Risky Business by Melissa Cutler Page A

to perform as well as professional, full-grown men.
    Every game had taken on more significance now that Wounded Veterans International was watching. They still hadn’t heard whether they’d been selected to play in the exhibition game, which wasn’t a surprise, but it didn’t ease the tension in the locker room any, thinking that their every play might sway the scouts’ opinion. As far as any of the guys knew, there weren’t any scouts at tonight’s game, but that didn’t mean word wouldn’t get back to them if Bomb Squad ended their season-long winning streak with a spectacular loss.
    It used to be, Theo thrived on the pressure of keeping up a streak, whether it be of the scoring, winning, or body checking variety. But now, with Brandon and the others counting on him to help make their whole team an inspiration to combat-wounded vets all over the world, the pressure took him back to being sixteen. It took him back to the way his parents looked in the stands at every game, like their lives depended on his next goal, on the approval of the Major Junior League scouts sitting in the stands. Which, in their eyes, their lives and futures very much had.
    That old, familiar frustration settled in his chest—at the position that he’d landed himself in, despite his best efforts, and that he kept finding himself in, despite years of fighting to cut the chains pulling on him by people who expected him to be their salvation.
    He fisted his hands, thinking about how his parents used to pray in the bleachers that God would help Theo get noticed by the scouts and sponsors, and save them from losing their house. Like a sixteen-year-old boy could thrive with that kind of responsibility on his shoulders.
    Allison Whitley wasn’t going to last the season as Cloud Nine’s owner without his aid. She was absolutely fucking helpless, but the more he attempted to illustrate that to her, the more stubborn she got in her commitment not to do the right thing and sell the landing to him.
    Oscar thought he had a decent case for a lawsuit, but needed to do some discreet research into Allison and Lowell’s divorce settlement. Theo loathed the idea of blindsiding her with a lawsuit—it felt like a petty, chicken-shit move—but she’d left him with no choice. Thinking about her refusal to sell even Lanette, juxtaposed with the help she expected Theo to give her, tightened his chest even more. He embraced the ire, growing it inside himself, knowing it’d make him invincible on the ice if he could keep the feeling alive.
    He knocked his skate against the base of his locker and stood, more pissed off by the second. No doubt about it, he was going to have the game of his life tonight.
    He was slugged in the shoulder and turned to see Liam, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Your boss lady’s here.”
    Goddamn it. Theo wasn’t sure what pissed him off more, the reminder that Allison was the person signing his paychecks or that she was butting her nose into his personal life against his express wishes. That half the men in the locker room were looking his way, grinning, didn’t help.
    He shrugged, feigning indifference, and turned to face his locker, grabbing his gloves.
    Will appeared at his side, leaning his shoulder into the next locker over. “Think this’ll be part of your performance review?”
    Behind him, he recognized Brandon’s snicker over a sudden rush of blood in his ears. “I think I’d like her to give me a performance review.”
    â€œShe’s a hot piece of ass,” someone across the room added, loud enough for Theo to hear, but not so much that he could tell who it was.
    Oh, hell, no
. Theo dropped his gloves to the ground and took a slow turn around, leveling what he hoped was a searing glare at every man in the room. Especially Liam, Will, and Brandon, for kicking off the conversation and refusing to let it die. What he