Page 67 of The Romance Line

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Page 67 of The Romance Line

I scratch my jaw. “Do you know anyone who babysits?”

Miles furrows his brow. “Um, no. Is it for your nephew?”

I scoff, then point my thumb toward Asher, then Wesley. “No, it’s for these clowns.”

Miles waggles a brow, smiling, getting it now. “Speaking of clowns, I hear you’re going to join the circus when you’re done with hockey. Let me know where you wind up because I will heckle the fuck out of that.”

I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Why are you guys looking at my social media?”

“Everyone needs a good laugh now and then,” Wesley says as we head into the locker room.

Hugo’s here, tugging on his jersey. Christian, the captain, is lacing up his skates.

When Miles reaches his stall, he looks back at me, tilting his head. “Looks like you had fun at the naked ride. But why didn’t youdothe ride?” He asks it innocently, like he’s been educating himself at the Wesley and Asher School of Giving Me Hell. “Were you afraid of scaring everyone with your attire?”

I look to the ceiling in frustration, tossing up my hands. “Why are you all my teammates?”

“You’re just that lucky, man,” Hugo calls out.

“And don’t you forget it,” Christian chimes in.

“As if I could,” I say, then I grab my shoulder pads from the stall.

As I’m heading to practice ten minutes later withAsher, my gaze drifts up to the management levels. I picture Everly in her office.

A dirty grin returns to my face.

As we reach the gate at the ice, Asher points to me with abustedgrin on his face. “Yup. It’s working. You’ve been made over into…a new man, and I know why,” he says, his gaze drifting pointedly to the management levels before he takes off and flies down the ice away from me.

I try my best to flip him the bird, but it’s fuck-all hard with gloves on.

Still, I really need to get my game face on, especially since nothing can happen with Everly again.

It really, really can’t, no matter how much I’m thinking about her and the delivery coming her way today.

22

A THIEF AND A PIRATE

Everly

“He’s a panty thief!” Josie issues that declaration with a slap of the table at the diner.

I’m at lunch with my friends after the hottest night of my life. I’ve told them nearly everything. I only feel slightly bad for divulging all the details of our one-time-only tryst, but they’ve been sworn to vault-levels of secrecy. And honestly, I couldn’tnottell them.

“I never expected that. They were just…gonewhen I looked all over for them,” I say, a little thrilled all over again as I recall the discovery of his theft. “Like stolen treasure or something.”

Maeve arches a brow. “It kind of makes him…a sex pirate.”

I laugh. “Evidently.”

“Maxissort of swashbuckling,” Fable says thoughtfully, then asks, “and did he admit to taking them?”

“Yes,” I say, still incredulous over Max’s matter-of-fact reaction via text this morning. “He was unapologetic.”

Maeve stabs a forkful of salad but doesn’t bring it to her mouth. “The man wants what he wants. That’s impressive.”

“Is it though? I mean, what did he do with them?” I ask, then take a bite of my lunch.




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