Ryker by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Author:RJ Scott & V.L. Locey [Scott, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78564-130-5
Publisher: RJ Scott

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Owatonna is one of those old universities that used to be private and monied, but that had now been infiltrated by the masses, who called the old stone buildings their academic home. It was a campus of over two thousand. Lots of red brick buildings and stately oaks.

Dad and Ten helped me to move in. Ten was attempting incognito again, pulling the brim of his cap down farther, which meant he couldn’t see where he was going. He barreled into Dad, causing him to drop the box he was holding, which led to Ten being more the center of attention than he would’ve if he’d left the cap off entirely. Not that everyone there was a hockey fan, but this was a Minnesota institution, and the percentage of people who knew hockey, and therefore Ten had to be high.

Somehow, after he’d signed a few autographs, we made it to my dorm room. A big space, brand new, that I, at least, didn’t have to share with anyone. It came with the added benefit of a small bathroom with a toilet built into the corner, and a bigger than average bed. It wasn’t quite as nice as Rayzor’s, and of course it didn’t come with a second bed holding a sexy farmer, but still, it was good.

All going well, maybe next year, I could share with the team.

“I’m worried,” Ten announced as he peered into the bathroom.

“What about?” Dad latched onto Ten’s worries because that is what dads did best. Worried.

“The bathroom is tiny, Ry.” He looked at me in all seriousness. “Where will you fit all your hair products?”

“Ha fricking ha.” I shook my head in disappointment. “Low blow, Rowe,” I singsonged.

By the time Dad and Ten had left, I had all my hair products in a neat row on the small shelf. Of course there wasn’t room for things like toothpaste, and I decided that would have to sit in the sink for a while until I thought it through. I peered into the mirror and pulled on one of the errant curls that fell onto my forehead. Maybe it was time for the flow to get cut back. If I wanted to be a serious hockey player and study, maybe I needed to spend less time on looking my best until I actually made it to the NHL for real.

Then again, Jacob loved my hair. He loved to play with the curls, and hell, I loved it when he wound it around his fingers. Also, this was some cool hockey flow, despite the regular trims and conditioning treatments.

Then it hit me. I was standing in my room staring at myself, rating my hair on a one-to-ten scale, and this was just freaking pathetic. I had things to check out. The rink, the training facility, all the things I wanted to discover on my own, much to Dad’s disgust because he’d wanted to get in there and check it all out with me. Selfishly, I wanted to

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