Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series
Twisted Collide: Chapter 33

Nervous energy courses through me as I enter the practice arena.

How will today go?

My stomach churns as thoughts I shouldn’t even be having twist through my brain.

Will he be an asshole? Will he ignore me? And the worst one of them all . . . will he tell me it was a mistake?

I’m not sure how I’d deal with that one. Knowing me, I’d probably go to war with him, first move, swap his shampoo with bleach.

Dramatic much?

With my shoulders pulled back and all the false bravado I can muster, I proceed to the rink. The sharp scent of ice filters in through my nostrils and causes my jaw to chatter.

Okay, the trembling is from nerves, not the temperature. Although it is chilly, I always wear a sweater or hoodie when I’m working here.

Today, I’m wearing a tight-fitting, long sleeve black V-neck shirt that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. My black fitted jeans also were carefully picked to cause Dane to drool.

I need to be prepared just in case he rejects me. Revenge outfit for the win.

The closer I get, the louder the jeers of the guys become as their skates cut through the ice as they practice their drills.

I’ll inevitably have to talk to him, so it might as well be now.

It’s funny how much things can change in twenty-four hours. Yesterday, my main concern was making sure his tuxedo would fit, and today, I’m worried if he’ll acknowledge what we did yesterday.

I’m not sure which scenario is worse.

Probably the one where he acts like it didn’t happen, seeing as I, on the other hand, have replayed every detail of last night over and over again in my mind.

Every moment.

Every touch.

Every breath.

They’re all seared away, and even if I wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be able to.

What’s also etched into my brain is how he reacted right after.

From where I’m perched on the table, I watch under hooded lids as he tucks himself back into his pants.

For a moment, I think things will be okay, but then, like a curtain dropping over him, the possessive man who couldn’t get enough of me only moments ago is replaced, and the man standing next to me is someone else.

The haze from his orgasm is long gone, replaced by a tight jaw and hollow blues that won’t meet mine.

Great.

One step forward and fourteen steps back, apparently.

This is exactly the situation I didn’t want. Anxiety clings to my exposed skin like sweat on a hot day. I take a deep breath and push down the feeling of rejection clawing its way through my bones and fortify my walls.

Hard and no longer penetrable, I pat down my dress and stand from the table, taking great care to steel my spine at the same time.

“Never let them see weakness.” Words Mom always said, and now I wonder if her disposition has to do with my father leaving her. Am I doomed to be like her too?

An angry shriek has me looking over to the far side of the ice. The reason for all my current problems, my father, is there barking orders at the guys.

I continue walking as Dane moves to the bench, and Wolfe, the other defenseman, steps onto the ice to take his place. When I’m finally a few feet away, he sees me.

My stomach feels tight, and my knees are wobbly.

Dane, of course, looks as grumpy as always, and I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Josephine,” he says, his voice husky. This man could read the dictionary, and I’d listen. In his uniform, helmet off, he looks even more delicious than normal. His dark hair is slightly damp from playing, and his eyes sparkle in a way that gives me hope.

“Dane,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I, um, is there anything I can help you with today, or should I replace Laurie?”

There’s an awkward silence, and I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, I think it’s best you talk to Laurie.”

My heart hammers so violently in my chest I fear it might explode.

“About yester—”

I raise my hand to stop him from speaking. I can’t take the rejection—again. Last night was more about not getting caught, but this, this is different. To top it off, it’s bad enough that only ten feet away is my father, a man who most likely knew all about me and never wanted anything to do with me, but now this. “It’s nothing. No biggie. Forget it even happened.”

Dane’s jaw tightens, and for a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. The silence stretches between us again.

This time, it’s heavier and more uncomfortable, if that’s even possible.

From the left-hand side of the rink, I can hear the distinct sound of laughter and look over to see Hudson basically tackling Mason.

For someone who doesn’t know these guys, it would look like a fight is about to break out, but I know them, and this is just some friendly roughhousing.

“I should go,” Dane says, moving closer to the ice.

“If you need me, let me know.”

I turn and walk away, blood still pumping heavily in my veins. Finally, when I make it to the hallway near the offices, I let out the breath I’ve been holding.

That wasn’t so bad . . . oh, who am I kidding? It was awful.

Why do I have to be so damn awkward?

I lean up against the wall, taking deep inhales to calm myself.

You know what? Who cares? Dane Sinclair doesn’t want me. Big deal. It’s fine. That’s his loss.

I need to focus on what’s important. Getting the job done, building a résumé, and getting the fuck out of Dodge.

That’s it.

I don’t have time for a handsome defenseman. No matter how skilled he is, on and off the ice. I have too much on my plate for his shit. Despite my reservations about coming to work for the Saints, I see the opportunity it brings, and I’m going to use it.

I’m going to kick ass and make a life for myself.