She also happens to hate me.
“Her name is Scout,” I tell him, turning back around.
“You know her, then?”
I shrug. “Sort of. She’s, uh, not a big fan of mine.”
“What’d you do?”
“Why do you assume it was something I did?”
“Because I once watched you hit on a mom and her daughter. You’re not exactly smooth with the ladies.”
Fuck. I did do that.
I drag my hand back to my neck, squeezing it again because more tension is building. I’ll have to see about stopping by the team’s masseuse if this shit keeps up. I need to be loose on the ice, not all keyed up like this.
I groan. “I sort of…introduced myself to her.”
His brows slam together. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Since I come here pretty much weekly and should have known who she was, yes.”
Even Greer winces at that, and he should. It was embarrassing as hell.
In all fairness, I’m used to seeing her from the tits up with her brown hair tossed into a bun and an apron on. I didn’t expect to see her at my former teammate’s party wearing a dress that hugged all her curves with curled hair and the sexiest fucking smoky eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Yeah, okay. Maybe not her.” His eyes slide back toward the truck. “Or…” He draws the word out. “Maybe yes her, because she’s definitely looking this way right now.”
I’m almost sure he’s screwing with me, so I glance over my shoulder to check. Before I can get a good look, Greer smacks me in the back of the head.
“Don’t look, you idiot. It’ll make it obvious that we’re talking about her.”
“Ouch.” I rub the spot he hit. “Fine, I won’t look.”
“I won’t lie, you are missing out.”
I go to sneak a glance, and he hits me again.
“Stop hitting me, asshole.”
“Well, stop looking. Breaking your neck to get a glimpse makes you look more desperate than you already are.”
“Fuck you. I’m not desperate.”
“You wouldn’t be coming to me for help if that wasn’t the case.”
“But I’m not coming to you for help. You’ve just inserted yourself into this.”
“Because this can’t go on any longer. You’re a fucking pro hockey player and a damn good one at that—you should be swimming in pussy.”
“Like you are with your ass-play girlfriend?”
“First of all, she’s not my girlfriend.” He wrinkles his nose like the thought is disgusting to him. “I don’t do girlfriends. I’m not really the relationship type. Tried it, wasn’t for me.”
“I’ve never had a girlfriend.”
There I go confessing more shit to him like he’s my fucking therapist or something.
“Seriously? You’re a virgin and you’ve never even had a girlfriend before?”
I shake my head, hoping like hell he doesn’t see the heat that’s definitely filling my cheeks right now because this shit is embarrassing to talk about. “No. I, uh, spent a lot of time playing hockey.”
What I don’t tell him is I tried to date in high school, but as soon as my dad found out, he nixed that completely. Girls were distractions, and I wasn’t allowed to be distracted. I had to keep my eye on the prize: the NHL.
I got drafted right after high school and wasn’t in college long enough to get wild. By then, dating and girls and everything else felt like too much pressure, and with having to prove to the Comets that I was call-up worthy, I was already under enough. I’ve certainly made up for it over the last few years, but it’s not like I’m out with a different woman every night the way he seems to be.
“So did I, but I still made time for pussy. Tell me you’ve at least had your dick sucked.”
“Why? You offering if not?” He glowers at me, and I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve had my dick sucked.”
“Well, at least you’ve experienced that. Was it any good?”
I mean, I came, but would I say good… Eh.
Apparently, I don’t have to tell him that; my face must say it all.
He chucks his third donut, which is only half eaten, back into the box. “You’re depressing me and ruining my donuts.” He glances over my shoulder. “But not as much as she’s depressing me.”
I risk the smack to my head and look this time. The heated stare Scout is sending my way makes me scared she’s about to pull a knife from behind her back and chase me out of the parking lot with it.
I shift around on the bench because, sadly, a tiny part of me finds that particular scenario really hot.
Shit. Maybe I am more desperate to get laid than I thought.
Scout is in her usual attire: an apron over a pair of overalls with her hair piled high on top of her head in the same messy look. Her usually pouty lips are rolled together, and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her ample chest. She looks just as annoyed as she was at the party.
And even more so when she realizes I’m now staring at her.
I lift my hand in a small wave, and the frown she’s sporting deepens. It takes half a second for her to turn her back on me, busying herself with something in the truck. It’s clear to anyone else watching that she’s not actually working on anything and is just ignoring me.
Guess I deserve the cold shoulder.
“Wow.” Greer whistles. “You weren’t kidding. She does hate you. It looks like you might be screwed when it comes to her, and not in the way you’re hoping to be. It’s too bad, too. She’s hot, maybe a little nerdy for me, but the nerdy girls are always up for some kinky shit.” He bounces his brows up and down, grinning. “I bet she’d forgive you if you played the famous hockey player card.”
His words grate on every damn nerve I have because I swear he sounds just like my father right now.
I’ve been the hockey player my entire life. It’s all my parents ever cared about since they realized I wasn’t so bad at the game. Having me go pro became their life, so it became my life. So much so that I gave up everything—and I do mean everything—for it, and none of it was for the right reasons.
I’m not telling Greer any of that shit, though. I’ve already said entirely too much.
“I’m more than a hockey player.” The words come out much harsher than I intended.
He doesn’t miss it either, his eyes widening at my sudden outburst.
He lifts his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say you weren’t. I’m just saying it’s not a bad card to use. Works like a fucking charm for me.” He licks remnants of his donut—Fruit & Pebbles this time—off his fingers. “Shit, maybe I should hit her up because damn these donuts are good.”
My stomach sours at the thought of Greer and Scout together. I don’t have any business having any sort of opinion about it, but still, I don’t like it for some reason. Maybe because Scout’s always seemed nice, and Greer is a bit of a tool on a good day. Plus, it’s clear all he wants women for is one thing, and Scout doesn’t deserve that.
“You shouldn’t want people just for what they’re good at.”