Misadventures with a Rookie Read online

But as much as his ego infuriated me, and as obnoxious as he sounded joking with his teammates, I pictured his moss-green eyes and thick, gorgeous lashes. His rich brown hair was usually stuffed under a helmet, but when he wasn’t on the ice, the long layers fell over his eyes. If his full lips and chiseled jaw weren’t distracting enough, he had one of the finest bodies I had ever seen. I seriously hated how ripped he was. His sex appeal made me stupid, made me want to touch him. That was not going to happen. I knew damn well I needed to keep my distance from Gus Persson.

  He was the kind of trouble I had been through, and I wouldn’t go through again.

  I couldn’t.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t be here long. Not with how much he is killing it. He’ll be called up to the Tornadoes in no time,” Lizzy said.

  Something else moved in my chest—a different feeling than the sharp pang I felt earlier—but I ignored it and tried to suppress the emotion that threatened to shake my voice. “Good,” I sputtered. “I hope he goes. We’ll get a break from cleaning up hats.”

  Lizzy was right. Persson scored hat tricks left and right, which was unheard of for a defenseman. But then again, Persson wasn’t your typical defenseman. He could just as easily play forward, but he really dominated on defense. He was a force to be reckoned with. I never understood how he’d gone third in the draft. My dad and I had discussed it for hours. It was insane for a player of his ability to go so late, but he did. The Suns were benefiting from his dominating skill, and eventually the Twin Cities Tornadoes would get the ultimate prize.

  Not just Gus Persson…

  The Cup.

  Maybe?

  Men who dominated games and cut down all competition around them used to turn me on. Not anymore. I’d already had a guy like that—someone out to show the world how great he was. Just as the thought crossed my mind, I spotted Gus trying to high-five players on the other team, completely proving my point.

  He was just…ugh…obnoxious.

  Not the kind of guy I wanted anywhere near me.

  Nor had time for.

  Even if he was sinfully hot.

  And sexy.

  And talented.

  Glaring at him, I shook my head.

  Jackass.

  Chapter Three

  Gus

  After every win, the team went to the local sports bar, the Penalty Box. They had the hottest wings and even hotter waitresses. Plus, the owner, Tommy, was a season ticket holder and took good care of the team. After dominating the game, I was ready for some booze, food, and company.

  The Penalty Box had all of that.

  In abundance.

  Walking in behind the guys, I slid my hands along the black tee that hugged my shoulders and chest. I loved this shirt. It was my “getting some puss” shirt. It showed every detail of my chest and then some. Paired with my favorite shorts, there was no chance I’d go home alone tonight.

  Not with the ass I had.

  I sat down toward the back, near the pool tables and the second bar, and reached for a menu. Max grabbed a seat across from me.

  “Why are you looking at that?” He shook his head. “You get the same damn thing every time.”

  “I do not!”

  “You do,” he spat back.

  I was starting to realize why everyone called us an old married couple. Max was always up my ass, telling me what to do. Yeah, he was older and more experienced, but he wasn’t my daddy.

  “You’re not my dad!”

  “Okay, son, relax,” he teased.

  I glared at him.

  “I’m sorry I teased you. Please, look at the menu. Try something else.”

  I made a face at him as the waitress came to the table. He ordered his regular: wings and a pitcher of beer.

  I looked over the menu, scrunching my face up. “Can I get the fish tacos, a grilled cheese with bacon and tomato, and a side of cheese fries? Along with a mug to go with his pitcher?”

  Max stared at me as Julie, our regular waitress, just smiled. “So the regular, Bus?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” I mumbled.

  Max laughed while Julie walked away. “I don’t know why you fight with me.”

  “Because you’re wrong. All the time.”

  He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, I’m ready to kick your ass at pool.”

  “In your dreams,” I called back. “You couldn’t beat me if I played with no hands.”

  “I can, and I will.”

  “Bring it,” I said, swirling chalk at the end of a pool cue. I wasn’t one to brag—okay, maybe I was—but there wasn’t anything I was bad at. Oh wait, I sucked at knitting. Yeah, I was horrible, and my aunt would tell anyone that. But at everything else, I was awesome.

  I looked around the bar, taking in all the females. Most of them I knew and had already slept with. The ones I didn’t know, I just wasn’t feeling. Probably because I was still thinking about that sexy redheaded ice girl. She was driving me wild. The way she looked at me, like I stole her doll and drew dicks on its mouth, revved my engines. I wanted to kiss the scowl between her eyes, squeeze that naughty ass of hers, and bury my cock deep inside her. And her tits? Man, fucking those would be heaven. It had been a long time since I yearned for a woman, probably because they usually threw themselves at me.

  I was pretty sure the only thing redhead wanted to throw at me was a puck.

  “Hey, Bus.”

  It took me a moment to place the voice and the face, but then I remembered her. She was an ice girl, and I had slept with her the first time we met. Shannon? Shanna? Sharron?

  “Hey…you,” I finally said with a wave. “How you doing?”

  “Good. Better if you’d let me take a ride.”

  Anyone else might have questioned what ride she wanted to take, but I knew good and well. Especially when she opened her legs a bit, her eyes full and lusty as she trailed her fingers up her thighs. Wiggling my finger at her, I called, “Oh now, you know better than that. I don’t stick my dick in the honeypot more than once.”

  She feigned a pout, her lips coming out in a very sexy way. But I had been there, done that, and had the T-shirt. Plus, it wasn’t that great.

  “Don’t you wanna make an exception?” She leaned into her arms, her breasts coming together in a way that almost had me reconsidering. Almost.

  “Nope, sweetheart, can’t do it. But my boy Maxy can.”

  Max glared over at me. “I’m getting married.”

  “Small technicality,” I said, waving him off. “Plus, she isn’t even here.”

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t love her and respect her.”

  I rolled my eyes. Max was engaged to this girl from back home in Iowa. She was legit a milkmaid, and man, he loved her. She was nice, I guess, but there was no way I would ever be tied down to one girl. That was pathetic. “Whatever. Your loss. Or hers,” I said, pointing to Shanna, or whatever her name was.

  “Not everyone likes to fuck around like you.”

  “Why not?” I asked. I stood and struck the cue ball into the racked balls, scattering them around the table. “It’s the best of both worlds. Lots of ass and no commitments.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “I love being committed to one ass.”

  “Must be a great ass,” I teased.

  He glared. “You just wait. Your one great ass will come, and then our Gussy Bussy will be tied down forever.”

  I scoffed at that, pointing my pool stick at him. “The day that happens is the day I don’t score.”

  “I am seriously praying for that day.” Maxy stood and took a shot, getting a ball in before looking back up at me. “I’m so tired of having to wait to go to bed.”

  “Huh?”

  “You and the female friends you bring back to the apartment.”

  I made a face. “No one said you can’t go to bed when I have someone over.”

  He shot me a deadpan look. “No one could sleep when the whole apartment is being filled with ‘Oh, harder, Bus, harder. Ugh, ugh, oh, oh, Bus