Page 7 of Slap Shot (Blades Hockey #5)

Weston

What happened at the game tonight?

Someone talked shit about you.

Someone talked shit about you, and I lost my cool.

Someone talked shit about you, and I lost my cool, and Iˇd do it again, no questions asked, because you mean more to me than hockey, Daisy Hall.

¨Joe Morley happened,〃 is what I end up saying.

Still pressed against me, I feel Daisy stiffen at the name. ¨Oh.〃

¨And because he happened, Douglas North happened.〃

Her hand turns clammy in mine. ¨And Iˇm guessing that means you happened?〃

¨Might have. Yeah.〃 Letting out a careful breath, I confess, ¨Did my best impersonation of Andre Beaumont and spent a little time in the sin bin. You know, just your average Tuesday night.〃

¨Not for you, though,〃 she says.

¨Nah, not for me.〃

With a frustrated groan, Daisy leaps from the bed to pace the length of her bedroom. Sheˇs wearing an old pair of sweatpants that sheˇs double-rolled at the hips so that her feet donˇt get caught in the hem as well as a Hocus Pocus T-shirt thatˇs seen better days. This should be Daisy at her most relaxedmessy bun, oversized clothes, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of her nosebut sheˇs a hurricane of emotions as she roughly pulls her hair down before retying the long strands in another loose bun.

¨This is why I didnˇt want you to know.〃 Sheˇs barely lowered her arms before sheˇs yanking out the hair tie again. Wavy blond strands fall down around her shoulders. ¨I didnˇt want to get in the way of your job because thatˇs what hockey isitˇs your job .〃

¨Daisy〃

¨If you piss off the wrong people, itˇs all going to come crashing down. And if itˇs because of me?〃 Up those strands go again, slipping like silk through her fingertips as she winds them into another messy knot. ¨To know that the choices Iˇve made might ruin hockey for you?〃

¨Itˇs one bad night. Thatˇs it. Not the end of the world.〃

¨But it might be more than one bad night. It could be the whole season. I couldnˇt . . . West, I canˇt . . .〃 Her amber eyes burn with anguish. ¨What if Iˇve destroyed your dream? What ifwhat if the Blades say that you canˇt〃

¨Stop.〃

Daisy doesnˇt, though. She canˇt because sheˇs clearly swept up in worries that have nothing to do with reality. The Blades arenˇt going to trade me. For one, my contract is ironclad for another two years, and second, itˇs not as if fighting is against the rules. Yeah, the league cracks down on it more these days than they did when guys like Joey Kocur and Bob Probert were playing back in the eighties and nineties, but shit still gets physical on the ice, and every player knows the risk in dropping their gloves.

Even me.

Smoothly, I move from the bed and intercept Daisy with my hands on her shoulders. I donˇt pull her into a hugI donˇt think thatˇs what she needs right nowbut I make sure that my hold on her carries enough pressure to stop her in her tracks and catch her attention.

¨Breathe, Hall,〃 I murmur gently. ¨Slow down.〃

¨West〃

¨Thatˇs not breathing.〃

¨Iˇm trying, but〃

¨Look at me, Daisy-belle. Please.〃

Her glasses slip down her nose and she quickly pushes them back into place. This time, though, she does exactly what I tell her, tipping her head back so she can lift her panicked gaze up to mine. At first, her breaths are quick and shallow. So, I donˇt let her go. I stay right there where she needs me, measuring out my own breathing to the count of onetwothree until, finally, the tension in her shoulders takes a hike and she goes soft and pliant under my touch.

¨Iˇm not angry.〃 I might not have appreciated her making decisions for me, but clearly, Iˇm guilty of the same sin. ¨Me and you? Weˇre good.〃

¨But you should be angry, donˇt you get that? The world knowing about Bunny puts you at risk.〃

¨It doesnˇt.〃

¨You punched someone. Or you at least got physical with them. Iˇm pretty sure thatˇs the very definition of fucking things up for you.〃

¨If anyone fucked up, itˇs me.〃 I sweep my thumbs upward so I can cradle her face, make her really see me when I add, ¨I knew better than to react, but it is what it isI lashed out.〃

¨Because of me.〃

¨Because no one is ever gonna say shit about you, Daisy, and then walk away thinking that they can say it again.〃

With a curse, Daisy ducks under my arm to renew her anxious pacing. She wrings out her hands in front of her and then wraps her arms around her middle before finally coming to an abrupt standstill about three feet away. Jerking her chin up, she announces, ¨I quit my job today.〃

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, I feel my lips quirk in a grin. ¨The job you love so much?〃

¨Oh, fuck off,〃 she fires back but it lacks heat. Her expression turns sheepish. ¨Guess that means Iˇm not letting anyone think that they can say shit to my face, either.〃

I offer her a round of slow, dramatic applause. ¨Congratulations. You have standards.〃

¨Yeah, well, having standards means that I donˇt have an income, and I donˇt think my landlord will care that I was standing up for myself when I say that I canˇt afford to pay rent in a few months. Obviously, adulting is overrated. Ten out of ten do not recommend.〃

Wanting to mess with her, I say, ¨We could get married.〃

Her face does something funny. Not disgust, exactly, but something . Before I can pull that expression apart and dissect what it means, she jabs a finger in my direction like a schoolteacher reprimanding a wayward student. ¨We are not getting married.〃

¨Why not? Because you could do better?〃

Iˇm teasing, and she knows it, but her smile still takes a second to shift into place. ¨I could, actually.〃

¨Doubtful.〃 I flutter my lashes just to make her laugh. ¨I am the best, after all.〃

¨Your ego needs some work.〃

¨Some might argue that it doesnˇt need any work at all.〃

Rolling her eyes, Daisy flounces off to her closet to rummage inside for

Oh.

A burst of happiness fizzles in my chest when I realize that sheˇs grabbed a sweatshirt of mine from my first season with the Blades. The hem hangs low enough to graze her knees, and the sleeves are just as ridiculously long on her, but none of that stops her from pulling the material down over her head. After a quick fix of her glasses, she bypasses me to head for the hallway. ¨We arenˇt getting married, West. This isnˇt Hallmark.〃

Curious, I follow her into the kitchen. ¨Is that a thing that happens? In Hallmark movies, I mean? Some poor, unsuspecting woman blows her life to smithereens and then her very kind, very respectable best friend offers to marry her, so she doesnˇt have to sell everything and live out of a shoebox?〃

¨Who said that you were respectable?〃

¨Out of everything I said, thatˇs the only part that warrants a response?〃

¨Fine.〃 She spares me a feisty glance over her shoulder. ¨You arenˇt my best friend.〃

I bark out a husky laugh. ¨Nobody likes a liar, Hall.〃

¨Who said that Iˇm lying?〃

¨The same person who said that youˇre being a brat me .〃 When she snags her car keys from a bowl by the front door, I find myself grinning. A long time ago, I joked that we might become a lot like Bonnie and Clyde one day, and you know, aside from not having a string of dead bodies in our wake, I wasnˇt so far off from the truth. Every day with Daisy Hall is an adventure. ¨Where are we going?〃

¨The corner store. I want chips.〃

¨Comfort food, huh? The consequence of having standards.〃

¨I will stab you with these car keys, Weston, donˇt think that I wonˇt.〃

¨I wouldnˇt dare doubt you.〃 Easing my body in front of hers, I open the door and then wave her forward with a dramatic flourish of my arm. ¨After you, Mrs. Cain.〃

She visibly freezes

And then ever-so-slowly lifts those warm amber eyes up to my face. Somehow, she manages to keep her expression neutral long enough to threaten, ¨Keep that up, and I suggest sleeping with one eye open.〃

¨Thanks for the feedback. Iˇll take it into consideration.〃

All that neutrality quivers as her mouth twists into a deep frown that I knowfuck, I know is the only thing keeping her from collapsing with laughter. Instead, she plants her palm against my chest and gives me a playful shove. ¨I hate you.〃

¨I know you do, Mrs. Cain. Donˇt worrythe feeling is mutual.〃