Page 64 of Pucking Revenge

Moments ago, War was skating down the ice at lightning speed, keeping tight control of the puck. Florida’s defensemen charged after him, and like the moves were choreographed, War scooped up the puck and launched it to Aiden. Without missing a beat, he slammed into the defensemen, laying him out, then immediately blocked the other defensemen, all without slowing, so that Aiden had a clear shot. The move was so fluid the goalie had no hope of stopping the goal.

Leaning forward, I plant my elbows on my knees and look past Emma Cate’s mom to where she’s sitting. “The toss is the hat trick?”

Her little sister Riley shakes her head. “No. Three goals by the Leprechaun.”

Lennox’s laugh is bubbly. “I can’t believe they still call him that.”

McGreevey’s wife, Becca, smiles over her shoulder at us. “He’s certainly Boston’s lucky charm.”

With a soft hum, Lennox keeps her attention locked on Aiden. He’s currently taking his victory lap.

“There’s still another minute,” Emma Cate reminds me.

I bite my thumb and will my nerves to settle. Am I that obvious? The women surrounding me figured out real quick that I didn’t know all that much about the game. When my secret was out, they were nothing but kind, rather than judgmental like I’d expected. From that moment, the girls jumped in to describe the intricacies of each play using terms an average person like me can actually understand. Coulda used them when I started this job.

Florida is flying down the ice in front of us. The urge to close my eyes before their player takes the shot is almost overpowering.

I have no idea how Brooks stays so calm under the pressure when he’s tasked with keeping that tiny puck from making its way into that huge net, all while men with sticks and sharp objects strapped to their feet fly at him from all directions.

Parker and McGreevey are both defending the net, but Florida’s center dodges them left and right until he’s charging toward Brooks. McGreevey goes for the puck but misses. Then it’s Parker’s turn to try. But the center pushes Parker into Brooks, and they both go down, leaving space for the puck to soar past them and into the back of the net.

The smaller Florida crowd loses it, cheering and clapping and stomping like mad, and the goal is added to the score.

“That’s bullshit!” I scream along with the crowd, my blood pressure skyrocketing. “Hey, ref. Where’s the call?”

Brooks gets up on his skates, and like he can hear me, his head snaps in my direction. Then he points at me, heaves his shoulders up and lets them fall in an exaggerated shrug.

“Sar, look.” Lennox slaps my arm, and when I turn, she’s pointing to the Jumbotron hanging over the rink. The screen is split in two, and on one side, the camera is focused in on Brooks, who’s still turned toward me. My image is plastered on the other side. My face goes so hot, my flush is visible on the screen.

I bite my lip and tip my chin, but quickly look back up and own it. Sliding to the edge of my seat, I blow Brooks a kiss and give him a broad smile. “You did great, thirteen!” I holler. “The refs are blind!”

“Oh my God. You guys are so adorable,” Becca says. She leans closer and grasps my wrist. Then she peers over her shoulder at her daughters. When she turns back to me, she tips in even farther. “Have you surprised him in nothing but the jersey yet?”

My heart stutters in my chest. “Um, no. Is that a thing?”

She nods and swats the leg of the woman sitting directly behind her. “Sara is asking if the jersey with nothing else is a thing.”

Lennox smirks. “I remember those days.”

I nudge her, my interest totally piqued. “If the way Aiden slammed into the glass when he saw you is anything to go by, then he remembers them too.”

She throws her head back and laughs. Down near the team, she went rigid beside me, but in the last couple of hours, she’s loosened up. This Lennox is the woman I know inside and out.

“You coming out tonight?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

The Bolts win the game four to one. Despite narrowly missing the shutout, I’m excited to see Brooks. Maybe a little too excited.

Last night was probably a fluke, a one-time insane situation that he has no plans to repeat. Yet butterflies flutter violently in my belly as Lennox and I make our way toward the team room. This sensation isn’t lust, even if I wish it were. No, what’s happening inside me, low in my core and behind my ribs, is something I’ve never felt. While a stream of nerves runs through my veins, it’s overpowered by the lightness and excitement powering through me at just the thought of seeing Brooks. Of imagining the sheepish smile he’ll give me.

Our reunion will have to wait, because now that the game is over, I have work to do. I leave Lennox with McGreevey’s wife in the team room, then head toward the door so I can ensure the guys make it over to where the press is waiting.

I’m halfway across the space when Jill barrels into the room, a whirlwind of drama, her blond hair swinging, all caked-on makeup and too-tight clothing. “Oh my God. Where’s Aiden?”

As Aiden’s longtime girlfriend, I would expect her to know that after a game, he heads straight to the locker room to shower, then over to talk to the press. It will be a while before he’s here.

Resigned to dealing with her since I seem to be the only staff member nearby, I approach. “Need something, Jill?”

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