and “I’m a goalie. You don’t take my position without being tied to your team. Don’t you ever suggest otherwise.” I was a flirting failure. My idea of a hot conversation was discussing the hockey plays of the day. Even if I did try and flirt with a guy, I could guarantee a handful of the team would come razz me if they spotted me. It was like having a posse of big brothers.Except for the new goalie.I had good reason to dislike Quentin Paris. I just wish I could stop thinking about his too-smooth French accent, those deep blue eyes, those giant shoulders in that hoodie, and the effortless smile that ghosted his lips…First Jimmy, now Alex. Your favorite goaltenders are gone, and this guy is taking over. They were your friends. Paris doesn’t give a damn about you. You aren’t a little sister to me, Audrey. You are every inch a beautiful, funny woman. Audrey Cathcart joked and chatted with my new teammates, always ignoring me. I spent the first few weeks on the team wondering what I could have possibly done to provoke such ire from someone who was described as a “sweet” girl.Until we skated together one morning.Her body language and the light in her eyes as she teased me told me the real story. Resentment was not why Audrey worked so hard to get a rise out of me.And could she get a rise out of me.

Scoreless (Anti-Belle, #4.5) PDF

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