Puck Shy (BROTHER PUCKERS #2) by Kayla Grosse EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Kayla Grosse
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Lucas
“YOU NEED TO GET laid.”
I give one of my defensemen, Johnny, a side-eye. “Are you trying to tell
me I shit the bed?”
He throws his travel bag over one of his broad shoulders before smacking
me on the back so hard my body vibrates. “That’s putting it lightly.”
I check him with my shoulder hard enough that his five foot eleven frame
stumbles a bit. He laughs, the throaty sound pissing me off further.
“That’s not very captain-like behavior,” he teases.
I check him again before pushing open the doors to the parking lot. When
the wintery Seattle air hits my heated skin and wet hair, I relish in the
feeling of it burning my skin and freezing my lungs.
Johnny puts his hands in his pockets as he walks next to me toward our
cars, his shoulders up to his ears as he starts to shiver. For a man who’s
almost two hundred pounds and plays hockey, you’d think he’d be a little
more cold-resistant. I guess his California blood runs strong.
“I’m just messing with you, Luke,” he says, regret shining in his tone.
I let out a sigh, my frozen breath dancing in the darkness. He’s got every
right to rib me. I did suck ass today. I sucked yesterday, too. Some would
argue I sucked all week.
I’m in a slump. I know it, Johnny knows it, my team knows it. The entire
fucking hockey world knows it. It also doesn’t help that my whole body
hurts. Getting old blows. But getting older as a pro athlete blows even
harder. My body has been through the wringer since I was a kid, the effect
of which reared its ugly head after I turned thirty a few years ago. I try not
to show it, but I have a masseuse on speed dial for a reason.
“I’m going to head home, watch some game tape. I’ll see you tomorrow,”
I say, not wanting to get into my personal shit with my younger teammate.
“Dude, no. You’re not going home.” He huffs, flipping some of his
shaggy blond surfer hair off his face.
I take my keys out of my pocket and ignore him. But that doesn’t deter
Johnny—instead, he steps in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest
that’s bundled in a ridiculous winter coat. One that a person would wear for
a ski trip in the mountains.
“Seriously. I’m not kidding. You’re not going home,” he says.
“And where else would I go?” I ask. “I need sleep. Rest. Food. You know,
normal human shit.”
“I told you: You need to get laid.”
“Thank you for your wise wisdom, Johnny-boy. I’m perfectly fine.”
He lifts one of his light eyebrows at me, green eyes saying he knows I’m
full of shit. “I know a man who’s in a dry spell when I see one. And you,
my captain, are in one.”
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