“Okay, let’s qualify that. You don’t have any friends that aren’t in this room.” He gestured around the huge square that was our locker room.
Even Lukas was here, so I guess he was pretty right. I had a few friends in Montana, but I’d mostly dedicated myself to the ice, which didn’t leave a lot of time for relationships, period. Friendships or otherwise.
Not that I’d met a woman who had ever been willing to deal with my insane training schedule. Now that we spent so much time on the road? Forget it.
Except Pepper will be on the road with you.
I banished that thought right out of my head. Pepper wasn’t an option for anything more than a working friendship. I just had to think of her the same way I saw Connor.
Except Connor didn’t have curves like that. Thank God.
Or crystal blue eyes that lit up like a Christmas tree at comic book movies. I had more fun watching her watch Iron Man than actually seeing the flick. Not that it was half bad. That Tony Stark guy was a badass.
“And that rack—”
Crosby’s voice carried down the bench as I finished tying my skates.
“I mean, just the one is a fucking ten, but two? Twins? That’s got to make them both elevens. Where the hell has Coach been hiding them?”
Every muscle in my body locked down tight.
“Shut the fuck up, Crosby,” I snapped.
“What? You pissed that I already had one crawling up on me?” He shot back before pulling on his chest protector.
Good, he’d withstand the ass-kicking I was about to hand him.
“Not worth it,” Connor said, his hand slamming against my chest as I stood.
“If someone talked about Faith that way,” I muttered, knowing damn-well I wasn’t pissed on behalf of my baby sister. It was all Pepper.
Funny, gorgeous, smart, utterly refreshing Pepper.
“Yeah, well, we’ll just make sure to keep Faith out of Shark’s reach, okay?” Connor patted my chest like I was a dog that needed soothing.
“And Jessica?”
Connor’s eyes darkened and he turned back to this locker, grabbing his shin pads. “The locker room would be the safest place my sister has hung out in years. God knows what drug-addict loser she’s shacked up with right now.”
Damn. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Connor was the most put together member of his rather fucked-up family.
“So what do you say, Gentry?” Crosby called down. “Want to make a bet?”
“On?” I answered, reaching for my leg pads.
“I’ve got fifty bucks that says I fuck one of the sisters first. Or a hundred that I nail them both.” The smirk sealed his fate.
I was off the bench in less than a heartbeat.
Crosby’s eyes widened, then disappeared as Gage stepped in front of me. The hand he placed on my chest wasn’t what stopped me; it was Lukas and Connor on either side of me, both with a lock on my arms.
“Whoa,” Connor said softly.
“I’m not a fucking horse,” I replied.
“I’ve got this,” Gage said, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “Sit on your million-dollars-a-year hands.” Then he turned back toward Crosby. “You say one more word about either of those girls and I will fucking end you. Understand?”
“What’s going on in here?” Coach asked from behind us.
Lukas and Connor immediately released my arms.
“Nothing I can’t handle, Coach,” Gage answered. “Just setting the boundaries when it comes to the opposite sex.”
“Speaking of that, everyone take a seat,” Coach ordered.
Once we’d all done so, he moved to the center of the locker room, where he could see us all.
I shot Crosby a glare for good measure. Gage wouldn’t have to end him, because he’d already be dead if he said that shit again.
“Now, I hate to bring this up again, but you’re all aware that we have a no-fraternization policy.” He leveled us all with a stare colder than the ice. “In the past, you’re aware that I’ve allowed an exception to the policy.” He nodded his head toward Bentley, who was currently engaged to our trainer. “However, there will be no more given, and this more than extends to my daughters. I hate to sound like a shotgun-toting father, but anyone who crosses the line won’t just be benched—you’ll be in breach of contract and no longer a Shark. Keep your hands off my daughters. Understood?”
A rumble of acknowledgment rolled through the locker room.
“Why are you looking at me, Coach?” Rory Jackson asked from across the locker room. “I’m a happily married man.”
“Yes, and you’ll notice I kept my girls out of Seattle until you were.”
Rory laughed, breaking the tension in the room.
“See you on the ice,” Coach said and left us to finish dressing.
Hopefully, that warning was enough to keep Crosby’s dick in his pants.
Hell, hopefully it was enough to warn me off, too.
The minute I saw Pepper watching from the other side of the glass, tablet in hand, I knew I was in serious trouble. I narrowed my focus to the ice, concentrating on drills, pucks, and the fluid motion of my body, pushing myself to exhaustion.
But every time I grabbed my water bottle from the top of the net to hydrate, I looked for her, found myself grinning at her shy smile and wave when she looked up from her tablet.
For the first time since I’d stepped on the ice at the age of two, I couldn’t block it all out—couldn’t give the practice one-hundred percent focus.
Pepper never left my fucking thoughts.
Two hours later, I skated off the ice, sweat-soaked, but buzzing from a good session. There was something satisfying about the ache of well-used muscles.
“Nice going, out there,” Pepper said, grinning up at me. Fuck me, she was tiny usually, but with my skates on she barely hit my rib cage.
“Thanks. It was a good practice.” I ripped off my helmet and held it under one arm, squirting some of the water from my bottle onto my head and letting the cool liquid steal some of the stifling heat.
She blinked a few times, her gaze darting over my features with a bemused expression.
“Pepper?”
With a jolt, she laughed, the sound awkward and charming as hell. “Right. Sorry, got distracted by you know…” she waved her hand in my general direction. “Not that I date hockey players, because I don’t. Or that I’d date you. Or you’d even want to date me. So anyway…” she looked to the side and sighed, then waved. “Hey, Mason, what are you doing here?”
The guy from the party—Pepper’s high school ex—smiled warmly and pulled her in for a hug.
The primal, chauvinistic, cave-man instinct I’d always thought had skipped me suddenly flared to life, every nerve in my body screaming to rip him off of her.
So you can what? Throw her over your shoulder pads and walk away?
At least my logical side still functioned.
Until Mason cupped her cheek and gave her what had to be the sappiest half-smile ever. “Man, it’s so nice to have you home. I’d almost forgotten how awesome you make me feel by just being around.”
Fuck that, carry her out.
And logic apparently had fled the building.
She stepped back, out of his reach, and closer to me. Take that, asshole.
“Mason, have you met Eric Gentry? He’s the Shark’s starting goalie.”
I fought every instinct to pull her against me, and instead removed my blocker, setting it inside my helmet.
“Nice to me
et you.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “Yeah, you too. You have some great numbers.”
“Thanks. I have some really great coaches.”
“And a great analyst, too!” Pepper added in.
“That remains to be seen,” I teased.
“I’ve got you pegged already,” she said, a smirk playing across her pink lips.
“Do you?”
“Yep. You’re strong in the glove, great with the stick, and your ratio of rebound goals is killer and getting better. My guess is, given the way your butterfly is looking, you’re recovered from that knee injury?”
My jaw dropped. “I didn’t tell anyone I had a knee injury.”
“Didn’t have to. Stats don’t lie. You favored that side for the beginning of the season.” Those blue eyes of hers called me out.
Fuck me. Beautiful, funny, smart as hell, a body curved for sin, and completely. Fucking. Untouchable.
“So, I was looking for your dad,” Mason interrupted. “He said something about coming up to practice with you guys.” He gave me a fake-humble shrug. “I play a little, too.”
“A little, ha!” Pepper laughed. “He was drafted right out of high school. My dad begged him to go to college first, but he went straight into the NHL.”
My forehead puckered. “Mason…” I led, looking for a last name.
“Hall,” he supplied with a cocky grin. “I only played two years with the Ducks. Turns out I did need some time maturing my game.”
“Hall. As in Bobby Hall.”
“That’s my dad.”
This kid wasn’t just some minor league player trying to use Pepper to step up into the NHL again, he was hockey royalty.
“Nice. He’s one of the greats.”
“So he likes reminding me,” Mason forced a laugh. “Your dad?” he asked Pepper again as I heard the familiar ring of my cell phone from the bag I’d left in the hallway.
It was my mother’s ringtone.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said to them both, going for my cell.
“Oh, he just came off the ice. You might try his office,” Pepper said as I swiped my phone open. “Hello,” I growled a little harshly, seeing Mason run his hand down Pepper’s arm.
“Eric?”
“Mom, yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. Everything okay?”