Rush the Edge: A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Blue Devils Hockey Book 3)

It isn’t often that an impulsive idea of mine works out, but the hockey gods must be on my side lately because I haven’t seen Daisy since I crossed various lines in that stuffy dressing room with her.

Unfortunately, my head is spinning, but it has nothing to do with her.

I grip my phone and reread the text.

Unknown

Kane, I’ve found myself in a less-than-ideal situation. Can you help me out?

How can one message make my chest tight with anxiety? I deleted Miles’s number a long time ago because it changed so often. I was sick of deleting and resaving another, but I know when it’s him, even if we go months without a conversation.

I place my phone on the bench beside me and start to lace my skates—the left one first, as always. The team is talking amongst themselves, Hart and Emory having an in-depth conversation about someone on the opposing team, but I can’t be bothered to chime in because I’m trying to figure out a response to another piece of the past creeping up to haunt me.

My phone vibrates again, and I crack my neck.

Don’t text him back until later.

Unknown

I know I’ve said it before, but this will be the last time. I swear.

If I had a fucking dime for every time he’s said that to me and I put it in an account for him, he’d never be in debt again.

“You ready?” Malaki sits right next to my phone to lace his own skates.

I angrily toss the annoying device into my locker, hopeful that I’ve cracked the screen so I physically can’t respond to the text.

“I’m always ready.”

He eyes me suspiciously, sensing my already angry mood.

I ignore him to grab my stick and black tape. Starting at the heel, I sink into a type of solace no one would understand as I begin wrapping it.

Fifteen times.

I smooth the edges methodically and sink into the quiet.

My nostrils flare whenever something other than the game starts to peer over the mental walls I’ve thrown up, but as soon as they’re in place, I stand and head for the ice. My heart rams against my ribs as I stride through the tunnel. The arena comes into view, and I inhale deeply.

Home.

I find a puck after stepping onto the ice, the crowd clapping in the background.

I block the noise easily, like it’s second nature. I fiddle with the black biscuit until I send it soaring into the net.

A few of my teammates are stretching, while others are skating around, getting familiar with the puck.

Rhodes is near the glass, talking to his daughter—who is admittedly the cutest pain in the ass ever—and her nanny, who I guess is his girlfriend now too.

I learned that the hard way.

It’s fun to piss him off, though, so there are no regrets there.

Malaki skates over to me, and I do my best to ignore him as I bend down to stretch. One leg goes out in front of me and then the other. He follows my moves, and as soon as we make eye contact, he smiles like a fool.

“What?” I snap.

“I like the energy, man.”

I scoff. “What energy?”

He begins stretching against the ice like he’s starring in a pornographic video.

“Stop dry-humping the ice.”

He points his glove at me. “That energy. You’re more testy than usual. We’re going to need it. Have you seen who the line ref is?”

Hopefully not the one I almost put through a wall the other night when I found him salivating over Daisy.

“Who?”

Before he can answer, the crowd starts to make a ruckus.

Minnesota must have taken the ice.

I stand and shake my arms out before cracking my neck.

“What the hell—” Malaki’s dry chuckle snags my attention. “Who is that?” He pauses. “Ohhhhh no.”

Not bothering to turn to see what he’s staring at, I sigh. “What?”

“Uh…” Malaki’s mouth forms a straight line, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m not patient enough for your bullshit,” I mutter.

With a half turn, I see what has the crowd going wild. My blood runs hot, and if I wasn’t so steady on skates, I’d have slipped and fallen.

I’m going to kill her.

Deep in my bones, I knew it was too good to be true. Daisy Sullivan is no coward. Why would I assume that she’d retreat after I ripped her costume to shreds? I should have expected that she’d have something else up her sleeve. She always did keep me on my toes, but shit.

I didn’t think she’d do…this.

My vision blurs with anger, but the closer I get to her, the clearer my sight becomes.

Why does she have to be so alluring?

Daisy is the pretty lone flower in a field of men craving her attention. Devil horns and all, she’s gaining the attention of every single person in the arena. The men want her, and the women want to be her.

“Let’s give our new mascot a huge Blue Devil welcome!”

I glare at Cindy with her microphone and headset on. Was this her doing?

Daisy, who is dressed in a sort of figure-skater dress, does a simple two-foot turn on her skates with a wave of her devil trident. The apples of her cheeks shimmer with some type of sparkle, and she looks more like an ice princess versus a devil.

My heart screams inside my chest as I attempt to glare at her, but just looking at her softens something inside of me.

I hate it.

My teammates tap their sticks against the ice as Cindy hands Daisy the microphone. The urge to skate across the rink, fling her over my shoulder, and send her packing is almost blinding.

This is on national television.

When it comes to Daisy, I have to react precisely, when there aren’t millions of eyes on us.

With one hand on the microphone and the other holding her trident, her sweet voice fills my head as well as everyone in the arena.

“Let’s give it up for our Blue Devils!”

The crowd screams and claps, most of them rising to their feet.

I stay in my exact spot, likely melting the ice beneath my skates from the heat I’m feeling.

Daisy exchanges the microphone for blue foam tridents that Cindy gives her and takes off toward the glass. My breath lodges inside my throat when little kids come running down the steps with their arms stretched out wide for one of them.

Great, the whole fucking fan base loves her.

Even my teammates.

Ninety percent of them are standing around with their sticks loose in their grip and a haze covering their face—that haze being Daisy fucking Sullivan.

“Get to warming up,” I shout on my drive-by toward our new mascot.

It snaps them out of their fantasies, and they go back to stretching. My jaw grinds back and forth while I watch Daisy attempt to throw a trident over the glass. One drops to the ice, and she bends over to retrieve it.

I stare at the perfect view of her ass.

Sure, there’s a flimsy see-through piece of fabric there, but it does nothing to hide her body.

When she attempts to throw the trident again, she stretches herself as much as she can, revealing the mesh, skin-colored material along her torso.

My mouth runs dry when I get a side-glimpse of her breast. The mental walls I carefully built earlier to block everything out, except for hockey, crumble, blending right in with the ice shavings my skates are currently making while I rush the edge of the arena.

I stop abruptly when black-and-white stripes slip into the picture.

My least favorite referee appears beside her.

Wes.

My fingers tingle inside my gloves.

I’d love to punch his smug face, especially when he singles me out on the ice. Even more so now that he’s hovering over Daisy.

The outer parts of my vision tint with anger when Wes’s hand slips around Daisy’s waist. He helps her throw a trident over the glass.

Don’t do anything in haste, Kane.

I picture myself ramming into him so hard he smashes into the glass, but I can’t do that.

I can’t let my irritation over Daisy bleed onto the ice and ruin the only thing I have keeping me afloat.

A fuming breath erupts from my mouth as I reel myself in.

I stop right beside Daisy, my skates digging into the ice between us. If I went an inch farther, I’d have bumped into her. I would have saved her from falling on the ice, but I may have accidentally choked Wes in the process.

Lost opportunity.

“Look who it is…my favorite referee,” I grit.

Wes smirks, knowing he’s already under my skin. Daisy, on the other hand, looks startled. Her pretty pink lips part, and I can’t stop staring at the blue shimmer on her high cheekbones.

“Nice outfit.” I snort.

Her eyebrows cave but only for a split second.noveldrama

The next, they’re rising to her hairline with shock because I quickly steal the rest of the tridents out of her hand and toss most over the glass to various fans.

“It’s not nice to steal things that don’t belong to you,” Daisy scolds me, yet she keeps her pretty smile on her face for the eyes watching us.

I play nice for the same reason she is and smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve stolen something from you, is it?”

Her lips part as she sucks in a sharp breath.

Seeing her cheeks ripen makes my entire night.

Wes leans forward, but I cut him off before he can put his nonsense into the mix.

“Did you hear that, Stripes?” I slowly skate backward. “Shouldn’t steal things that aren’t yours.”

His gaze slides to Daisy before circling back to me. I raise an eyebrow. You get it? Leave her alone.

Not waiting for his silent answer, I skate toward Ellie, Rhodes’s daughter, and throw her the last foam trident. She screams with glee, and I wink at her.

When I turn around to head toward center ice, I catch Daisy climbing off the ice, but not before she gives one more wave to the crowd and a scathing glare over at me.