Power Play (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Book 2) Read online

“Are you still a virgin?” Or maybe she will.

  I swallow hard as I look into her green eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and slowly shrug my shoulders.

  She drops her head to the side. “How? I mean, you’re so beautiful, and you’ve got a banging—”

  “I don’t need you to talk me up. What you and I think is totally different from what a man thinks. It’s fine. I’m not the least bit worried about it.”

  “Well, that’s a complete lie,” she announces, calling me on my shit. “You are worried about it. It bothers you. It always has. And the thing is, Posey, it’s not you. You chose such shitty dudes.”

  “And I have an incredibly stunning sister,” I say, waving my hand. “So, it’s hard on them.”

  “That’s absolute bullshit, which goes back to my shitty-dude theory. The right guy will want only you.”

  “Please, that person doesn’t exist.”

  “I’d choose you,” she says simply, and my heart warms.

  “That would really stun our parents.”

  Her face lights up as she covers my hand with hers. “You tell everyone else to have confidence and to believe in themselves, when really, you’re the one who needs that advice.”

  I look down at our hands. I know she’s right. “Maybe, but my track record says different. Plus, now my virginity is annoying. Like, I wish I would have just banged Maxim and gotten it over with.”

  She nods. “But again, shitty dude.”

  I shrug. “I guess. I don’t know. Guys just don’t see me like I want them to,” I say, but then I pause. “Except there was a guy earlier. He plays for the Assassins. Boon Hoenes?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “I hate hockey and hockey players. Keep going.”

  I laugh. “He came at me, saying I don’t like him. And it almost felt like he cared if I liked him as a person. Which makes absolutely no sense because he has a fiancée.”

  “But you felt he cared?”

  “Yeah. It was weird.”

  “You are usually pretty accurate with your gut.”

  “If that’s so, then that would mean he’s a cheating bastard like Sir Taco.”

  She snorts. “This is true. Bring up his profile.” I open it on Instagram, and she analyzes it. “Posey, he’s single.”

  “Huh?”

  She points to his bio. “It has the unlocked padlock. He’s single.”

  Why does that please me? “Oh, wow.”

  “Yeah, you should have flirted with him. Played with his stick,” she says, waggling her brows at me.

  I shrug. “I guess I could have flirted with him. That maybe he would have reciprocated the flirt. But why would I? It would be pointless. I wanted to, even if I was giving him a hard time.”

  I smile to myself, and she squeezes my hand. “Why would it have been pointless?”

  I meet her gaze. “Because his ex was stellar. Perfect, even. Like you.”

  She snorts. “Hardly perfect, but thanks. You know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “I think you’re so used to just assuming guys don’t want you, that now that’s your defense. Why put yourself out there when he wouldn’t want you anyway? It’s actually a good defense. Stupid, but good.”

  I eye her, hating how well she knows me. “Your logic is terrifying.”

  “I’m right.”

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “So, maybe next time, flirt.”

  I dissolve in a fit of giggles.

  Ally’s face lights up as she watches me. “Yes, do that. Just be you. You’re so incredible, Posey. Really.”

  My laughter subsides, and I gaze at my cousin. She’s just like Shelli in that no guy has ever turned either of them down. I believe I’m just as pretty as them, but then, why have I not had any luck? Why am I a twenty-one-year-old virgin? I guess it’s better than a forty-year-old one, but still, a little pathetic. I would have had sex with Maxim. I was ready, I wanted to, but that would involve him wanting to have sex with me.

  Just a minor problem.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Do you think Boon is hot?”

  I curve my lips. “So fucking hot.”

  She grins. “Then, what’s the problem?”

  “It just wouldn’t be appropriate for me to flirt with a player when I’m tiptoeing the line as a bitch to him. I mean, I ride him hard on the ice—”

  “And you can ride him hard off the ice.”

  “Allison!” I shriek, and she grins. “I don’t know. I know there is no handbook. But it would be so incredibly embarrassing if I put myself out there, he shoots me down, and I have to face him the next day. It wouldn’t go well.”

  She nods. “Or you put yourself out there, he fucks your brains out, and the next day, his hockey is bomb dot com, and you both win.”

  I snort before shaking my head. She reaches for my phone, looking at his Instagram. “He’s big.”

  “I know,” I say on a sigh. “So big.”

  “And that’s a gnarly scar on his face.”

  “I know,” I say with a small smile. Boon is looking at the camera with Mickey ears on. He went to Disney with some of the guys this summer, and he looks like a total dork. A hot dork, but a dork nonetheless. In the photo, his face isn’t covered in hair the way it is now, so his scar is more noticeable. “I’ve always wondered how he got it.”

  She looks over at me, a spark in her eye. “Ask him.”

  I chuckle lightly, and I hate the nerves coursing through my body. “Why?”

  “It would be a nice opening. When he tells you, you can ask ‘Do you have any other scars that I can’t see?’”

  I just look at her. “That’s such a line from porn.”

  She laughs hard. “It works! Guys love that kind of stuff. Just say what you want. Don’t think.”

  I could never do that. I analyze everything that comes into my head. I laugh along with her.

  “For real, though, ask him about his scar. It shows you’re interested, that you care, and that you wouldn’t mind seeing his cock.”

  I whip my head to her, my eyes widening.

  “Really, it’s a nice opening.”

  “You’re insane.”

  As she dissolves into laughter beside me, as much as I want to do what she says, I know I won’t.

  I couldn’t.

  Too many factors are in play—my insecurities, being his coach, and the total hilarity of the situation. Shit, but Ally makes me want to, in the hope of the porn scenario. I cover my face with my hands.

  Why is being a woman so hard?

  Chapter Eight

  Posey

  I lean on my stick and close my eyes. I try to hold in my groan of annoyance, but it is hard, and soon, I’m unable to stop myself. We’ve been at this for an hour. A whole hour. And for some reason, my boys can’t seem to execute my play. The same play we’ve been working on for the last week and a half. We haven’t scored on the power play since that first night. Yes, we’ve only had two chances—everyone’s been playing a pretty clean game—but I need a goal. I’m starting to think I suck at coaching.

  “I said skate to the middle, guys,” I say as calmly as I can. “Mac, you’re to wait for the pass before you enter. You’re going offside every time. Slow down and wait for the puck.”

  Wesley nods as he sucks in a deep breath. I skate toward Aiden and pull the puck to me with my blade. He watches me, also sucking in air. I skate behind him with the puck on my blade. I move it back and forth as I speak. “When you come in, you carry it just a wee bit over the line before you send it to Hoenes. You’re passing right at the line, but I need Mac and Hoenes to enter first before the pass. Then Hoenes passes it to Bacioretty, and then he sets up the play.” I demonstrate it with my uncle, him standing in for Hoenes, and it goes off without a hitch. Just how I want it. I point my stick at Aiden. “You’re being too aggressive. I don’t want that until you’re in the zone. Then get aggressive. I need finesse and precision for this part.”