Cody“What the fuck, man.” I’m not impressed. Atlas is standing in front of me, his bare chest on full display. We’ve just come off the ice and the game was hard, the opposition almost kicked our asses but I managed to score in the last two minutes. Way. To. Go, me.“Don’t be like that, Cody.” Atlas starts drying himself off and pulls on his boxer shorts. Good, because I sure don’t like having a conversation with a man with his tackle on display. “You need someone in to help keep your place in condition and to cook for you. It’s Imogen or someone you don’t know that will be assigned you.”FFS, I don’t need anyone around my place fluffing up damn pillows, cleaning and taking care of me. I’m a frigging adult already. I’m twenty-four, a centre player for the best ice-hockey team here in Minnesota and definitely not someone who needs a wet nurse.“Imogen is just a kid, man. The last time I saw her she had pigtails still.” Okay, maybe she didn’t but that’s how I’ll always remember her. The
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