire, rushing straight to my head. The world tilts just a little, the bonfire’s glow too bright, the laughter around me too loud. I brace a hand on my hip to steady myself, but my fingers slip slightly against the damp fabric of my jeans.
Shit. I’m drunker than I thought.
Sadie laughs. “We’ll see, Piper. Good luck.” She glides away, leaving me feeling like the center of a twisted game I never asked to play.
Her satisfied smirk is etched in my mind like a brand. My hands are shaking—from rage or fear, I'm not sure which.
I turn on my heel, needing to walk this off, needing to move. Except my body doesn’t cooperate.
The ground shifts under me—or maybe I just miscalculated. Either way, when I reach for the nearest tree to steady myself, it’s not as close as I thought. My fingers catch nothing but air before my balance gives out.
Shit. I’m falling.
It feels like slow motion—the bonfire flickers at the edges of my vision, the laughter around me stretching into something distant, warped. And then, through the blur, I see movement. Madison, sprinting toward me.
Strong hands grab my arms just before I hit the ground.
“Jesus, Piper,” Madison mutters, her breath slightly uneven as she steadies me. “What the hell was that?”
I blink up at her, the world still spinning at the edges. My pulse pounds against my ribs. My pride stings almost as much as my shoulder. “Nothing,” I mutter, shaking her off. “Just lost my balance.”
She doesn’t buy it for a second. “Yeah, okay.” She presses a cold bottle of water into my palm. “Drink. Before you actually faceplant.”
I scowl, but I unscrew the cap anyway, taking a long gulp that does nothing to wash down the humiliation.
"What was that about?" Madison whispers. "I saw you toasting with Sadie like she's your new bestie."
I pull her aside, quickly explaining about Sadie's dare, though I leave out the blog blackmail. "She basically dared me to make Jake fall for me."
Madison's expression softens. "Piper, this is insane. You hate guys like him. Why on earth—"
“Because I won’t be cornered,” I snap. Then I force a shaky exhale.
There’s the other matter, too. If Sadie really can blow my secret wide open, I’ve got no choice. My sponsors are already bailing… The lawsuit…
Madison’s expression softens. “I get it. Just…be careful, okay?”
“I will.”
Not letting Sadie see me stressed. I reach for another drink passing by on a server's tray, ignoring my better judgment, but Madison's hand shoots out to stop me. I give her my best pleading look.
After a moment, she sighs and grabs the drink herself, pressing it into my hand. "You know what? Fine. Keep drinking. I'll be here tomorrow with Gatorade, Alka-Seltzer, and those nuclear-level spicy tacos from Miguel's that you swear cure everything." She squeezes my arm. "Just... stay where I can see you, okay? And no more dares, no getting naked, or anything else equally stupid. "
I snatch the drink, managing a weak smile. At least someone's on my side. "Thanks, Mads."
After a few minutes of restless wandering, I look around for Jake—half hoping he’s within earshot, half dreading it. But he’s gone. Typical.
I huff in frustration. “The one time I actually want to see that arrogant bastard…”
Madison arches a brow. “Big talk, tough girl.”
I roll my shoulders, my defenses snapping back into place. “I’ve dealt with worse men in my life than some cocky hockey star. At least this time, I know what I’m getting into—a total scoundrel with a charming smile.”
She looks ready to argue but seems to think better of it. “Just watch your back,” she says quietly.
I let out a derisive laugh. “Story of my life.”
The bonfire crackles louder, sparks flying up into the night. Clusters of drunken festival-goers chatter around us, oblivious to the drama swirling in my head. The thought of the Substack threat churns in my gut—someone out there knows my secrets.
And now Sadie is blackmailing me. Lovely.
"Mads?" My voice comes out smaller than I intend. "What if I can't win this stupid dare?"
Madison's eyes soften as she guides me to a quiet spot near the barn. "Look, not that I approve of any of this, but since you're in it..." She squeezes my arm. "You're wickedly smart, Piper. Just treat it like one of your articles—plan a strategy."
"Strategy?" I lean against the barn wall, the rough wood grounding me. "Right. Shouldn't be that hard. My mom always said to win a man's heart, you just need to give them the three Fs."
Madison snorts into her drink. "Let me guess... Food and... fuck?"
"Food is one." I can't help but grin. "And fuck is definitely one I will not be doing with stupid Jake Ice."
"What's the third? Flirt?"
"Good guess, but no. Flattery." I take another sip, grimacing. "Every man's got an ego that needs stroking, according to dear old Mom."
"As long as his ego is the only thing of Jake's you stroke," Madison says with a wicked grin.
"Oh my God, Mads!" I choke on my drink, caught between horror and laughter. "You're terrible. And definitely drunk."
"I can see that working. Feed Jake, flatter him... if you won't fuck him then you'll only give him two Fs."
"I could give him the Finger."
"Yeah, no. That's a bad joke," she groans, but she's laughing. "So your mom's like some relationship Yoda, huh? 'The F-force is strong with this one'?"
"Yup. Dear Old Mom. That's what she always said."
"Did it work for her?"
"Nah. Didn't work out so great. That's why she ended up alone—which I think is actually better." I stare into my cup. "Or maybe it did work—she just used it on assholes who stomped all over her heart. Including my dad, king of empty promises." I force a laugh. "The only good thing I got from him in eight years was learning enough about hockey to make a career out of it."
"Oh, Piper." Madison's voice is soft. "I'm sorry."
"Did I ever tell you dear Dad was a pro puckster?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Ironic, right?"
"No, you never talked about your parents before." Madison raises an eyebrow. "Maybe I should have broken out the whiskey sooner."
"Yeah, well." I straighten up, shaking off the memories. "Enough therapy for one bonfire."
"Hey." She bumps my shoulder with hers. "No charge. That's what friends are for."
Warmth that has nothing to do with whiskey spreads through my chest. I pull her into a quick, fierce hug. "You're the best, Mads."
I tilt my cup in a toast. "To shutting up the snakes," I say, forcing a grin.
She clinks her cup against mine, though worry still clouds her eyes.
We drink. My head spins with whiskey and dread, but a spark of determination blazes hotter than the bonfire. Yes, I'll play along with Sadie's manipulative dare. I'll dance with the devil if I have to. But nobody puts Piper in a corner without facing the consequences.
Somewhere beyond the glow, I spot him.
The world still spins at the edges of my vision, but he comes into sharp focus—Jake Ice, black T-shirt stretched over muscle, moving through the crowd like he owns the whole damn festival. Like he owns the air I'm struggling to breathe.
I lean against a nearby post, striking my best "I totally meant to do this" pose. One hip cocked, arm draped artfully overhead like I'm auditioning for America's Next Top Model. Totally casual. Totally not using this post as the only thing keeping me vertical right now.
His head turns, like he feels me watching him.
Our eyes lock, heat crackling between us like a live wire.
He doesn’t smirk—not quite—but his mouth curves in something infuriating, like he already knows I’m picturing things I shouldn’t be.
I narrow my eyes.
He lifts his beer to his lips, slow, deliberate. Keeps his gaze on me as he drinks. The way his throat works as he swallows makes heat pool between my thighs. I imagine those lips on my neck, my breasts, trailing lower until—
No. Stop it.
But my body isn't listening. My nipples tighten painfully against my bra, and I cross my arms to hide the evidence. A pulse of need throbs between my legs, insistent and demanding. I hate how easily he affects me, how my body betrays me with every heated look.
And then? He walks away.
Like I’m not even worth his time.
The nerve. The arrogance. The sheer audacity of this man.
Oh, it’s on.
Taking a steadying breath, I motion for Madison to follow me toward the heart of the party. “C’mon, let’s enjoy this bonfire. Or at least pretend to.”
But my mind isn’t on the fire. It’s on him.
That cocky bastard just walked away like I was nothing. Like I wasn’t standing there, watching him, wanting him.
I swallow down the last of my whiskey, the burn nothing compared to the slow, simmering irritation curling through me.
Fine .
If he wants to act like I don’t exist? Like he’s untouchable?
I’m going to make damn sure he notices me.
I tilt my chin, my smile razor-sharp.
This game? It’s already started.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3 (Reading here)
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- Page 39
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