Sin Bin by Maria Luis

Sin Bin by Maria Luis

Author:Maria Luis [Luis, Maria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alkmini Books, LLC
Published: 2017-07-26T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirteen

ANDRE

I’m going to fucking regret this.

Zoe Mackenzie has been a thorn in my side for two years. She was a thorn when she was my PR agent back in Detroit; she was a thorn when she wasn’t even in my life, and all I had was the memory of her to haunt me every night. And now that she’s back in it? Now that we’ve come full circle, like the last year of radio silence never even happened?

She’s driving me crazy.

Every last rational thought in my brain is telling me to walk out of the bar. To go home and get my ass to bed before I do something I’ll regret.

But the irrational part of me, the part of me that doesn’t care about professionalism or emotional boundaries wants to storm back into the bar and prove that Marshall-fucking-Hunt doesn’t have what it takes to satisfy her.

I do—only I do.

And just like that night a year ago when I kissed her like it was the last thing I’d ever do, I’m tempted to pull a repeat and do it all over again. That night a year ago, it sure felt like my life depended on her kiss, on her.

And right now . . .

I drop my forehead against the door that leads into the exclusive area of The Box, and inhale sharply through my nose. I shove aside the ridiculous slice of disappointment that she doesn’t want me. She’s smart on that score. Damn smart. Unlike me, the King of Bad Decisions, she’s making a good one by choosing a guy who isn’t running from his own shadow. Zoe will always be better off without me—not that she ever realized that fact.

She’s the woman who’ll bring you Advil when you’re hungover. The kind of woman willing to shoot the shit over a game of pool. The kind of woman who’ll make you forget your own name.

The kind of woman who doesn’t need to be dragged down by excess emotional baggage like mine.

Curling one hand into a fist, I push away from the door. She wants me to be nice? She wants me to be like Marshall-goddamn-Hunt?

Done.

My fingers grasp the doorknob and yank it open. I force myself to slow my gait as I enter the backroom where my teammates are waiting for me to make a damn fool out of myself. Any other day, and I’d give that to them—but not tonight, not when the woman I’ve been dreaming about for a week straight wants me to be someone else.

“Here he is, ladies and gents,” Jackson, a left wing, hollers from the bar, “King Sin Bin!”

The nickname rubs raw. While enforcers in the league are certainly a dying breed, the stigma hasn’t quite faded. Goon. Meathead. Impulsive. Only the impulsive bit rings true for me, and it’s something I’ve worked on over the years. Think before you drop gloves. Think before you smash a guy into the boards. For the most part, I’m leashed tight on the ice, only breaking into a fight when the situation calls for it.



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