Page 81 of Offside Rules

Wolf

I’m about to put my phone away when Baylor sends me a picture of herself in my jersey.

Ellie is beside her, holding up two fingers behind Baylor’s head. They’re somewhere on the concourse, and Baylor has her hair down instead of piled on top of her head with a pencil or whatever she uses to keep it there. The jersey hangs past her hips. She sends a second picture over her shoulder so I can see my last name across her back.

Baylor: Don’t get used to this.

Too fucking late.

I’ve been looking forward to tonight since Sunday, when she walked into my kitchen wearing her brother’s sweatshirt and tried to convince me that having no clean laundry should excuse her from the rules. Meanwhile, I’ve paid four hundred and eighty dollars for crimes that include getting a spatula from my own drawer. She can spend one evening in my jersey, and I plan to enjoy every minute of it since I doubt she’ll ever let it happen again.

Getting her to stay afterward took a separate bet, but I’m fairly confident I can manage sixty minutes without getting sent to the box. I’ve done it before. Probably more recently than she’d give me credit for.

Me: It’s happening tonight, Cupcake. You, me, and a bowl of popcorn. I’ll be looking for you in my seats.

Her answer comes while I’m reaching for my helmet.

Baylor: You haven’t even warmed up yet. Try not to get a penalty before the game starts. Getting ejected early would be embarrassing.

Me: Never had a problem with premature ejection, Cupcake.

Baylor: Good to hear… for no specific reason.

I grin, then put my phone away before I waste the rest of warmups arguing with her.

Hunter looks over from the next stall. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing." I shove my phone into my bag.

"Tell Baylor I said hi." He picks up his helmet and gets to his feet. "Come on. You can flirt after warmups."

I follow him toward the tunnel. Kendall checked my shoulder earlier, Theo helped with the tape, and I’ve done the exercises they keep reminding me about. I’m cleared to play, and I’ll have ice on it immediately afterward. Which means no Oakley’s after the game for me.

I don’t mind tonight, because as long as I keep my ass out of the penalty box, I have a date with Baylor in my bed. Never thought I’d get this excited about watching reality TV with a woman who specifically ruled out sex, but here we are.

For now, I need to win a game and prove Baylor wrong. Preferably in that order.

Their winger puts his stick into JP’s glove after the whistle, and I’m halfway toward him before I remember I have plans tonight that don’t involve finding somewhere else to sleep.

I get between them, backing him away from the crease while JP gets to his feet behind me.

"Puck’s covered."

"Didn’t see it."

"Try opening your fucking eyes."

He shoves me. I keep my gloves down, although I’d like to put one through his face. The official comes over and tells us both to move, so I skate toward the faceoff circle before the winger can give me another reason to reconsider.

Hunter is staring at me.

"What?"

"You sick?"

"No."

"You sure? That asshole is still upright."