Page 25 of Pucked Together

"So what do you want to do? Dance? Eat? Drink?"

I think about it for a moment. I scan the dance floor and see more of the players on the dance floor having a blast. Trevor isn't here, Thank God. Keelan is in the corner with the puck bunny that beckoned him.

I roll my eyes. "All of the above!"

"Then let's go," he says, jumping off the bar stool.

I down the rest of my beer and jump down to join him and the others.

Chapter 8

Ryker

Ihave one intention while driving to the bar. One.

Find Izzy.

Keelan stopped texting me back. And I need Izzy to get her spawn of the underworld before I do something about it.

Walking in, I'm recognized by a group of hockey fans who try to stop me and get selfies.

Once I get past the wall of superfans, I spot her. She's leaning against the bar. Her top is small and barely clinging to her. Her back is bare, and her jeans are tight-fitted and flared.

She has some gold armband and looks every bit the hippy she probably is. Her long dark hair swishes from side to side as she chats with the person behind the bar. He's a Thor-looking guy with a blonde man-bun.

They're laughing together, and it makes me even more mad. I make my way over to her, and the second I approach, she turns and meets me face to face.

"Oh, you're here," she says casually. She takes a sip of her drink, totally unbothered.

"I'd rather not be."

"What do you want, Goalie-zilla?"

"I want you to go get your damn dog."

She blinks slowly and sways a little as she finds the bar behind her to lean on.

"Why?"

I rub my face, realizing this was stupid. She's not in any condition to take care of herself, let alone her dog.

"How much have you had to drink?"

"What's it to you?" She glares and takes another sip, her tongue fumbling with the straw in her drink.

"Izzy, you need to drink water."

She puts a finger up. "Uh-uh, I'm not one of your teammates for you to be den mothering me around. I," she points to herself and slurs, "am a grown-ass woman. So you," she sticks her finger in my chest, “can leave."

I look around to see if I can find her brother. He's nowhere in sight. And most of the guys are dancing and looking too drunk to notice what's happening.

"Ok, look. I can't just leave you here."

"Why not, Goalie-zilla? Are you my brother's keeper?"

"What?"

"Am I your brother's keeper?" She slurs like she's making perfect sense.