Page 63 of Pucking Revenge

Brooks grits his teeth, his jaw going rigid, but he doesn’t dare fight Seb. Even as Gavin looks back and forth between the men, wearing a confused frown.

Once he’s tugged his helmet off, Brooks drops his stick to the ice and follows it down.

As he begins his count, women on the other side of the glass hoot and holler, and by the time he hits twenty, a crowd has formed.

Brooks pauses then and lifts his chin and hits me with a grin. “Hop on, Pumpkin. I could use a more challenging workout.”

Without hesitation, I throw a leg over the boards. Seb grasps my elbow but releases it quickly when Gavin pulls him back. “Let her be. The crowd is going to eat this up.”

Cheeks heating at all the attention, I settle my ass on my man’s back. “You sure about this, thirteen?”

He chuckles, glancing at me over his shoulder. “If it means getting close to that ass, then absolutely.”

Laughter rolls through me as he takes me up and down, all while Seb stews behind his iPad. After twenty push-ups, he snaps up straight and storms away.

Daniel and Tyler skate circles around us, spinning and dancing with one another like figure skaters, making the scene even more ridiculous. The crowd is almost deafening as they count along with Brooks.

When we reach one hundred, Tyler stops in front of me and offers me a hand. I take it and let him haul me to my feet. Once I’m steady on the ice, he skates backward, dipping his hand as if he’s my knight in a shining hockey uniform, and then Brooks hops up with ease, like he isn’t covered in a thick layer of pads and wearing knives on his feet.

“Thanks, Pumpkin.” Brooks hauls me into his arms and I lace my fingers around his neck, wrapping my legs around his hips. It’s a challenge because of his bulky goalie uniform, but I make it work and hold on for dear life as he skates in a circle, then beelines for the boards. Once he’s deposited me beside Lennox, he pulls back and winks. “Enjoy the game.”

“Get me that shutout,” I taunt, blowing him a kiss.

Then he’s gone, skating back to where he left his stick and helmet. He scoops them up and continues on in the direction of the goalie coach, who’s waiting for him at the net.

“Holy shit. That was hot,” Lennox says beside me.

“Agreed,” I murmur, still focused on my fake boyfriend. After that interaction, I don’t ever want to look away.

Aiden skates by then, and beside me, Lennox straightens. A wide smile takes over her face, and she waves. The happy-go-lucky brother of my fake boyfriend, a man I’ve never seen so much as frown, is like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he barrels into the glass with his arms and legs spread like a starfish.

The arena erupts in sharp gasps and shouts. Gavin is up and over the boards in seconds, followed by the team’s medical staff.

Holding my breath, I look from Lennox, who’s covering her mouth with one hand, to the ice, where Aiden is sprawled out flat on his back and being tended to. When he’s finally on his feet with his hands out in front of him, as if assuring the small group surrounding him that he’s fine and they should back off, I finally breathe.

“Holy shit. You literally took that man’s breath away.”

Lennox is silent. No quippy comeback or sassy of course I did.

I’ve never seen her so out of it. Nervous, I cling to her hand and squeeze. “He’s okay, babe. The guys get slammed into the glass all the time.”

She nods woodenly. “Yeah, it’s just…” She licks her lips and follows his every move. “It’s been a while.”

She isn’t talking about how long it’s been since she’s seen a hockey game. No, those simple words have a different meaning entirely. Eventually, she’ll tell me. And I have a feeling this is only the beginning.

“Holy shit, I think they’re gonna get a?—”

I slap a hand over Lennox’s mouth, and every one of the women in the box with us hisses.

If there’s one rule in hockey, it’s that you don’t mention the shutout before it’s happened. Hockey players aren’t the only people who are superstitious about the game.

There are two minutes left in the final period, and as Lennox almost pointed out, Brooks hasn’t let a single goal in. I broke out in a cold sweat on our way to the WAG box tonight. Before now, I’ve only ever dealt with these women when there were PR issues or in passing at family events. Our interactions have never been anything but cordial, but they’ve been few and far between and surface level. Tonight, I’ve spent hours surrounded by them, and the idea that they might not accept me as one of them makes nausea roll in my stomach.

Not that I truly am one of them, but still, I want them to like me.

It’s a silly personality flaw of mine. I want to be liked.

“And that’s what we call a hat trick.” McGreevey’s daughter Emma Cate sits up straight a few seats down as the crowd goes wild.

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