Page 230 of Cross Check

“Do you feel like not being a perfect angel?”

“That depends.” I lean close. It’s subtle enough for people to think we’re having a casual conversation, but I hear the hitch in her breathing. I see her squeeze her thighs together. “What did you have in mind?”

“We could head to your room after the first round.” She crosses her legs, and I do my best not to stare at her black tights. “Or we could watch hockey all night.”

“M-my room,” I stammer. “Let’s do that.”

“Good answer.” Amelia gestures to the ice where the first player is starting his challenge. “Pay attention to the event, Grant. They say patience is a virtue.”

SEVENTY-ONE

GRANT

“Have some Body Armor.” Jaxson Delaney, the defender from Philadelphia, sits next to me in the locker room before our game on Saturday. He tosses a bottle my way, and I nod my appreciation. “You look dead on your feet. Is this your first rodeo?”

“I did the Skills event a couple years ago, but this is a different beast.” I twist the bottle cap and chug the contents. “Add in the interviews, and I’m surprised we even have time for hockey.”

The exhaustion is my fault.

I stayed in Amelia’s bed until almost two o’clock this morning. When I finally dragged my ass back to my room, I only had the chance to shut my eyes for three hours before my alarm went off. The headache I’m fighting is cruel but worth it, and I’m anxious to see her out in the stands tonight.

“It’s a lot of ass kissing,” Tommy chimes in. “Guys are trying to figure out what team they might want to play for down the road, and we rarely get the chance to hang out with each other in an environment that’s not competitive.”

“You need to work on your word choice,” Jaxson says. “Don’t forget Emmy Hartwell is in the league.”

“Fuck. Good point. What word should I use?” Tommy asks.

“Players is inclusive,” I suggest, and he hums. “I doubt Emmy will be the only woman to ever play in the big leagues.”

“There’s a goalie in the AHL I really like.” Jaxson grabs his skates and drops them on the floor. “Her name is Parker Harrington, and when she makes it to the NHL, I want you to remember I mentioned her first.”

“We’ll make sure you get all the credit.” I yawn and finish off the sports drink. “Thanks for the boost, Delaney.”

“The more All-Star weekends you do, the easier they get.”

“I bet. I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here, but I’m also getting texts from some of my boys who are in the Bahamas right now while I’m about to bust my ass going 3-on-3 for two ten-minute halves,” I say. “Can’t I have both things?”

“No, but you do get a cool jersey.” Tommy holds up the dark blue sweater they gave the eleven of us from the Metropolitan division to wear. “That’s a fun souvenir you can’t find in the Bahamas.”

“A great argument.” I grab my pads and start to put on my gear. “Who are we playing first?”

“The guys from the Central division, which means we have to deal with Brady fucking Williams.” Jaxson rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe the league lets that prick keep playing.”

“Hang on. My boy back in DC hates him too, but he’s never said why. What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

“More like what’s right with him. He’s entitled and thinks the world revolves around him. Because of that, he’s under the impression certain liberties—like women and endorsement deals—should be granted to him. He talks a lot of trash, and he makes it a game to get under your skin.” Tommy scowls. “If it were up to me, he’d be banned for life.”

“What I’m hearing is I shouldn’t feel bad about intentionally boarding his ass during the game? Got it.” I smirk. “I love putting assholes in their place.”

We’re the second game in the round robin tournament, and when it’s our turn to take the ice, I get loose by shooting on an empty net. I scan the crowd while I stretch out my groin, happy when I find a familiar face in the front row. I finish my warm up then skate over to Amelia with a smile.

“Hey,” I yell.

“Everett,” she answers.

She looks damn good in her black leather jacket, black tank top and tight-fitting jeans. Her diamond earrings and leather boots bring the whole outfit together, and I use my jersey to wipe the sweat from my forehead.

“I didn’t know your guy Thorne was on my team tonight. I like him,” I say.