“I’m fine.”

“Baylor, come on,” Mandie says. “Your face is swelling.”

I don’t care, though. This guy isn’t going to beat me. When I look up, though, he is there, towering over me in all his sexy glory. No, wait, his caveman glory. He is not sexy! Looking down at me, he reaches out, stroking the tender spot and shakes his head.

“You need ice.”

“It can wait. Next goal wins.”

“Or we can call it a tie,” he suggest.

“I don’t tie, I win,” I say with a shake of my head. “And if you let me win, I’ll kick you in your dick.”

He scoffs. “Has anyone told you you’re a bitch?”

I nod. “Daily.”

“Well, they just don’t know you,” he says softly, and I didn’t expect that. Cautiously, I meet his gaze and I’m confused. Why would he say that? “You’re not a bitch, you’re driven, and it’s fucking hot.”

“Are you flirting with me?” I ask, my eyes burning into his.

“Maybe.”

I glare. “You and that fucking maybe.”

“I can’t show you all my cards, Moore. I have to test ya out.”

“No reason. We’ll never see each other again, and nothing will ever happen between us.”

“Maybe,” he says with a nod. “But we’re making memories.”

“That’s a really girlie thing to say.”

“Yeah? My mom says I am kinda sensitive.”

I smile. “So in all reality, you’ll be the one crying when I score?”

He grins back. “Will you comfort me?”

“With a beer. That’s all.”

“So, no sex?” he says, and I’m not sure if he is joking or not.

I nod. “No chance.”

“Hmm, so I guess the only way of scoring is by winning this, huh?”

“You can try,” I suggest, and his grin gets bigger.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, but he doesn’t realize I am distracting him. And because I’ve cut left every time, I go right. It’s like he is in my brain, though, because he takes the puck from me with ease and rushes the goal. Before he can shoot though, I poke check it out to the right and rush it. I hear him behind me, ready to steal it, so I shoot from my backhand, and to my complete and utter surprise, it hits the side of the fucking pipe.

Oh my God, my dad would flip his shit if he saw that!

Our little audience screams out, some in victory—the girls—and the others in distress—the boys—as I throw my arms up. Turning, complete surprise on my face, I say, “Holy shit.”

“That was a lucky shot,” he says with a grin, his eyes boring into mine.

I nod and then I point at him. “Maybe,” I say in a teasing way. “But luck or not, I won.”

“Today, Moore,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it, his large, warm hand wrapping around mine. For some reason, it feels erotic, almost dirty, and I like it. Coming closer, he squeezes my hand as he says roughly, “But we’ll see who really scores later.”

Pulling back, I grin at him and shake my head. “Well, I guess that means you’ll be zero for two if you think you’re scoring with me.”

“Maybe,” he says with a wink. “Or maybe not.”

Heat washes over me as my stomach clenches while his eyes hold mine. As I watch his retreating back while his brothers give him shit, I decide that he could be my Achilles’ heel.

And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

“Ha, you got beat by a girl.”

I roll my eyes, pushing Jace away from me. “She isn’t even a girl. She’s a hybrid.”

That has him laughing as Jude says, “And you got shot down. She’s beating you in every possible way.”

“For now,” I say confidently.

“Whatever, you won’t get any,” Jude laughs, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably a lesbian.”

“For sure. I’m kinda scared of her,” Jace adds.

“Why, ’cause she might eat pussy?” Jude asks, confused.

“No, because she’s too good. Like he said, hybrid good. She’s hot and can beat your ass in the sport we are supposed to be the best at.”

Thinking he may be right¸ I don’t want to admit that, so I say, “Eh, she may have beat me, but it was luck.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jace says as he climbs the stairs up to the patio with Jude behind him. “She’s got some mad skills.”

Not wanting to give her any more praise, I shrug before I carry our bag and sticks into the garage. Since I’m the loser, I have to put shit away, and man, it’s fucking killing me that I lost to her.

But she was magnificent.

I’ve never played against someone like her. Yeah, I’ve played with the best guys in the league, guys who go straight into the draft to be first and second picks, but there is something about Baylor’s game that has me in awe. As much as I want to hate on her and talk trash, I can’t. I have to respect her because it’s a great game. Even if she does kick your ass and doesn’t care one bit about what she does to you, I can’t help but be completely spellbound by her.

Probably has a lot to do with the fact that I want to fuck her brains out too.

Throwing everything down, I go to get the goal and I let out a groan when I lift it. Man, she has some elbows and hips on her. She got me good in the ribs and then in my hip too. I probably have bruises. Setting the goal down, I lift my shirt, and sure as shit, I have a few red marks that are on their way to being black bruises. Not that I mind them, I appreciate them, they make me stronger. As much as I wished plenty of times that she was naked as she was rubbing and smacking into me, I also wanted to win. I wanted to put her in her place. She’s cocky but not at the same time. It’s weird. She may not rub it in your face that she is better than you, but she sure does give you a look that tells you just that.

It’s insane.

She cheered like she should; she’s a great player. But if Jude or Jace would have scored the way she did, they would have shoved it down my throat, kicked me in the balls, and then given me shit for weeks. All Baylor did was look me in the eye and I knew that she thought she was better than me. I don’t know which is worse, honestly. I don’t like losing, and I really don’t like losing to a girl. But again, I don’t think she’s really a real girl. Though, I felt her against me. Was engrossed in her intoxicating and musky smell. Saw down her tank, the curve of her breasts, the thickness of her ass and thighs. I found myself begging to taste the red of her lips. To be the one to smear it along her jaw and off her lips. I don’t know what girl wears bright red lipstick like that and can puck-handle the way she can, but I’m pretty sure Baylor is not real. She may be all female, but she’s a dude when it comes to hockey. That’s the only thing I can come up with, and she’s probably the only one of her kind.