Line Brawl: The Dartmouth Cobras #8

by Bianca Sommerland

  Her pulse quickened, and she leaned closer to the glass to get a better look. The man was…hell, she wasn’t sure exactly what he was, but it was somewhere between all her favorite candies and double fudge chocolate ice cream, drizzled with chocolate syrup. So tempting, so forbidden. From his devilish smile, sexy as sin even with blood slick on his bottom lip, to his magnetic gaze, with eyes that were the most beautiful shade she’d ever seen. Rich green with a hint of silver gray.

  A bit closer and she conked her head on the glass.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, Akira pulled her back and lightly rubbed her forehead. “Sweetie, please tell me you’re not drooling over Shawn ‘Easy’ Pischlar.”

  I’m drooling? Justina’s cheeks heated as she quickly wiped the heel of her palm over her lips. “The ‘Easy’ is because he’s a smooth puck handler, right?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Justina glanced back down at the ice as Pischlar headed to the penalty box. Not that she’d really thought she’d have a chance with a man like him, but now she knew she should forget even wishing she could. He was the kind of man her mother had warned her to avoid at all costs.

  He’d ruin her, break her heart, and she would be miserable.

  “Honey, don’t look so upset! I mean, he’s hot. I guess. Not my type, but I don’t blame you for enjoying the view. Just thought I’d give you a heads up. He’d be so bad for you.”

  Nodding slowly, Justina considered all the other things she’d gotten a heads up about. Because they were 'bad for her.' All the things she’d never gotten to touch, or taste, or experience.

  “My mom says all the sweets I fucking crave are bad for me too.” Justina chewed on her bottom lip when Akira’s eyes widened. Her new friend had never heard her swear. She took a deep breath and kept going. “I want to go with you and the girls to get ice cream before we head to the club. And…and when we get there, I want to meet him.”

  Chapter 9

  Living here fucking sucked.

  Sam finished scrubbing the counter, looking around the kitchen and hoping it was up to Chicklet’s standards.

  Max must really hate her to have convinced Sloan to send her here, of all places. Chicklet was such a bitch. She had absolutely no sense of humor, and she was always watching everything Sam did. Sam hadn’t gotten a moment alone with either Raif or Tyler since she’d moved in a few days ago. Almost like the woman didn’t trust her or something.

  Had Sloan or Max told Chicklet that she’d kissed Sloan? It hadn’t been a big deal, but still, kinda private.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, she went to the sink to wash the breakfast dishes. She so needed to get a job and find her own place. At least Laura was nice. She’d made breakfast and stayed with Sam in the kitchen while the other three ate in the dining room. They’d chatted a bit about random stuff. Like where Sam was planning to go to school and where she could find a job even with her horrible track record.

  Too bad Laura had had to go to work. Now Sam was stuck with the scary Amazon woman and two men who were acting like losing a damn game was the end of the world.

  Slow steps warned her that someone had joined her in the kitchen. She turned around and her chest tightened as she watched Raif feel his way along the kitchen island. He had a mug in his hand. He probably wanted a refill. Had Chicklet told him to suck it up and serve himself?

  She really is a horrible person. The man is blind!

  “Let me get that, Raif.” She moved to take the cup from him.

  He jerked away and cracked the mug against the edge of the counter. “I can…Jeba te led!”

  Blood dripped onto the dark gray tiled floor. Sam grabbed a towel and rushed to his side. “Please let me help you. I hate being useless.”

  Lifting his uncut hand to his forehead, Raif nodded and let her take what was left of the mug then compressed the nasty cut between his thumb and his finger with the towel. “I apologize for my language, child. I understand feeling useless.”

  “But you’re not useless. You’re just adjusting. You’ve got a big hotel thing going on in Vegas. Even without playing hockey, you’re…amazing. There’s so much you can do.” She wished he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. Not that it would matter if she could meet his eyes, he wouldn’t see it. But…but she would have a better idea of his expression. If her words were helping at all. “I know nothing I can say will make this better, but when I look at you, I see a fucking sexy man with everything going for him.”

  His lips quirked up slightly. “You certainly aren’t bad for a man’s ego, slatkica. And I appreciate your words.”

  She grinned up at him, feeling damn good for having made him smile. Even just a little. She rose up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” The sharp tone had her jerking back. Then forward, because fuck Tyler being all stupid jealous.

  Raif was bleeding, but at least he liked her.

  She scowled at Tyler as he stepped up beside Raif. “Are you? He’s hurt, and you’re an asshole for fucking making him get his own coffee.”

  “He wanted to do it himself!” Tyler’s normally cute face—not so cute with all the golden scruff he’d let grow in, but still not bad—darkened to a harsh crimson shade. “That doesn’t explain you kissing him! Are you that desperate for attention?”

  Pulling away from her slowly, Raif fisted his hand around the towel and turned to face Tyler. “Desperate? Well, I’m flattered. A pretty girl giving me any attention must be desperate.”

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “Then what did you mean?”

  Oh boy, I better get out of here before…

  Yeah. Too late.

  She tried to hide behind Raif as Chicklet stepped into the room, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed over her tiny breasts.

  Chicklet didn’t look at all bothered by the way the men were yelling. “And the Carter siblings claim another victim. Tyler, you kissed her brother. I can’t see Raif making out with her in the kitchen, but even if he did, fair play and all.”

  “So you’re cool with her going after a married man, then coming here and hitting on Raif?” Tyler gave Sam a cold look, like she was a snake that had just slithered into his home that he couldn’t convince anyone else to get rid of. “Because I’m not.”

  “Sloan is a big boy. He is capable of—and did—tell Sam that what she did was inappropriate. Raif will do the same if it bothers him.” Chicklet smirked when Sam glared at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Do you not like people speaking as though you’re not in the room?”

  “I don’t give a shit. If you want to make a big deal over a little kiss, you can do it without me.” Sam hugged herself, hating that just a look from Chicklet made her feel like she’d done something wrong. She hadn’t!

  Not this time, anyway. Kissing Sloan might not have been her brightest move ever.

  “Did you listen to a word Sloan said when he brought you here? You’re like a child, which is why he put up with you being clingy.”

  “That’s not what he said!” Sam stomped her foot. Then realized her action were proving the evil Amazon’s point. “He told me he wanted me to know I wasn’t alone, but I misunderstood his attention for something more. Could have happened to anyone.”

  “I’m sure,” Chicklet said dryly, shaking her head. She turned to Raif. “Do you want to fuck the girl?”

  Raif pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger. “No.”

  “Good. Just so there’s no further misunderstandings. Why don’t you take your coffee to your room, princess? My men and I need to have a few words.” Dismissing Sam, Chicklet latched on to Tyler’s jaw and whispered against his lips. “My naughty, possessive angel. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

  Ew. Sam rolled her eyes and slipped out into the hall. She heard Tyler let out a strained moan. Then Raif’s deep laughter.

  Knowing that Tyler had fooled around with her brother—and I’m the slut
?—explained why he was so cold toward her. Luke probably hadn’t had a chance to explain that they were cool now. But Chicklet’s attitude didn’t make any sense. She was Sloan’s friend, but Sloan hadn’t been pissed. He hadn’t told her much, other than it would be better for them all if she stayed here until they found her an apartment, but she wasn’t stupid. Max had demanded Sloan get rid of her.

  Where Oriana stood on the issue was a little harder to read. She’d asked Sam to call if she needed anything. Hugged her and asked Chicklet to take care of her. She’d been nice, but no one could be that nice.

  Could they?

  Maybe Oriana was just being careful so Sam wouldn’t take the kid back. Not like that would ever happen. Even if she had any urges to be a mom, where would she keep a kid? She was having a hard time finding a place willing to keep her.

  Finishing off her coffee, she half watched some reality show on TV about a bunch of rich chicks crying over dresses. She’d almost nodded off when the door opened.

  Chicklet gave her a sad look before coming over to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sam, I think we need to talk. I have a feeling we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Why? I don’t care if you hate me.” Sam sat up and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. She pressed her eyes shut when Chicklet simply sat there, like she was waiting for something. “Look, I get it. I have nowhere else to go, and I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay. But…I don’t know, I guess I’m not good living with people. I was on my own a lot growing up. And I was good fending for myself.”

  “When did you start stealing?”

  Sam blinked. What did that have to do with anything? “Huh?”

  “At some point, you decided there were things you didn’t have, that you wanted. So you learned to take them. Maybe it felt wrong at first, or maybe it gave you a rush. Either way, you don’t worry about the consequences until it’s too late.” Chicklet put her hand on Sam’s shoulder, a small, tired smile on her lips. “I think that’s part of why you went after Sloan. You convinced yourself it was ‘no big deal’.”

  “He’s in a relationship with two other people. He’s a Dom. He can do whatever he wants.”

  Chicklet’s eyes widened. Then she laughed. “Oh, sweetie, please don’t try to understand power dynamics like that. Those three are in a committed relationship. Doms never just do what they want, but we’re not getting into that now. I don’t like the way Tyler flipped out, but he’s very protective of Raif, and they are in a committed relationship. I am in a more open one with Laura, Tyler, and Raif, but we communicate before doing anything with anyone else. Does that make sense?”

  Yeah. Clear as mud. Sam shrugged. “I’m not trying to get with Raif. I was trying to make him feel better.”

  “It sounded like Tyler caught you kissing him.”

  “A quick peck on the lips. It was nothing.”

  “To you, maybe not. But would you do that to a married man who was in a traditional relationship?” When Sam shook her head, Chicklet inclined hers. “No, because the boundaries are clear. I don’t know what kind of kinky books you’ve been reading, but they are fiction. The reality is much more complicated.”

  “Yeah, I kinda get that now.” Sam grazed her bottom lip with her teeth and studied Chicklet’s patient expression. Maybe the woman wasn’t so bad after all. She hadn’t come in here yelling, which Sam had expected. Sam liked Chicklet not being pissed at her. “Do you think I could get a job at your bar? I need to be doing something. I’m bored, and I feel stuck, and I really need to put my life together.”

  “Yes you do… But it’s not my bar. It’s Ford’s.” Chicklet’s lips thinned. “I’ll talk to him, but I can’t promise anything. Your habit of taking things that don’t belong to you isn’t a secret.”

  I’m fucked. Sam nodded, shoulders hunched.

  Chicklet tugged her hair lightly and laughed. “Chin up, kiddo. Ford has a shady past. If I promise to keep an eye on you, he might give you a chance.”

  “Really? You’d do that for me?” Yep, Chicklet was awesome. People didn’t usually give Sam a second chance. Or even a first one.

  The older woman’s eyes narrowed. She tipped Sam’s chin up with a finger. “I will, but don’t fuck with me, Sam. You steal from Ford under my watch, and I’ll have you arrested. You’re rude to a single customer, slack off, or show anything other than respect to me and anyone else you’re working with and I will fire you myself. I won’t leave you homeless, but if you push me too far, I’ll ship you off to my father’s place. You won’t be able to get in any trouble—or have any fun—out there. Got it?”

  Sam’s mouth went dry. Whoever had raised Chicklet must be a serious hard-ass. Being arrested sounded less scary than being shipped off. She nodded, determined not to screw up this time.

  But…there was one problem. “Does that mean I can have fun here?”

  Snorting, Chicklet sat back, bracing herself on her hands behind her, looking much younger all relaxed. “Absolutely. So long as the man—or woman—is willing, go wild. Check relationship status though.”

  “Yeah, yeah. And stay away from Sloan.”

  “If you want me to continue being pleasant that would be a good idea. I love Oriana. Thankfully, she sees you as a confused little girl and wasn’t upset over what happened. If she was…” Chicklet’s lips slid into a slow, devious smile. “I would make your life miserable.”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?”

  Chicklet laughed. “Oh my sweet, summer child. No, what I was doing was forcing you to be a contributing member of the household.”

  Which was fair. Sucked when she had to do dishes and the guys ate a bazillion meals a day, but she wasn’t paying rent or anything. However, that didn’t explain why Chicklet had been bitchy.

  Saying that would be crazy though, so Sam worded her question carefully. “You didn’t seem to like me very much when I first got here.”

  “I didn’t. You’re a little punk.” Chicklet hopped up, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “But you’re cute, in a clueless kinda way. And you were honestly trying to comfort Raif. Which puts you in my good books. Next time, either a quick hug or a blowjob. No one will get confused.”

  As Chicklet sauntered out of the room, Sam stared after her, lips parted. Then shook her head and giggled. The woman was outrageous. Completely nuts.

  She might make a good friend now that they understood one another.

  Unless Sam got on her bad side.

  Then she’d make a very, very bad enemy.

  Chapter 10

  A block from a destination Ian hadn’t even realized he’d set out for, he turned around and headed back the way he’d come. The team was heading to Toronto tomorrow. He could figure out where things stood with Pisch then. When he didn’t have a choice but to be near him for hours on end.

  Sounds like fun.

  The worst thing was he’d lied to Pisch. Right to his face. More than once.

  He’d told him he was fine with an open relationship.

  He’d agreed to the ‘no keeping’ terms.

  He’d even told Pisch he was ‘over’ seeing him fucking Richards.

  Lying was a coward’s way out, but the truth was, Ian wasn’t sure how he felt about any of the shit that had gone down. In the moment, the sensations, the sex, had been fucking amazing. The mess the next morning? Not so great.

  Inhaling the damp, ocean air as he jogged along the small business district around the edges of Dartmouth, he let himself go back to the moment he’d woken up in Pisch’s bed. He’d been…happy. Like that was where he belonged.

  The pillow, covered in the cool Ninja Turtles pillowcase Pisch had obviously gotten for him, was tight against his chest. Pisch had brought it to him. Which was sweet, and not many people did sweet things for Ian.

  The sex stuff was over, so Richards would take off and Ian and Pisch could hang out. Spend time together like they always did, only with a new…hell, he didn’t know what to call it. A stronger bond
? The beginning of something that could last a long time if he didn’t try to change Pisch into the ideal boyfriend.

  He’d actually thought that too. Of Pisch being his boyfriend. And he’d chuckled, because Pisch would cut and run so fucking fast if that label ever crossed Ian’s lips.

  Should have freaked Ian out a bit too, but nah. He couldn’t suck the guy’s dick, love him more than he’d ever loved anyone, and then cling to being straight. Or even gay for Pisch, because he’d fucked Richards.

  Maybe he was fluid. Which was cool. He could deal with that.

  Feeling good at having settled all the tangled shit in his head, he’d climbed out of bed, went to the spare bedroom to get dressed, and headed for the kitchen.

  Then straight out the door without looking back. His chest had hurt just as bad then as it did now, while he pushed his body harder, lengthening his strides and breaking into a full out run.

  He wasn’t even sure if seeing Pisch fucking Richards was what really got to him. It was the pure bliss. The way Pisch let go as he slammed into the rookie’s tight little ass.

  The same one Ian had fucked the night before.

  Only…Ian had been with Pisch then. All he’d felt, all he’d experienced, had included Pisch.

  When he’d saw Pisch with Richards, part of him was crushed because he realized he wasn’t needed.

  He’d been warned. The terms of their relationship had been spelled out for him, very clearly, but he still hadn’t gotten it until reality was staring him in the face.

  And the reality was that he was more alone now than ever.

  Lungs burning, he slowed near an intersection, walking for a bit along a street lined with restaurants and grungy little bars. His throat was dry, and to be honest, he wanted a damn drink. Maybe drinking the night before a game wasn’t smart, but he knew his limits.

  No matter how pissed he was, he wouldn’t pass them. The game was his life.