Ian let out a string of mumbled curses before saying clearly, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lucy turned to face him, her hands on her hips and her attitude just daring him to try it. “I’m not, and if any of you think of bucking the system here, it will not end well for you. You might rule on the ice, but I can scare the shit out of Godzilla without even breaking a sweat. You do not want to fuck with me.” She gave Shelby, Ian, and Alex the stink eye and then jerked her head toward the SUV. “Now, everyone get in and I’ll explain everything on the ride back to Harbor City.”
…
The next two hours were already going to be absolute hell, but to add into it even the idea of getting all brotherly with Christensen—even if it was only for PR purposes—had Ian’s gut churning. At least that made him forget the fact that he was sitting next to Shelby in an enclosed space.
Not that he was paying attention to that.
Or the way her black jeans clung to her long legs.
Or the way her cheeks got a little pink every time she looked at him, as if she couldn’t stop thinking about last night, either.
Or the—
Fucking A, pull it together, man. She’s not interested. Stop being such a rejection junkie.
“So here’s how this is going to work,” Lucy said as soon as they hit the interstate and a straight shot back to Harbor City. “Due to a freak glitch in the schedule, the Ice Knights have an extra-long road trip starting tomorrow.”
“I thought I wasn’t going on that because of this.” He held up his busted thumb, which meant he still had about a week of off-ice time left.
“You can finish healing up on the road.” Lucy shrugged. “Plans change.”
That static-electricity shock of oh-shit-he-was-not-going-to-like-this sizzled up the back of his neck. “So what’s the new one?”
The smile on Lucy’s face in response to his question would have scared the meanest goon in the league; it sure as hell had him prepping for a body blow.
“You two are going to room together on the road and you’ll go to dinner together.” Lucy turned her gaze on Shelby. “And our own intrepid correspondent from The Biscuit will be with you every step of the way to document and share with fans on the Ice Knights’ social media hub.”
It was an illegal hit to the head, and it stunned him into silence so solid that he would have sworn all his automatic bodily functions—his heartbeat, the ability to breathe, the little zaps of information from his brain that told his body how to work—stopped doing what they were supposed to and said, To hell with it.
“Fuck no,” he and Christensen said at the same time.
“Oh look, you two are agreeing with each other already.” Lucy clapped in sarcastic glee. “I’m overwhelmed by the power of this moment.”
Everyone in the SUV fell silent after that. Ian’s gaze met Christensen’s in the rearview mirror and held for a moment before the other man looked away. Yeah, this was not going to work. Ever.
“How much coverage are you wanting?” Shelby asked, her quiet voice sounding resigned.
“Three to five posts a day,” Lucy said. “This is going to be the bromance that takes the hockey world by storm, and we will control every moment of it.”
Christensen scoffed. “People are going to see right through it.”
“Then you two had better make it realer than real,” Lucy responded.
“Oh, come on,” Ian said, unable to stop the bitter words from coming out. “You’ve been faking it for years; you should be a pro at it, Christensen.”
The other man’s grip on the steering wheel went white-knuckled. “I wasn’t lying about a damn thing, Petrov.”
Yeah, like he would ever believe that. “Whatever lies you have to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.”
“Boys,” Lucy cut in. “Stop glaring at me, Ian. I’m impervious, and it’s just going to give you a headache. Don’t smirk, Alex. You get in a wreck because of your speeding, and my husband will be the first firefighter here with the jaws of life to get you out just so he can beat you to a pulp. Understood?”
The SUV slowed perceptibly.
Ian couldn’t blame Christensen for that. Lucy’s husband, Frankie Hartigan, was the size of a small redwood tree with hands as big as baseball gloves. Hockey players never backed away from brawling, but taking on Hartigan wouldn’t be a fight, it would be suicide—especially when it came to even maybe sorta having hurt Lucy. The man did not fuck around when it came to the woman he loved.
“All right, now that we’re on the same page, I look forward to reading all the wonderful coverage on The Biscuit,” Lucy said, her tone leaving no doubt that she didn’t give a single solitary fuck if they agreed with her or not. This wasn’t a her-way-or-the-highway. There was only Lucy’s way. “Until then, I’m going to nap. The baby woke us up five times last night. If that kid ever learns to sleep through the night, I will never complain about anything ever again. Now, don’t kill each other while I sleep. This shirt is one of the few I have without baby spit-up stains on it, and I don’t want any blood splatter to ruin it.”
There were rumors that Lucy had a softer side—and he’d even seen it at her wedding when she was around her friends and family—but outside of that one time, he’d never witnessed it again. She was always in his top five scariest people he’d ever met in real life, and he played on the same line as Zach Blackburn, formerly the most hated man in Harbor City. Translation, Lucy was a take-no-shit badass.
Kind of like the other woman in the SUV.
He glanced over at Shelby. Her eyes were closed and
