19. Weston

By the time I get to the arena, I’m super late. Coach Hud shoots me the evil eye over his clipboard as I emerge from the locker room. “You’re late.”

“Had a burglary at the penthouse,” I explain.

He lifts a brow. “Your place? Shit. They get anything?”

“Coffee maker, some shoes, a puck. Signed stick for the charity auction. Some other shit.”

“Which puck?”

“First goal.”

He winces in sympathy and nods. “I’ll see if any of the security guys have a spare hour to go poke around at the pawn shops. They get lucky with that kind of thing every now and then.”

“Appreciate it.” But we both know that puck is long gone.

“Get out there and warm up. Don’t fucking be late again or you’re doing suicides until game time.”

By the time we’re done warming up and about to head to the locker room, Renee is in the tunnel to the locker room, camera in hand. My plan is to ignore her. My day has been shitty enough without going head to head with the little hellcat right now.

But the closer I get, the more I get that itchy tingle in my chest. Like an STD for the soul, I think to myself.

I let a couple guys pass me and then turn back to her. She has her camera to her face and she’s snapping pictures.

“Did you go into my apartment?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

“Did I—? No. There isn’t enough money in the world to tempt me into that den of iniquity.” She snorts. “Why? Did somebody take your porn collection out of alphabetical order?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m an OnlyFans guy. I see a lot less dick that way.”

“Well, maybe you could do us all a favor and tell your boyfriend that he should put his away before he walks out into the hall.” She pulls the camera down and the full force of her hotness smacks me in the face.

Like always, my reaction to her isn’t like it is to any other objectively attractive female. Those are a dime a dozen. But Renee… Something more than my dick stirs at the sight of her. Something deeper. Something more primal.

It pisses me the hell off.

“When you spend the night staring out the peephole trying to get a glimpse of me, you might see some things you didn’t count on.” I shrug. “Also, Hunter isn’t my boyfriend.”

She tosses her head like an angry stallion. “I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend or your husband or a one-night stand that won’t leave—I didn’t go into your place. I have no desire to go into your place. Quite frankly, if you want to find a different place, I’d be thrilled with that.”

“Why don’t you find a different place? You’re the squatter.”

“I’m not a squatter!” she hisses. “Sutton is my best friend.”

“Does she know you’re using her place as a rendezvous for all your dates?”

I really didn’t mean to go there, but now that I have, no way am I taking it back. Somewhere in between all the robbery shenanigans, I managed to forget about Orion showing up to take her out last night. But now that it’s top of mind once more, I’m just as enraged as I was when I first saw him show up at her door.

She wrinkles her brow and pinches her mouth into a tight pucker. It’s like she’s actively trying to look unattractive, but unfortunately for both of us, she’s failing. Miserably. “What I do in my friend’s apartment is none of your business.”

“It is when you’re with my team.”

“They’re your team on the ice. And, like we discussed last night, you don’t have any right to tell them to stay away from me.”

She punches her hands onto her hips and assumes a leg-spread battle stance. She’s ready to fight.

Bad news for her: so am I.

And I don’t lose.

“Home is home. Work is work. Those things ought to stay separate.”

“Orion coming to Sutton’s apartment doesn’t affect you or your work life.” She doesn’t add, Sofuck off, but it’s implied.

“It does, actually. And I’ll be sure none of my teammates cross that line again.”

“Because you think you’re the boss of them?”

I shrug. “Look, P: you can get as haughty as you want, but this is my team and that means I make the rules. You might as well pack your shit up, head back to whatever podunk town you came from, and forget all about L.A. and your mad crush on me.”

She scoffs, eyes lighting up. “Crush? On who? On you?! You think I have a crush on you?” She shakes her head. “My God, how do you fit through doorways with that oversized ego?”

“You’re the one who moved into my building, got a job with my team, and broke into my place.”

She doesn’t flinch. “I didn’t break into anywhere, asshole. And if your apartment was the last place on Earth where there was food and water and I’d been starving for a hundred years, I still wouldn’t break in. I wouldn’t walk in. I wouldn’t ask to be invited in. You’re an egotistical, know-it-all, control freak asshat. And I’m over this conversation. Please go away.”

I roll my eyes and grit my teeth at once. “Just stay the fuck away from me and mine, okay?”

“Ditto.” She moves closer and pokes her finger into my chest. “And make no mistake: who I date is my business. Not yours.”

I have more banter locked and loaded—hell, I could do this all night—but then Hud pokes his head out the locker room door.

“Hey, Romeo, we’re having a team meeting. Care to join us?”

I turn to look at him, and when I turn, back she’s gone. She got the last word after all.