Page 58 of Home Ice

BRANT

I love this so fucking much. We've only got one goal so far, but the way I'm playing it's all we need. There are times when I swear I can see everything. When I know exactly when the shot is coming and where it's coming from. Tonight is one of those nights. There are still four minutes left in the third period, and the other team has already pulled their goalie. Doing it this early is a pure desperation move. They hope that having the extra skater on the ice will give them a way to crack through the wall I've set up. It won't.

Sometimes seeing that other goalie sprint to the bench sends a surge of adrenaline through me, and I have to focus on my breathing to keep myself calm. But that's not tonight. Tonight they could have seven skaters out here, and it wouldn't make a difference. Clog the space in front of the net. Get all the deflections you want. I see them almost before they even happen. It's a frantic four minutes. Our defense breaks down twice, and it seems like the other team gets at least ten shots on goal. But it doesn't matter.

The closest they get is when their forward whips a wrister to my left. There are two players in front of me. Normally, I wouldn't be able to see that puck until it's too late. But tonight I know. I throw my glove up and snag it right before it crosses the line. My line. The shooter's eyes are wide when he takes the shot. He knows it's going in and sending us to overtime. On any other night, it might. When I catch the puck, it's like his face melts from the disappointment. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. No. The second most beautiful thing. The first is waiting in the dressing room, when I wish she was out here behind the bench. Or along the boards behind me, wearing a jersey with my name on her back.

But I'm lucky if she even says three words to me in public now.

I thought inviting her to spend the evening with the team would help her relax. She saw firsthand that none of the boys would ever say anything about us. But that backfired. Her panic the morning after was cute. I grinned every time she made that adorable gasp after remembering yet another embarrassing thing she did in front of the team. But nothing topped her look of horror when I told her she licked my face while everyone was watching. It was hilarious. Until she stormed out of my house before I even had the chance to make breakfast for her. Before I told her what I had planned for us later that morning.

I know she just needs time to process everything and realize our secret is safe, but fuck if she didn't have me checking my phone every ten minutes all damn week. Last night, I texted and told her that she would spend Friday night with me even if I had to break into her house and kidnap her. That finally got a response. Barely.

When the horn sounds at the end of the game, the yellow arena lights strobe in celebration, and my teammates line up in front of my net to congratulate me on my shutout. But the only thing I'm thinking about is Lily. I already know she won't say a word to me in the dressing room, but it's going to be a different story tonight at my house. The sooner I get out of these pads and get showered, the sooner I get to see her there.

But of course, tonight is the night Coach decides to talk to us after the game. And not just a quick "good job." No, he has us all sit in the dressing room while he walks through every mistake we made in the game and tells us that Denver will kick our asses if we make those same mistakes against them tomorrow. Like we don't already know it. We only have six back-to-back games in the regular season, and our first is against our biggest rival. And this year, they're just one point behind us in the standings.

No matter when we play them, our games against Denver are always physical. They take every chance they can to slam us into the boards, even if it's after the whistle. Some old-school players might respect that, but not me. That's the kind of garbage you pull when you don't think you can win by playing the game the right way. And the chief instigator always seems to be Asher Sorenson. From the first time he put a blade on the ice, he's thought he's better than everyone else. I wouldn't be surprised if he had his hall of fame speech written before he scored his first goal. But a year and a half ago, that bad blood went to a new level.

It wasn't even a month after dumping me that Serenity was photographed hanging all over him on the sidelines of a basketball game. Fine. That's on her, not him. But the text he sent me afterward telling me Serenity decided to be with a man who could finally satisfy her? That was all him. We're scheduled to play them three times this season, and I'm going to make sure we hand their asses to them each time.

Coach closes his impromptu meeting by announcing that I'm in the net tomorrow since I'm so hot I could turn the rink into a sauna. But I would have made sure to be on the ice against Denver, no matter what. It was never a question in my mind. The only thing I'm wondering about is how many saves I'll have. I know Milo has to be disappointed, but he's the first to slap me on the back.

I hurry through my shower and breeze through the postgame interviews, barely paying attention to the questions. I don't even look at the reporters. My eyes are on the training room. Lily is still inside, so I know there's no rush. But the way my gut is twisting, I might have to go to the hospital if I don't get out of here soon. Thankfully, the last reporter senses I want to get out of here. His only question is if he can have the exclusive when I go public with whoever it is I'm in such a hurry to see. I laugh it off, but he just winks and tells me to go. I make sure I'm gone before he decides to ask a follow-up.

CHAPTER 39

THERE ARE THINGS I COULD EAT

LILY

I know it's silly to avoid Brant here at work. The team already knows. Oh God, do they know. But that's what makes this so awkward. I was so scared to show anything in front of them that I went overboard once I finally knew I could trust them. The beers didn't help either. I should have never done half the things I did at the cookout. Seriously? Treating Brant's face like a popsicle as he carried me into the house? If I could have called off sick for the rest of the season, I would have done it.

The guys have been wonderful though. Not one of them has said a word about that night. They've all been even sweeter than normal. So sweet it made me suspicious at first. I don't usually trust people who are too nice, but after a few days without a single comment or a laugh behind my back, I relaxed. Until tonight.

I should have never ignored Brant. He didn't do anything to deserve that, but I was just so freaked out about what I did. Tonight is the night I show him how sorry I am. Just as soon as I can get out of here. I power down the ultrasound machine, put away the massage guns, and record my notes about Nikita's injury from the puck he took to the forearm in the final period. Luckily, there's no damage. It's just going to be sore for a couple of days. And then I'm out the door to pick up Silver and go to Brant's house. When I get to the staff parking lot, I see his SUV is already gone. He must be looking forward to tonight even more than I am.

When I get there, the front door is open a crack. I push it open and drop Silver's leash once we're inside. "You know, you could just leave the door unlocked. It would accomplish the same thing."

"But then you might knock, and I wouldn't get to make my dramatic entrance," he answers from somewhere near the kitchen.

"What dramatic—Oh." He walks around the corner, wearing nothing but an apron. A very small apron that does very little to hide his muscular chest and not much more to hide his lower bits.

Silver trots up to Brant, expecting pets and treats, completely oblivious to the fact that the hottest man in Utah is standing almost naked in front of us. Brant pulls a few small treats from his apron pocket and then bends over to rub behind the giant softie's ears. The way Silver's eyes roll back at the touch, it's like he's in paradise. If I take just a few more steps to my left, I'll get the perfect view under that apron and join him in heaven.

Brant shifts to the side as I walk. "I know what you're trying to do, but there will be none of that until after dinner, young lady."

"You honestly expect me to not even peek a little while you march around here practically naked?"

"Yes. Now have a seat at the dining room table, and I'll be right out with the first course." He turns, showing me his very naked, very exquisite backside. Holy lord, I have never seen anything so perfect. A perfect upper body forming the perfect V down to his perfect ass perched on those perfect thighs. Those thighs. He slaps his ass and gives me a quick look over his shoulder before he disappears into the kitchen, and I'm not sure I can make it the ten steps to the table without dissolving from lust.

By the time I drop onto the chair, I'm panting. I won’t make it through this night. Before I can catch my breath, Brant walks toward me carrying an upside down cake pan. Silver is dancing around his feet, not taking his eyes off that pan. I'm not taking my eyes off the way that apron swings with each step.

"I don't have one of those fancy silver lid things, so I had to make do," he says as he sets… whatever this is in front of me. I reluctantly shift my focus.

"A cloche?"

"I don't even know what it's called, so I'll trust you. Anyway, I hope you're ready for the culinary experience of a lifetime."

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