Page 11 of Boarded Hearts

I scoff, “Yeah, because my excessive salary and monthly clothing budget definitely stretch to high-end designer shoes.”

Kate looks stunning in a red halter dress and black ankle strap heels; her blonde hair is wavy and falls around her shoulders.

The ride to our first bar is a short five-minute drive, but I can already feel the weight of Kate’s intrigue. I brace for impact.

“Okay, I can’t wait any longer. Spill.”

I turn to her in the back seat. “Spill what?”

“Don’t deny me the tea, babe, tell me!”

I chew nervously on the side of my thumb. “Honestly, there’s nothing to tell. He saw the birthday message on the jumbotron, and when they came out for the third period, he skated over to wish Jack a happy birthday. It was sweet.”

“Except even from the angle on the TV, I could tell he wasn’t looking at Jack. He was one hundred percent eye-fucking you.”

I puff out a disbelieving breath. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“Well, yeah, you wouldn’t have noticed, since you kept your head down the entire time.”

I’m not surprised Kate saw the footage. She’s an avid Scorpions fan. What she doesn’t know about the team and players you could write on the back of a postage stamp.

“Yeah, well, he’s a playboy. I’m sure he does that with every fan.”

“Yes, he’s the biggest man-whore ever. But I’ve never seen him, or any other player, do that. Like, ever.”

I wave a dismissive hand in front of my face. “You’re making something out of nothing.”

We pull up outside the new cocktail bar Kate wanted to try. It’s packed with barely any space at the bar, but we find a gap in the bodies and squeeze our way in. I order my number one cocktail, a Cosmo, and Kate tries the mojito.

“Oh my god, that’s sooo good.” My best friend throws her head back. “I needed this after the week at work I’ve had.”

“Tell me about it,” I agree.

We find a spare high-top table surrounded by stools and take a seat.

“He’s supposed to be amazing in bed, you know.”

I almost spray my cocktail across the table. “I’m sure he is. Sounds like he’s had enough practice.”

“Oh, he definitely has.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Wait, you know someone who’s been with him?”

She eyes me over the rim of her glass. “Not exactly, no. But there are plenty of women who have, and they say he goes all night.”

“Does he, really?” I reply in a semi-sarcastic tone.

“I can’t believe you’re not even the least bit curious.”

Oh, I’m curious. But I’m not about to have my face plastered across social media and labeled as a puck bunny.

“We bumped into each other when I went to collect Jack’s tickets. We sent each other flying across the corridor, and I almost broke my phone. I think he kind of feels bad about it.”

“Ohmygod. So, you didn’t think to tell me that you’ve had physical contact with him?”

“No, Kate, I didn’t. It was like a three-minute interaction.”

“Three minutes! What did you say?”

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