“Of course, no problem.” His eyes drop to take in the one I’m wearing. “Something wrong?”
“Nah. Just want to give it to a kid that couldn’t get one of mine from the gift shop.”
He nods in understanding. “Stop being so popular, Kelly.”
“Yeah, right. That store is basically a shrine to Jack.”
Lewis laughs it off, but he knows I’m not wrong.
I pull off my jersey, then run a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. Feminine squeals catch me off guard. Mr. Popular himself comes to a stop next to me.
“Seriously, Kelly?” Jack shakes his head. His slicked black hair doesn’t budge. “Ten minutes into the season and you’re already taking your shirt off for the ladies?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I set my jersey on the top of the half-wall in front of the bench and scribble my name. “It’s for a little girl. She gave me a friendship bracelet.”
He quirks a brow. “A friendship bracelet?”
“Yep. I’m her favorite.”
“One out of twenty thousand isn’t so bad, Kelly.”
Fucker. I leave him to skate back over to the girl. She’s surprised to see me, but as soon as she realizes I’m giving her my jersey, she starts bouncing in place again.
Her dad thanks me about a dozen times, but her excitement is all I need. I’d play hockey for free with no one watching, but damn if this isn’t so much better.
“Enjoy the game,” I tell them.
More women are squealing and calling out for me. I have on pads, but without my jersey, my abs are on display. I wink at a brunette screaming so loud that I worry for the eardrums of the people around her.
Jack is still stretching near the bench and he gives me that same disapproving headshake as I approach. “Show off.”
Lewis tosses me a jersey and I pull it on to a chorus of disappointed boos. Time is ticking down for warmup, so I head back out to hit a few more pucks and get ready for the game. It’s then that a blonde on the other side of the arena catches my eye. Possibly it’s because she’s one of the few women not looking my way.
Her long hair is curly and falls over her shoulders. She stares ahead with a blank expression, watching the ice but not really seeing it. The guy next to her has his nose buried in his phone. Lots of couples come to games together, but if a guy is ignoring his date at a hockey game, it’s usually because he’s enthralled with the action on the ice, not his phone. Especially a girl that looks like her.
I glide around our half of the ice with a puck, but my gaze keeps going back to the blonde. She and her date sit at center ice a few rows up. For reasons I can’t imagine, he’s not at all interested in talking to the woman next to him. He gets up and walks up the stairs, stopping a few rows higher to talk to someone.
My skates take me to her before I’ve even decided to approach. I stop hard in front of her, spraying ice. She finally looks at me. My pulse goes into overdrive as our eyes lock. I can’t tell what color her eyes are from here, but I’m struck with this overwhelming desire that I want to find out. I want to move closer and memorize every inch of her face.
A small smile curves her lips and her left brow quirks up in an expression I can only describe as tempting. I stand dumbstruck eight feet away. It’s when she glances over her shoulder and checks to see if her date is paying attention that I finally snap out of it. (He isn’t, for the record. Idiot.)
I flip the puck up with my stick and catch it.
“You want a puck?” I ask, knowing full well it might look or sound like I asked her something else. I’d also be down for that. This girl is even more gorgeous the longer I look at her. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a black sweater. Casual but still striking. All that blonde hair. I want to wrap it around my fingers and tug.
She barely moves her head, but the no is clear from the tiny shake. Her rejection shouldn’t sting; it’s a stupid puck for fuck’s sake, but I want her to have it. People around her are starting to notice I’m giving away a puck and start clamoring for it. I point to her, making my intentions clear, and then toss it over. A guy in the front catches it and (reluctantly) passes it to her.
“If you don’t want to keep it, you could write your number on it and throw it back,” I suggest, raising my voice to be heard over the noise.
A faint blush paints her cheeks, and her lips pull higher. She has a great smile. Perfect full lips and dimples.
“I’ll give you my number,” some guy yells at me and the people around him laugh.
“Thanks for the offer,” I say, not taking my eyes off her. “She’s prettier though.”
She sits a little straighter, cradling the puck in both hands.
“What do you say?”
Still silent, she runs her fingers over the black disc in her hands. Her fingers are adorned in gold rings, but the important finger is empty. “I don’t think so.”
“Is that your boyfriend?” I ask and tip my head toward the guy that was sitting next to her. He’s still chatting away with someone a few rows up like the hottest girl I’ve ever seen isn’t waiting for him.
“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, skating around?” Her stare lifts over my head to my teammates warming up behind me.
“Can’t. I just met my future wife and I need to know if she’s single.”
I can’t hear it, but her body language tells me she laughs quietly. “Yes.”
“Yes, you’re single?”
“No. I meant, yes, that’s my boyfriend.”
Damn. But not a total bust. People break up all the time. And he’s clearly not the guy for her. If she were mine, I’d never take my eyes off her.
Her date finally looks back down at her, notices her attention has been captured and then scowls toward the ice. When he finds me standing in front of his girl, he takes a step toward her possessively. I can hardly blame him. I’d fight me for her too.
Maybe I crossed a line hitting on his girl, but I regret nothing. Skating away is physically painful, but I don’t want to cause a scene and the game is about to start. I chance one more look at her. A rush of pleasure jolts up my spine when I find her eyes on me. With one last smile, I head to the bench. Time to go to work.
“To the start of a great season!” Declan raises his glass.
“This is the year,” Leo adds as he does the same.
“To shutouts.” Tyler grins smugly.
Each one of us says something along the same lines, flying high after winning our first game, and then we slam back our drinks. The first of many to come, judging by the atmosphere tonight.
Wild’s, the closest bar to the arena and unofficial team hangout after games, is packed, and it’s still early. I had to push my way through. Luckily, they always hold a couple of tables for us on home game nights in case we stop by.