Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,64

in such a foul mood that I hadn’t paid attention. I’d have to make a run to a store in Montreal. Curling my lip, I put the dirty pair back on and slid my feet into a pair of Van’s.

We headed out of the room after we did one last once-over for anything we might’ve left behind. As we wheeled our bags down the hall, several doors opened. Our teammates were pouring out to get on the bus too. Some of them looked rough as hell. Probably not much worse than I did when I got back to the room.

Dmitry glared at me as he got on the elevator. Those of us that had exited our rooms, crammed on together. That many NHL hockey players might be over the weight limit, but none of us cared.

“You mad at me too?” I asked over my shoulder to Dmitry. He gave a noncommittal grunt. I rolled my eyes.

When we dropped into our seats after stowing our bags, Dmitry and Jericho sat in the seats across the aisle. He ignored me until everyone was loaded up. Mikhail and Jordan sat behind us. Kris and Nate sat behind them. Kris reached over and gave me a fist bump in greeting.

Laying my pounding head back on the headrest, I really didn’t care if Dmitry wanted to be a dick. The Tylenol hadn’t done much for my headache and my cheek. I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.

Once the bus pulled away from the curb, Dmitry leaned across the aisle. I cracked an eye to glance at him.

“You are a fucking asshole,” he quietly ground out.

Both eyes popped open, and I glanced around to see if he was talking to someone else. Everyone around us had earbuds or headphones on.

“Me?” I asked, giving him a questioning curl of my lip.

“Yeah, you. You wanna be a playboy man-ho, go for it, but don’t do it when you’re acting like you’re in a committed relationship. I never thought you’d stoop so fucking low,” he growled before he shoved his earbuds in angrily and turned his attention away.

No way was he gonna say some shit like that and not let me defend myself. I tapped him. Scowling, he ripped out an earbud. “What?”

“I’m not sure who put you in charge of my personal life, but I didn’t do anything wrong,” I snarked.

“Really. Then tell me why your girl’s sister called me ranting about you and some chick making out last night? I guess they’re viral and Crimson saw them. Then you didn’t come back to the hotel? That was really fucked-up.” He raised a brow as he waited for my reply.

Shooting him a narrow-eyed glare, I took a deep breath to calm the quickly rising anger. It was getting old, defending myself. I was a grown-ass fucking man.

“Well, maybe you should tell your girl to talk to her sister, because she fucking shitcanned me after the bar Tuesday night,” I snarled. He had the nerve to look shocked.

“I can promise you, Crimson thought you were still together. Man, I’m sorry, I really didn’t know.” He appeared appropriately chastised. “And she’s not my girl. We just hook up.”

“Not that it’s your business, but I didn’t do anything. The chick said she knew me from school, wanted a pic, I posed for it, and she jumped in my fucking lap and kissed me. It pissed me off,” I told him.

“Look, you’re right, you don’t owe me an explanation. And I had no idea you two weren’t together. You didn’t say anything. But you not coming back to the hotel last night? Dude. That was moving on pretty fucking quick. But you do you.” He put his earbud back in and ended the conversation.

Still pissed, I opened up my social media accounts to see what he was talking about. I remembered the pics being taken but I didn’t know what they looked like. I honestly hadn’t cared to see them.

They looked bad. Not even close to what really happened. Looking through each image, though they looked incriminating to my behavior, I couldn’t see anywhere where she said we spent the night together. She did say I was her man, but hell, a lot of women liked to refer to us as their boyfriends and shit like that.

A text popped up as I was looking at the pics. I closed the bullshit pics and opened it.

Regi: Yeah, one of your hookups called. I got rid of her for you.

Me: Fuck. What did you