Misadventures of a Rookie (Misadventures #11)(3)

Of course, that all changed when I got involved with a player, and boom, things went to utter poo. Nasty poo. But I wasn’t that girl anymore. I had moved to California with the drive to succeed as a sports therapist.

Why on earth would I end up back in hockey when I hate hockey players? Well, hockey is what I know. It was really only the antics off the ice that sparked my hatred. As a physical therapist, I’d mostly be working with injured players, and they weren’t the same at all. They were usually very driven, which I admired. There was a big difference between someone being a showboat—a guy who thought he was hot shit—and someone who was hurt but worked desperately to get back to the sport he loved. I enjoyed being around that type of hockey player, and I sure did love helping them.

Shaking my head, I looked around the arena full of people and bright lights and exhaled hard. When I came to California for physical therapy school, I figured I’d work as a server in some restaurant and wait for my chance to intern, but that wasn’t the way the Malibu Physical Therapy program worked. They placed students in internships right away. From day one I received hands-on training, and I loved it. I was especially thrilled when I learned I would be interning with the Malibu Suns, the Twin Cities Tornadoes’ farm team.

During my orientation, I learned the Suns were hiring ice girls. I had done that in Minnesota, so I asked about it. To my surprise, I was hired on the spot. It was insane, but oh so awesome. I was studying a field I loved, had an awesome internship, and was working as both a skating instructor at the practice arena and an ice girl at the games. It was the perfect situation.

The downside was the obnoxious rookies who assumed I was down to fuck. All the time.

Shoveling up another pile of hats, I cursed Gus again. My roommate Lizzy held the trash can. As we stuffed the hats in, she said, “Hopefully this is the only type of score he’ll make.”

“He’s a douche.”

Lizzy cracked up at that. “If you’d just give him a little bit, I bet it would be easier for you to chase him off.” She paused and looked over at me. “Like you do everyone else.”

I scoffed. “Fuck off. I do not chase everyone off.”

“You do too,” she insisted, shaking her head. “You’ve been here a year, and no dates, no boyfriends, no nothing. I don’t even think you own a dildo.”

“Ha. Little do you know, I have six.”

“You freak!” she teased.

I beamed at her. Lizzy and I met our first day at MPT. We clicked instantly, and thankfully, she was looking for a roommate. I was living in on-campus housing, but my roommate was disgusting. She would throw dirty panties on the ground and leave them there for a week! Lizzy promised she cleaned, and that was enough to get me to quickly move in with her.

“All you do is work and go to school. We’re in our twenties. We’re supposed to be wild and free,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “I have things to do, a future to build. I’ll be wild and free in my thirties.”

“That’s when you’re supposed to have kids.”

Her words evoked a sharp pang in my heart. By now I was practically a pro at ignoring that pain, so I waved her off, slamming a hat in the bin. “I’ll push that back to my forties.”

“So you can be sixty when they graduate? Ew, no.”

“Hey, I’ll be a hot sixty-year-old.”

She laughed. “You’re smoking now, girl!”

Lizzy was insane. All I could do was laugh as I scooped up hats with more force each time. I could hear Gus’s voice as he boasted about how easy it was to score on the other team. He was freaking insufferable.

But as much as his ego infuriated me, and as obnoxious as he sounded joking with his teammates, I pictured his moss-green eyes and thick, gorgeous lashes. His rich brown hair was usually stuffed under a helmet, but when he wasn’t on the ice, the long layers fell over his eyes. If his full lips and chiseled jaw weren’t distracting enough, he had one of the finest bodies I had ever seen. I seriously hated how ripped he was. His sex appeal made me stupid, made me want to touch him. That was not going to happen. I knew damn well I needed to keep my distance from Gus Persson.

He was the kind of trouble I had been through, and I wouldn’t go through again.

I couldn’t.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be here long. Not with how much he is killing it. He’ll be called up to the Tornadoes in no time,” Lizzy said.

Something else moved in my chest—a different feeling than the sharp pang I felt earlier—but I ignored it and tried to suppress the emotion that threatened to shake my voice. “Good,” I sputtered. “I hope he goes. We’ll get a break from cleaning up hats.”

Lizzy was right. Persson scored hat tricks left and right, which was unheard of for a defenseman. But then again, Persson wasn’t your typical defenseman. He could just as easily play forward, but he really dominated on defense. He was a force to be reckoned with. I never understood how he’d gone third in the draft. My dad and I had discussed it for hours. It was insane for a player of his ability to go so late, but he did. The Suns were benefiting from his dominating skill, and eventually the Twin Cities Tornadoes would get the ultimate prize.

Not just Gus Persson…

The Cup.

Maybe?

Men who dominated games and cut down all competition around them used to turn me on. Not anymore. I’d already had a guy like that—someone out to show the world how great he was. Just as the thought crossed my mind, I spotted Gus trying to high-five players on the other team, completely proving my point.