Page 7 of Boarded Hearts

My idiocy is clearly not lost on her when she snorts, making it sound way cuter than a snort ever should. “Nah, I was just taking my dog for a walk.”

Ah, so it's like that—feisty, sarcastic, and witty…

Wait, is that a British accent? Sure as shit doesn't sound American to me. I playfully smile and narrow my eyes at her as she uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other, thumbing over her shoulder.

“So yeah, I need to grab these tickets before I miss my ride home, but thanks for picking me up off the uh...floor.”

I stand waiting for her to finish up, desperate to hear what she's ordering, so I can work out when I'll see her again. Are the tickets for her? Damn, I never thought they might not be. Karen, who works the stand,keeps her voice hushed as she hands the mystery woman an envelope before peeking to the left and spotting me.

“Mr. Morgan, what are you doing here? This is a public access area you know.”

Yes,Karen,thank you for reminding me. “Yeah, I just need to grab the tickets for my parents and brother for the opener. Should be in the back. Chrissie said she'd put some to the side.”

Karen stiffly nods and turns on her heel, heading in search of the tickets.

Standing at the booth, I glance to my left to see my emerald angel, hovering as she puts the envelope in her bag and inspects her phone, which thankfully looks like it's survived our incident unscathed.

Still, I can’t help the next words that leave my mouth. “Does it need testing?” I point at her phone, a playful smile back on my lips.

Her head whips up, pinning me with those intense eyes once again. “Testing?" she replies in confusion.

Seizing my opportunity, I reply. “Yeah, I can test it for you. Text you to make sure it's not damaged, give you a call maybe.” I know it’s a cheesy pick-up line, but apparently, I’m all sorts of crazy around this girl. Once she walks out those doors, I’ll likely never see her again, which cuts me with a foreign sense of unease.

“But how would you…” At the realization, her eyes shoot to mine and instead of a playful look in them, they fucking roll. An unimpressed expression is written right across her pretty face. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman roll her eyes at me, especially when I’m making a play for them. Damn, is my game slipping?

“Ha!” she scoffs. “Yeah I don’t give my number out to strangers, but top marks for effort, hun.”

This time, I’m flushing. It’s safe to say I’ve crashed and burned.

Wait. Strangers?

She doesn’t recognize me. Well, shit. She’s clearly not a hockey fan which means those tickets are even less likely to be for her. Yeah, I’ve well and truly blown this.

I open my mouth to try and save what’s left of my dignity right as Karen returns. “Here you go, Mr. Morgan. I have three box tickets for you for next Saturday.” She pauses. “You do know players don't need to collect tickets, don't you? I could have these sent directly to security.”

Well, if she didn’t know before, she sure as shit does now.

I grab the envelope and stuff it in my pocket before glancing up to find my newfound obsession slack-jawed and slowly backing away. She clearly heard my exchange with Karen as the rosy tint previously painting the apple of her cheeks has returned.

I open my mouth to say something, anything.

But it’s too late. She lifts her left hand and supplies me with something close to an awkward British royal wave and then she’s gone, out the double doors and probably from my life forever.

CHAPTER FOUR

FELICITY

Jack is poised on the edge of my sofa, staring down at the open envelope.

For several beats he says nothing, simply studies the tickets before him. It finally seems to sink in when a whopping smile spreads across his face, mirroring mine. Suddenly he launches himself toward me, arms outstretched as he lifts me into the biggest bear hug. For a moment, he forgets it’s not cool for an eighteen-year-old to hug his mum and dance around like an excitable puppy, and just as quickly, he’s setting me back down on my feet before clearing his throat. “These are awesome Mum, and the seats, they are immense.”

“You’re welcome, honey; I’m glad you like them.”

Jack reverts to giddy mode. “Like them? Zach Evans up close and watching the hockey genius Jon Morgan at work…Yeah, I like them.”

My stomach clenches at that name.

Before I can stop myself, my brain seizes a chance to inquire further about the man who not so-subtly asked me for my number a couple of weeks ago. After all, I can pass this off as pre-season research. “So, why is this Jon Morgan a ‘hockey genius’?”

---