Page 22 of Mother Pucker

I stop, waiting as a handful of cameras flash in an explosion of crisp white light. When they’ve settled down again, several other microphones have materialized in front of my face. The game rumbles over my shoulder, loud and intense.

My pulse kicks and doubles before settling into a steady rhythm. Above our heads, the clock counts down to the end of the game. I take a deep breath and give the cameras a trained smile.

Erik isn’t the only one in the zone tonight.

This is what I do. It’s where I shine. I may not be able to stop a 100-mile-an-hour slap shot or coordinate a successful dump and chase. But what I can do— what I do better than anyone else— is understand social media and publicity. The Snowhawks are my team, too. And just like Erik, I’ll do anything to protect us.

“After all,” I shrug one shoulder before giving Frank and all the other reporters the soundbite they want. “What’s the value in a win if you have to cheat to get it?”

Laughter rumbles through the cluster of journalists and photographers. Then, as if to punctuate my point, the shrill blast of a ref’s whistle grinds the game’s final moments to a halt. The cameras shift in unison, following the Rays’ captain as he’s forcibly ejected for game misconduct.

I grin to myself, watching the scene unfold. Right on time. Light bulb flashes explode around me as the crush of reporters shifts their attention to the display playing out across the ice. The expelled captain isn’t going quietly— his litany of curses and expletives can be heard clearly over the roar of the crowd.

I keep my stance casual, but inside? I’m doing a happy dance. It was a calculated risk that could have gone wrong a dozen different ways. But the Rays can always be counted on to pull at least three questionable moves in a game. They were due another tantrum before the night was over. All I had to do was time my press quote just right and wait for them to play into my hands.

They did.

And the payoff was more than worth the risk. The coach’s box empties in a hurried rush around me as reporters and photographers file out in search of a quote or picture to splash atop the sports page later. Across the ice, Erik pulls his helmet off. He turns toward the coach’s box, scanning the crowd.

I know the moment he spots me. He smiles, and my world stands still. Warmth spreads through my chest, a thick lump of emotion forming in the back of my throat. There are a dozen hockey players, a handful of officials, a box of journalists, and twenty thousand screaming fans between us right.

None of it matters.

This is my smile— the one he saves for me alone. Erik may be the strong and silent type, but that smile tells me everything I need to know. He’s mine, just as much as I belong to him. The fire in his eyes as he skates across the rink toward me says he knows it too.

And just like that, it hits me. For the first time in my life, all of the puzzle pieces are in place. I have a job I love, friends I adore, and a place to call home. And now, I have the man of my dreams, too.

I didn’t need romance in my life to feel complete. But I can’t imagine a life without Erik by my side ever again.

Tomorrow morning, the Snowhawks will be the most popular sports team in America. There will be interviews to schedule and playoffs to prepare for. Tomorrow, Erik’s face will be plastered on front pages across the country. But right now?

Right now belongs to us.

Tonight, Erik and I have each other. And that’s all I’ll ever need again.

“Hell of a game, Nordstrom.” I smile as Erik skates to a stop in front of me. “Good to see you back on top.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up at that.

“Don’t worry,” he leans in to whisper dramatically. “You’ll be back on top as soon as this game is over.”

I snort an indelicate laugh at that. But despite his teasing tone, Erik’s words send a shiver chasing along my spine. It doesn’t matter what’s going on around us, my body always responds to his.

I glance over his shoulder, at the empty ice and screaming crowd beyond.

“Couple more games like this and you’ll be clearing out mantle space for a Stanley Cup.” Pride drips off my every word. “You ready to be on the front page tomorrow?”

Erik looks at me and for once, I’m having trouble reading his placid expression. Then he breaks into a smile, undeniable mischief sparking behind his amber eyes.

“Are you?” He asks with a predatory grin.

Before I can question him, Erik’s big hands have nipped me around the waist. In one smooth motion, he lifts me high enough for my heels to barely skim the ground. My surprised gasp is drowned out by the hum of photographers standing a foot away. There’s no time to think.

Erik’s mouth crushes mine in a passionate kiss that leaves little question as to the nature of our relationship. He smells like sweat and fresh ice— a heady combination that shouldn’t turn me on the way it does. I’m lost in the moment, lost in Erik and the kiss.

Until the shrill sound of a buzzer slices through my hazy thoughts. Reality slams into me as Erik skates off to join his teammates for the last few minutes of the game. My face is still flushed when I turn around—

And a dozen camera flashes go off at once. Microphones are shoved in front of my face as a barrage of questions are volleyed at me. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to answer questions about myself for the cameras. The game roars on behind me as the Snowhawks smash their way to a victory. It doesn’t even matter what the scoreboard says anymore.

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