Page 6

SIX

SAINT

“Yeah, Golden Girl, I got it .” I lift two fingers to my forehead and give her a salute, tossing her a shit-eating smile that has her glaring even harder at me.

Her pink, pillowy lips are pursed into an annoyed scowl as she throws daggers at me with piercing emerald eyes, arms crossed over her chest, chin lifted in defiance.

She finally rolls her eyes and lifts her middle finger toward me before she skates off.

Damn.

That ass.

I run my tongue over my teeth, shaking my head at the thought.

Lennon Rousseau has surprised me, and that takes a lot.

I’ve always been good at reading people.

I’m the quiet one who sits back and observes rather than engages, and if I had a superpower or some shit, it would be knowing exactly who someone is the moment they open their mouth. I’ve usually got someone all figured out from the jump, but this girl?

This girl… she’s a fucking spitfire. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t take my shit lying down, and that’s the part that surprises me.

I expected her to never show up again after how much of a dick I was to her last time, but instead, she doubled down.

I spend the majority of my time on the ice intimidating grown-ass men into fucking up, but this fun-sized little redhead wasn’t even fazed.

I would almost respect it if she wasn’t the daughter of the man I hate.

Which is exactly why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her and what led me to ultimately asking Legros about her the other day at practice. And looking up articles on the internet, searching for her socials, even though I don’t have any myself.

She’s right, she did leave an impression, and apparently, my new obsession is finding out everything I could about both her and her asshole of a father.

I’ve spent the last eight years of my life thinking about how I could ever inflict the same amount of pain on Edward Rousseau as he has on my family.

It’s one of the only things I felt like I had left when my life was falling apart… my hatred.

I held on to it like a raft on a sinking ship.

Her father’s always deserved whatever fucked-up karma was headed his way. I just never thought that it would be in the form of me.

Until now.

It seemed almost too perfect for this, for her , to just fall into my lap like this.

It’s like the universe was presenting the perfect opportunity to me, wrapped with a bow on top. And I’d be a fucking fool not to take it.

What better way to get revenge on the man who ruined my life, who fucked up any good I ever had, who fucked up my family’s reputation than to give him a taste of his very own medicine.

What would it look like if I took Edward Rousseau’s precious, untouched good girl and dirtied her up?

The idea began with the first little granule of information— her name —and has since morphed into something else entirely.

I’m going to ruin her the very same way her father ruined my family.

Every bit of information I learn from this point forward, I’m planning to weaponize and use against OU’s golden girl to get the revenge I deserve.

Granted, I know she’s not just going to stumble over to this side of the tracks for a guy like me, so I know I’m going to have to put in work, probably be slightly less of an asshole, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

Although something tells me she likes going toe to toe with me, even if she doesn’t realize it yet, or if she does, she’d rather bite off her tongue than admit it.

Looking over, my gaze moves back to where she’s skating in slow, measured circles on the opposite side of the ice, looking every bit the rich, spoiled daddy’s girl.

Her long red hair is low on her nape in a tight braid that hangs down her back. Her light pink, pleated skirt falls mid-thigh, leaving her pale, creamy legs on display and the fitted lavender bodysuit is molded around her ample curves.

Golden Girl might be my key to revenge, but I’d have to be blind not to notice how hot she is.

I turn my back toward her and start warming up, skating from one side of the ice to the line and back in short, quick sprints that get my heart rate up.

Each time I do a lap, I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye, the same way she is, because our eyes keep connecting, and she quickly turns away when she realizes I’ve caught her staring.

I move to the net and line up pucks so I can work on my slap shot.

I’m the best winger on the team, and it’s going to stay that way.

There’s a frustrated sigh from behind me, so I turn and see Lennon attempting to do some type of twirl that I won’t even begin to name, but she falls.

Judging by the amount of powdered ice currently covering her skirt, legs, and ass, it’s not the first time.

“Ouch. Need some help?” I call out from across the ice.

Her head whips to where I’m standing, leaning against my stick, her eyes turning hard as they burn holes into me. “No, but thank you for asking. I’m sure it pained you to do so.”

My lips curl at the edges. I should probably leave well enough alone, at least for now. But fucking with her is the most fun I’ve had in a while, so nah. Fuck that.

I skate toward her, crossing her metaphorical and figurative line drawn in the middle of the ice, coming to a slow stop in front of her.

“You know, it looks like you might be out of practice. Sure it’s safe for you to be trying shit like that?” My tone is condescending, hitting something that makes her body go taut. I feel the corner of my lip tugging as I try and fight the urge to grin but fail.

It’s too much fun watching her expression turn murderous and her eyes narrowing into slits.

Up this close, I notice how flushed she is, a bloom of red on her cheeks from exertion.

There’s a small bead of sweat hanging on her skin just above her plump lips, which are currently pursed into a tight scowl.

“Did you miss the part where I said you stay on your side of the ice, and I’ll stay on mine?

Or is your hearing as bad as your personality? ”

Apparently, she saves all of her hatred for me because Bennett said that everyone loves her, that she’s kind and nice to everyone.

Even fucking better.

I can deal with hatred. Actually, I prefer it.

“Nah, I did. I just chose to ignore it.” I skate a slow circle around her, letting my gaze linger on her hips before I stop in front of her, closer this time.

Her throat bobs as she lifts her chin and squares her shoulders like she’s preparing for battle.

“Real bad at authority. Following directions. Especially from spoiled little rich girls.”

There’s an audible gasp that slips past her lips, eyes glinting with animosity that, I’m not going to lie… turns me the fuck on.

“I’d rather be a spoiled rich girl than an asshole with a grudge against the world because of his mommy issues.”

My brow arches. She’s got teeth, sharper than I expected and not far off but not quite there yet.

“What’s with all the hostility? I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”

Scoffing, she crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and I’m the president of your fan club. Look, we have less than an hour. Can you go back over there”—she waves her hand dismissively—“and chase your little puck around so we can stop wasting time? Unlike you, I actually need to be here.”

“Oh, I know, I can tell.”

I swear, I can see fucking steam radiating off her, and my crooked smile only seems to make it worse.

“You’re such a dick,” she says through clenched teeth. “As if you could do any better. Anyone can pick up a stick and hit a puck into a stupid net.”

“Yeah?”

She nods with a cheeky smile, glaring at me. “Yep. It’s not like it’s rocket science. Stick… puck… net.”

I step closer. “Prove it.”

“W-what?”

I’ve caught her off guard by calling her bluff.

Reaching into the front of my hoodie pocket, I pull out a puck and drop it onto the ice between us. “Put your money where your mouth is. If it’s so easy to get the puck into the net, do it. Get it by me.”