Big Hard Stick (Buffalo Tempest Hockey Book 3) by Sylvia Pierce

Author:Sylvia Pierce [Pierce, Sylvia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-21T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

“Of all the things we’ve done to help a teammate get some ass,” Henny said, “this is definitely the craziest.”

Roscoe clamped a hand around the back of Henny’s neck. “This has nothing to do with getting ass. Say it with me, just so we’re clear.”

“This has nothing to do with getting ass,” Henny parroted.

From his other side, Dunn chimed in. “But if our boy doesn’t get some after this—”

“Seriously?” Roscoe smacked them both. “We’re almost at the door. Pull yourselves together.”

The two of them were laughing their balls off, but Roscoe was nervous as hell. Why the fuck had he brought them along? Ally had asked him for a little moral support with this whole Reggie and Nick thing, and Roscoe had every intention of handling it on his own. But then he’d made the mistake of telling the guys that Nick had asked Reggie out, and of course they pounced.

Roscoe never should’ve opened his big dumb mouth.

Hindsight, man. What a waste.

Roscoe jammed his finger into the bell, shooting a final glare at his boys. Seconds later, Ally opened the door, clearly shocked to find three of the Tempest’s starting lineup standing on her front porch.

“I brought backup,” Roscoe said, running a hand through his hair. “Guess I should’ve called first.”

“No, it’s totally fine!” Ally beamed, and Roscoe blew out a breath. God, she was beautiful. God, he wanted to knock the guys off the porch, scoop Ally up in his arms, and carry her right inside to her bedroom…

“I’m Kyle Henderson,” Henny said, shattering Roscoe’s fantasy. “Henny. And this is Walker Dunn.”

The guys, whose huge frames took up the entire space of the porch, held out their hands to shake.

“Oh, I met your mother, Walker,” Ally said warmly.

Dunn smiled at her. “I heard all about it. She keeps asking when you’ll come around again.”

“Tell her I have to stock up on boinkers first,” Ally said.

At this, Henny snorted. The grown-ass man actually snorted. Roscoe shot him another glare that he hoped conveyed his most intimate thoughts—namely: I’m going to murder you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.

“Ally?” a woman’s voice called out. “Is that LeGrand?”

Roscoe cocked his head. He knew that voice. His balls knew that voice. Like Pavlov’s fucking dog, they shrunk on command.

“Clarissa’s here?” he asked.

“She insisted. Reggie’s first date and all.” Ally wrinkled her nose, opening the door wider and gesturing the men inside, where Clarissa stepped into the foyer with a glass of wine in hand.

“LeGrand, Dunn, and Henderson,” she said. “The three amigos. Fancy meeting you here.”

“More like weird,” Reggie said, stepping into the entryway behind Clarissa. She blinked up at the three beasts at her front door, her eyes going from curious to concerned in a flash. “Oh, no! Did we have something on the calendar today? I didn’t… I’m so sorry. I could get my skates, and—shoot, I should text Nick. I don’t think he—”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Roscoe said, offering a smile. He’d hoped Ally might tell her that he’d be coming by, but apparently she’d wanted the element of surprise.

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