Page 29 of Breakaway Bet

It started out as a bet with him, but I already feel it going somewhere else. She knows nothing about hockey. It feels like the only women I take to bed anymore are fans, but those aren’t the ones you build a relationship with.

That’s someone you fuck and forget.

This girl, however…

She feels unforgettable.

I hate that she’s a Bradley, and I keep trying to tell myself that’s part of my motivation. End up married to her to fuck over that family the way they very nearly fucked my entire career over.

But the more we dance, the more we drink—the more we kiss—the more I feel like she’s a human being all on her own, separate from her family.

She has my attention. All of it. That’s all I know right now.

I can’t. I can’t let feelings get involved. I’m reminded of the way last season ended. We’re going on a Cup run this season, which means my entire focus needs to be on the ice, not on some girl stealing my attention.

I need to shake this off.

She heads to the restroom with her friend again after our drinks are empty, and West grimaces at me.

“What?” I demand.

“You’re all over her. Give a guy a chance.”

My hackles rise. “Bet’s off, man. Let’s just forget about it.”

West rolls his eyes without replying.

“Why don’t you go for the friend?” I suggest.

“The puck bunny? Nah, I’m good.”

I sigh, but on the one hand…I get it. It’s the same thoughts I just had about Ivy and how she’s not part of that life. On the other hand, I need West distracted so he doesn’t throw my night off track.

He narrows his eyes at me. “You like her?”

I shrug. West and I are good friends. Best friends, even. We give each other shit, but it’s because we care. Still, this isn’t really something I want to discuss on a rooftop before I take her home with me.

“Double or nothing,” he says.

My brows dip. “Double or nothing what?”

“You get her to marry you tonight, I’ll give you two hundred thousand dollars. If not, you wake up tomorrow single and you don’t owe me a dime,” he challenges.

Fuck. He knows I will do anything to win. That’s just who I am. I didn’t get to be one of the best centers in the league by letting opportunities slip past me.

He pulls out his phone and taps on it, and I feel my phone buzz a few seconds later. He just texted me the new terms.

“There. In writing,” he says.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Sellers.” I don’t bother pulling my phone out to look at it.

He nods and takes a lazy sip of his tequila. “Maybe. But will you wake up with two hundred K more in the bank tomorrow? Only time will tell.”

The ladies return, and West beelines for Ivy. I don’t like it. At all. I love the dude, but not for Ivy. Not for this bet. It’s all wrong.

Ivy’s laughing as she smacks West playfully in the arm. “I do not look like a bride,” she says as I catch up to them.

I shoot him a look.