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I had to get away from that table immediately or I was going to finish the job that I left on the ice. She fucking kissed him? I don’t care that it was on his damn cheek. Her lips were on his skin and that fucking bothers me. Did the other night mean nothing?

I practice my breathing exercises to calm down my anger, when in the corner of my eye, I sense the very woman who brings me to my knees. She has no idea the effect she has on me. It doesn’t help that she walked into this damn room with the sexiest dress I’ve ever seen on any woman. Who am I kidding? Brooke could’ve walked into the venue with a bright pink shirt and overalls and still commanded the room with her presence. She always has.

Just go talk to her. You need to talk to her now. Before it’s too late.

I can’t let Hastings go home with her.

I slowly make my way over to Brooke, who is pretending like I don’t exist. Typical Brooke.

I notice she is perusing the stay in Telluride that I anonymously donated. Tapping the pen against the table while simultaneously tapping her foot in the same nervous fashion.

I clear my throat and Brooke flinches slightly.

“That looks like a nice trip,” I say.

“Yup,” she curtly responds without even looking up at me. I haven’t been this close to her all night. She smells like summer. Coconut? Delicious.

I peek over her shoulder, my torso almost touching her perfect ass. “To be honest, I didn’t take you for a gambling type of girl. But what do I know, right? You went ahead and kissed Hastings, so I must be wrong about you, Cupcake.”

“Yeah, maybe you don’t know me, Hot Shot. I thought that I should make it known to him that I am very interested in dating him.”

What the actual fuck? “Since when do you date hockey players? You’ve never dated hockey players.” What I want to say is: “I thought that was your #1 rule. I thought it was unbreakable.”

“Like we’ve already established, a girl can change. And you clearly don’t know me.”

“So it seems.” My jaw clenches out of frustration and annoyance. She looks so fucking hot and I want so bad for her to not be interested in Dean. Or to be Bradley’s younger sister. I just want her to be Brooke.

Just Brooke.

“Why Hastings?” I seethe.

“Why not Hastings? He’s hot and I am sick of playing it safe. It hasn’t gotten me anywhere so far. Might as well have fun with Dean.”

I fume as I register the words “hot” and “fun.” That combination creates a mental image that I immediately want to erase. Especially since it involves fucking Hastings. He is winning her over and I can’t let that happen.

I don’t care about what I would get out of the bet. I don’t care about the captain’s spot. Hastings can have it. He can have whatever he wants–except her.

After signing her name on the raffle sign up sheet, Brooke turns around and I get a view of her perfect body from this angle. It is dangerous, just like my feelings for her. She playfully bats her eyelashes as she looks up at me and says, “Well, I am going to find Dean. This dress is getting a little uncomfortable and I need some help taking it off.”

She smirks and starts to walk around me, but I discreetly and gently grab her arm.

She looks down at my hand and says, “Tristan, what the…?”

“The only way that dress is coming off your body is if I’m taking it off.”

Her mouth falls open and her eyes rake over me. “What did you just…?”

“Was I not clear the other night, Cupcake? You. Are. Mine.”