Playing it Up (The York Bombers, #4) by Lisa B. Kamps

Author:Lisa B. Kamps [Kamps, Lisa B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: hockey romance, Alpha Hero, enemies to lovers, domestic violence, athlete, steamy, Series, athlete hero, ice hockey, new adult
Publisher: Lisa B. Kamps
Published: 2017-08-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The night air held a damp chill, the kind that cut straight through to the bone. Zach pulled the collar of his leather jacket up around his neck and glanced up. The dark sky was mostly clear, with just a few ghostly clouds blocking out the light from the moon and stars. He didn't think they were calling for snow.

Christ, he hoped not. It was too late in the season for snow. He just wanted winter over and done with already. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he winced, knowing that they'd probably skip over the mild spring weather and move straight to the humid stickiness of summer.

The only good thing about summer was that he'd be able to break out his bike and head north to the lake. A tent, a sleeping bag, and some fishing gear was all he needed, just to get away from it all. Peace, quiet, and a little bit of wooded nature—his personal idea of relaxation and meditation.

Unlike the bickering that was floating across the parking lot.

Zach rolled his eyes then stepped onto the sidewalk to wait for everyone else: Jason, Travis, Ben. Tyler had bugged out, making up some damn excuse about wanting to go home and do yoga or some shit to get ready for the upcoming home stretch starting tomorrow night. Yeah, right. Zach had no doubt that whatever yoga Tyler had in mind, it included Jenny.

And Jason still had no clue.

Unbelievable.

The bickering trio finally reached the sidewalk. Ben was giving Travis shit about something and Jason was arguing with whatever Ben was saying. Something about finding the right woman or some shit. Zach rolled his eyes and tuned them out, reaching for the door of Mystic's.

It flew open, nearly hitting him in the shoulder. He stepped back as some asshole hurried past, brushing against him.

"Out of my way." The words came out as a growl, low and threatening. At least, it would have been threatening if the guy had anything to back it up with. He didn't.

He was a good head shorter than Zach, with a lanky build and an awkward gait, like a kid trying to imitate some gunslinger in an old western. Or maybe he was walking funny because of those stupid fucking skinny jeans that hung down past his bony fucking ass.

Zach had no idea what the fucking style was called, but the guy had it nailed: worn and dirty skinny jeans, beat up loafers, a dark baggy sweater that was stretched out and loose enough to show the collar of the white t-shirt under it. A grungy gray knit beanie was pulled low over his head, with hanks of dark blonde hair sticking out from the sides and back.

Zach immediately pegged him as a loser, the kind that went through life expecting a hand-out because he was convinced the world owed him everything while he went off to find himself.

Zach almost said something then changed his mind as the guy stepped off the sidewalk and hurried across the parking lot.

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