Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

I throw my cards down onto the table, and Aasher does the same.

“I’m folding,” I announce.

“Me too.” He jumps up from the table before anyone else has a chance to lay their cards down.NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

“Eager much?” Emory snorts. He rolls his eyes and pushes his cards into the middle of the table. The poker game technically isn’t over, but our little pre-game ritual is starting to become nonexistent now that Aasher is constantly rushing over to the apartment next door to hang out with the coach’s daughter, leaving the rest of the guys to their own devices.

“You going home?” Emory asks after standing up and helping Berkley and Efrain pick up the poker chips.

“You better be,’ Efrain adds. “Tomorrow’s game is going to be challenging.”

He’s right. Which is all the more reason I’m pissed at Taytum for deciding that tonight was the perfect night to go on a fucking date with some guy I don’t know.

I glance at the clock, and my blood runs hot. I told her I’d give her until 8:30 to send me that bio and photo she promised, or I was going to open her location and pull the stalker act.

I may do that anyway, depending on who she’s with.

“You talk to Tay?” Emory throws on his coat as he flips through his phone.

If I was a total dick, I’d tell him no. That way, he can interrupt her plans before they even start, but things have become testy between us. Taytum can throw me under the bus just as quickly as I can her. “I think she’s studying tonight.” It’s not technically a lie, because she was studying earlier. “There’s not much going on around campus anyway. You know how it is the night before a hockey game.”

It’s unsettling that I don’t even feel a blip of guilt from hiding something from him.

“True. Alright, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

As soon as the door shuts, I immediately pull out my phone.

She’s got three fucking minutes. 

Berkley clears his throat, and I quickly glance at him. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” I say, throwing up my hands. “Relax.”

He chuckles. “He’s going to fucking murder you if he finds out that you’re fucking his sister.”

My head snaps up so quickly from my phone that the room spins. “What the hell are you talking about? I am not fucking Tay.”

“But he wants to!” Efrain shouts from down the hall.

“We all want to,” Berkley jokes.

I glare at him, and he laughs harder. “Look at you, all crazed over the thought of it.”

“That’s nothing new! Taytum is like a sister to me. Of course I don’t want her with any of you fuckboys.”

A sister. Yeah fucking right. I’ve never thought of her as my sister. Ever.

Efrain slides down the hall in his socks. “Who are you calling a fuckboy?”

I know they’re kidding, and I need to lighten up if I want to keep up my charade of acting normal, but when my phone vibrates, I almost drop it before opening the message.

Absolutely not. 

My fingers pound against the screen.

So, what’s his name? Grandpa?

I pull my hoodie on and rush for the door. “Later, fuckboys.”

I’m safely tucked away in my car before I zoom in on the photo of Taytum. I scan the background and know right away that she’s at the only pizzeria in town that offers a cauliflower pizza crust–which is her new go-to to help control her sugars.

Her text comes in over the speakers of my car when I’m pulling out of campus.

Patricia, my car’s robot voice, says, “Actually, I prefer to call him Daddy.”

I mute the speakers before muttering, “Shut the fuck up, Patty.”

I spot her right away—looking all cute in her ripped jeans, white sneakers, and a light-blue sweater that just so happens to be hanging from her shoulder to show off some skin.

She’s tucked in the back booth with a guy at least ten years older than her, and now that Taytum has kicked me off the Bex Hex app and changed her password, I wonder if she found him there or somewhere else. You know, like a fucking nursing home.

I ping-pong my attention from him to the menu several times as I stand in line to order.

When it’s my turn, I’m faced with a pink-tinted teenager who is so shocked she stutters. “H…hi…how can I help you?” Bless her heart.

“I’d like to get an extra-large cauliflower-crust pizza with cheese.”

I keep my hood up when ordering, just in case Taytum happens to walk by.

“Are you dining here, or is this to go?”

As if I’d take it to go when Taytum is on a date with some guy she says she’s going to call Daddy. “I’m dining here.”

“Okay, and it’s…Collins, right? Or do you like to go by Ford?” The girl’s cheeks burn brighter.

I grin. “Actually, the name is Walker.”

She stares at me long and hard, probably wondering if I have a twin who plays hockey, but eventually, she accepts the name I’ve given her and hands me the ticket.

“Thanks.” I slip a tip in the jar for her cooperation and head to the opposite side of the restaurant while making sure I still have a good view of Taytum.

I slink back against the booth, spread my legs out beneath the table, and cross my arms against my chest. It’s too loud to hear anything she’s saying to her date, but something breaks in my chest when I watch her throw her head back with laughter. Her cheeks flush, and there’s a little glimmer in her eye that’s always present when she flirts.

I hope her date chokes on the pizza he’s about to bite into.

“Order up!” I push my hood off my head and stand. “For the name Walker.”

I’m staring directly at her as I prowl toward the counter. The realization flickers across her face, and I brace myself for the impact.

Her eyes flare with heat, and I’m on fire.

My smirk deepens, and her smile falls.

Taytum wants to play games and go on a date with some guy who looks like he could be her father?

Not on my fucking watch.

She only allows me one bite of pizza before she heads in my direction. Every guy stops and looks, even the ones out with a date. Her swaying hips in those jeans are a lure if I’ve ever seen one, and I hate that she’s so alluring.

I shove another bite of pizza into my mouth when she makes it over to my empty booth. The pink gloss on her lips draws my attention to her mouth, and I know it draws her date’s attention too, which only irritates me more. I usher for her to sit with my hand, but she doesn’t budge. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and seethes under her breath. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Her snippy tone forces me to chew slower, just to piss her off.

The ends of her perfectly curled hair brush against my arm when she leans into my space with flared nostrils. “Ford!” Taytum is practically foaming at the mouth, which is ironically how I felt when she texted me thirty minutes ago.

 Once I swallow my bite of pizza, she repeats her question. “What are you doing here?”

I reach for my drink, but she snatches it away at the last second, causing me to laugh under my breath. “I’m eating pizza, obviously.” I flick my chin toward her date. “What’s he doing here? Robbing the cradle?”

I chuckle at my own joke, but Taytum doesn’t find it funny.

Surprise, surprise. 

“Professor Sterling isn’t that much older than me,” she states.

I grip the table. “Professor?”

Taytum’s eyes widen. “I mean Augustus!”

I ask a question I’m not sure I want the answer to. “Is he a professor at Bexley U?”

Nope. Nada. Not happening.

She shifts on her feet uncomfortably and looks back to the table before swinging her attention to me again. “Yes, but he isn’t my professor anymore, and he’s only thirty-four, so chill.”

I stare at her.

She stares at me.

We’re having a silent argument, and I’m three seconds from picking her up by her waist, draping her over my shoulder, taking the pizza to go, and driving us home.

My cup clinks against the table when she places it back down. “You promised, Ford.” Her eyes soften around the edges, and I’m a sucker because I fall for the innocent act.

I bite the inside of my cheek when she turns around and heads back to her date.

I did promise her I wouldn’t interfere, and I rarely break my promises.

But Taytum has already become an exception, considering I’ve already broken a promise to her brother, and now I’m about to break another promise, because if her date so much as breathes in the wrong direction, he’s dead.