He shakes his head, wearing a stupid grin that makes me want to break every bone in his body. “She’s got you fucking whipped.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Streicher growls. “She’s your physio, and he’s your captain.”
McKinnon burps. He’s fucking wasted. “Whatever.”
I grab the front of McKinnon’s shirt, hauling him up straight so I can look him in the eye. Everyone in the bar is silent, listening and watching as tinny Christmas music plays.
“You don’t fucking touch her,” I tell him in a deadly calm, lethal voice as my pulse races. “You don’t go near her. You don’t look at her. You’re nothing to us. This stuff?” I gesture at the bar. “You don’t show up for these things anymore. You’re going to pull that shit? You’re not part of the team.”
He’s breathing hard with the ugliest, most resentful expression.
“I can’t kick your sorry ass off the team but I can make sure you never bother Hartley again,” I continue. “Ask for a new physio or I’ll do it for you.”
Silence stretches between us, and in McKinnon’s eyes, I see something settle. Defeat, I think.
“Understand?” I give him a shake, and he stumbles.
“Fuck you,” he spits.
My blood simmers, crackling with energy. Every primal, male instinct in me wants to hit him.
He’s wasted, though, and it’s not a fair fight. Captain, Streicher called me. I’m trying to be the guy Ward wants, and I can’t hit a guy who can barely stand up straight. Hazel watches with a worried look, and that settles it.
“Go home,” I tell him in that same deadly calm voice before letting him go. Streicher and Owens escort him out of the bar but I’m already at Hazel’s side, leaning down.
“Rory, what are you—” She lets out a yelp of surprise as I haul her over my shoulder, careful not to bump her ankle.
I’ve got one arm wrapped around Hartley, holding her steady, and Volkov places the crutches in my free hand. “I’m taking you home and you’re not going to argue,” I tell Hazel.
I need to get her out of this place. My blood is pounding with the need to get Hazel home, get her safe, and get her all to myself.
She doesn’t say a word, and Pippa’s eyes are wide as she watches us leave. Even Jordan’s eyebrows are at her hairline.
“Have a great break, everyone, and nice work today,” I announce to the silent bar, carrying Hazel out the door. “And Merry Christmas.”
CHAPTER 55
HAZEL
I wake up on Christmas Eve morning to Rory gently moving a pillow under my ankle, elevating it while I sleep. I open one eye, squinting in the bright morning light as he walks to my kitchen, studying his muscular back and broad shoulders while he rummages through the cupboards, pulling out the coffee. His ass looks so good in those tight black boxers.
It’s nice watching him move around my kitchen like he’s at home here. In the middle of the night, I woke up and reached for him and he was right there, curled around me, warm and solid and steady.
He glances over and does a double take.
“Hey, Hartley.” He walks over, and I let my gaze wander down his body, counting every well-earned ridge and groove.
There’s a twinge between my legs when I think about what we did the other night and how hard he made me come. My gaze flicks up to his but he’s frowning, concern furrowed in his brow as he looks me over.
The bed dips as he sits beside me, picking up my wrist to check the swelling. “How’s it feeling today?”
“Better.” I test my ankle out, flexing and pointing as much as I can. There’s a sharp streak of pain as I hit the limit of motion, and Rory’s eyes widen when I suck a breath in. “It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’ll stay off it today. You can wait on me hand and foot if you like.”
He makes a noise like a growl, and I shake with laughter.
“Not funny, Hartley.” His throat works and he studies me warily. “You think you’ll ever want to go skating again?”
I blanche. “Of course. After all the time you put into teaching me?” I slip my hand into his. “Besides, it’s our thing.”
He raises an eyebrow, starting to smile. “Our thing?”
My heart does a little jump, and I nod, smiling back at him. “And seeing you go psycho over me is kind of adorable. You told like, six kids to fuck off.”
He laughs, cringing. “I really did that, didn’t I?”
“Mhm.” God, he’s so pretty like this, shirtless and hair all rumpled. “Careful, Miller. People might think you really like me.”
His gaze swings to mine and his mouth tips up like he has a secret. “I do like you.”
There’s an urgent, insistent hum in my chest, but I just hold his gaze.
“And I think you like me, too,” he says, smiling more, eyes on me like nothing else exists.
I like it when he looks at me like that.
“Hmm.” I smile at him. “Maybe I do.”
He nods, still smiling, before something cold cuts through his gaze and he frowns. “About McKinnon.”
“Ugh.” The noise of disgust slips out as I make a face.
Rory drags a deep breath in and I catch a glimpse of that furious, protective version of him from yesterday. His hand squeezes my thigh, warm and steadying.
“You okay?” he asks in a low voice, watching me.
I have a feeling that if I said no, he’d do whatever it took to make it better. Seeing him lose his mind yesterday was just—
I don’t know what it was. I shouldn’t like it so much, but I do. I love seeing Rory Miller lose his fucking mind over me.
“I’m fine. Connor doesn’t matter. He’s gross and I’m glad you told him to find a new physio.” The breath whooshes out of me. “And for the millionth time, I wonder what the fuck I ever saw in him.”
Rory’s jaw ticks, and it’s laughable how much better a boyfriend he is, even when we’re faking. Even when we’ve moved into something that doesn’t feel like faking.
“But I’m fine. Truly.”
“Good.” He leans forward, careful not to put his weight on my ankle or wrist, and gives me a quick kiss.
When he sits up again, he frowns.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” he demands, stalking over to the thermostat. “I keep turning it up but it’s freezing.” He moves to the radiator, hovering his hand over the elements before giving me an outraged look. “The heat isn’t working.”
I gesture at the front hall closet. “There’s a space heater in there.”
His outraged look intensifies. “Hazel.”
“What?”
He stands, putting his hands on his trim hips, and my gaze lingers on those V muscles pointing into his waistband. Heat builds between my legs and I squeeze my thighs together.
Being around Rory is making me hornier by the second. It’s the way he smells, the way his morning voice sounds, the way he kept a protective arm around me all night.
Even his messed-up bedhead is fucking hot.
“Wow.” He folds his roped arms across his chest, amused. “Really?”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
“You’re ogling me.”