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“You don’t know?” one sow bellowed over all the laughter. “How could you not know?”

“Anything else, Ma, or can I leave you to the comedy stylings of your teammates?” Smug and ungrateful. That was the kid Cella had been cursed with.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Cella disconnected the call and roared at her teammates, but that only made them laugh harder.

“So when are you coming to the Island to meet the rest of the family?”

Crush froze. He wanted to scream, “Never!” But he knew that would be a bad idea. They were now in the hallway outside the locker rooms and it was packed with family and friends of the Carnivores and word seemed to have already spread that he was, somehow, the boyfriend of Bare Knuckles. A player he considered kind of reprehensible since she seemed to fight more than skate.

“Uhhhh ... that’s up to your daughter?”

“Well, make it soon.” Nice Guy gave a small shrug. “Trust me on this.”

Not sure what he was talking about and, to be honest, not really caring, Crush said, “Sure. Will do.” It was the same answer he gave his bosses when he didn’t know what they were talking about and didn’t care.

The Marauder came out of the locker room, his well-known and vicious scowl leading the way. With that expression on his face, you’d think the team had lost. But they hadn’t. Although, they had barely won.

Still, there seemed to be one thing that could make the Marauder smile no matter what, and she was skating toward him on those skates with four wheels, bruises on her face and drops of blood on her tank top.

Blayne skated her way through the crowd and threw herself into his arms. Novikov lifted her up, hugging her close.

“You were the best!” Blayne cheered. Crush noticed that the wolfdog seemed to cheer a lot. Was she a cheerleader in high school?

“Did you even see the game?” Novikov asked, his smile still there.

“What does that have to do with anything? You’re always the best.” She hugged the behemoth again and then she spotted Crush. “Hi, Crush!”

Although Crush wasn’t much of a smiler, he couldn’t help himself around her. She was just so damn cheerful. “Hiya, Blayne.”

She smiled, peeking over at Nice Guy, and observed, “I see Malone made it up to you.”

“Yeah, she did.”

Blayne leaned in a bit, her arms still around the Marauder, and whispered loudly enough to be heard ten miles away, “You look so good with your haircut! Isn’t Gwenie the best?”

“Yes, she is.” He motioned to her bruised face. “Fistfight?”

“Nope. Derby training.”

“Looks tough.”

Novikov snorted. “Chicks in shorts. It’s terrifying.”

“Shut. Up.” Blayne looked back at Crush and asked with all sincerity, “And why didn’t you tell me you’re Cella’s boyfriend?”

Even though Crush wasn’t and he was definitely freaked out that the rumor had already spread past the hockey players and, it seemed, throughout the Sports Center, the bear in Crush still had to ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Because we’re friends!”

“We are?”

“Ya are now,” Novikov muttered.

“Of course, we are. I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Please,” Novikov suddenly cut in, “don’t use bear-logic on her. It’s completely ineffectual and brings on tears when she gets frustrated. Just accept she likes you and go about your day.”

“Is that what you do?”

“As her father says, ‘There are always bigger battles ahead.’ ”

“You know,” Blayne snapped, “I am right here listening to both of you.”

Malone walked out of the women’s locker room. She wore grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, her hair and body freshly washed, all her wounds and bruises tended. Crush watched Malone go up on her toes and look over the crowd. When she spotted them, she came over.

“Hey.”

“You did great, baby.” Her father hugged her.

“Thanks, Daddy. You going out now?”

“Just for a few drinks with the boys. Gotta get home to your mom. What about you two?” He smiled. “Big plans?”

“You bet.” She kissed her father on the cheek. “See you later.”

Nice Guy Malone held his hand out and Crush shook it. “It was really nice meeting you, Lou.”

“You, too, sir.”

“Call me Butch.” With a wink at his daughter, Mr. Malone walked off.

Cella kept smiling until her father was in the elevators and gone. Then she faced Crush and said, “So what do you wanna do tonight?”

“Uh—”

“Cella!”

Malone looked over her shoulder and smiled at the tiger male who came to her side. He wasn’t nearly as big as Butch. Crush was guessing he wasn’t Siberian, either.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I was a block up meeting with a client.”

“Lou Crushek,” she said, “this is Brian Carpenter. My daughter’s father.”

Startled, but having trained years not to show it, Crush nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“And before you ask, Bri, I’m not discussing wedding plans with you.”

“Fine. Bachelorette party then.”

“I’m definitely not discussing that with you.”

“No strippers, Cella.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No. Strippers. I mean it. Are we clear?”

“You really just came over here to tell me that?”

“Why else would I come over here? To watch my daughter’s mother get the shit beaten out of her? I can see that during family get-togethers. Now say it with me ... no strippers. Male or female.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

The tiger smiled. “Thanks, beautiful.” He kissed her cheek and gave her a quick hug. “Gotta go.”

“And don’t forget about tomorrow. We gotta come to an agreement about what we’re going to get baby girl for her birthday so they can deliver it by Sunday.”

“I thought we already decided.”

“We did not decide.”

“Maybe I already decided.”

“Really? You wanna go that route with me? Really?”

“You’re being difficult.”

“I’m always difficult. That’s what you love about me.”

“Yeah. Right.”

He walked off and Malone faced Crush. “So, about tonight—”

“I’m going home.”

“Oh.” And she had the nerve to look surprised. “Okay. Well ... I hope you had a good time.”

That Crush couldn’t lie about. “I had a great time. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I hope I get to see you around some time.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Crush walked away from her, heading toward the elevators, and home.

“Man, does that guy run hot and cold.” She faced Novikov and Blayne. “At the very least you’d think he’d want to sleep with the ‘Bare Knuckles’ Malone.”

Shaking her head and throwing her hands up in the air, Blayne let out a big, overdramatic sigh.

“What’s that for?”

Unable to speak—which was amazing for Blayne—she motioned to Novikov.

“What?” Cella pushed.

“You’re really surprised he left?” Novikov asked.

“Yeah. I wore these sweats on purpose—they make my ass look great. I have a beautiful smile—as always. And we had a great game.”