Page 77 of On the Power Play

Delia took in the glistening ice and all the coloured lines and dots that she now at least had a basic understanding of. The red line that marked centre ice, and was mostly important for icing violations, which she didn't fully understand. The blue lines, which divided the rink into three zones. Defencive, near their own goal, neutral, between the blue and red lines, and offencive, by the other team's net. The face-off circles, which only made her think of Nicolas Cage pulling off his skin, and the goal crease, which was meant to protect the goalie.

She had no idea when any of that knowledge would come in handy during a conversation, but she was damn proud of herself for memorizing it when it wasn't one of her lyrics.

Clara shuffled past the Thompsons and plunked down next to her. "So, how are you enjoying Calgary?"

Delia smiled. "Honestly, I haven't had much time to explore. I was moving in, then working." She thought back to unpacking her things in her bedroom and shivered.

"You'll have to get Jack to take you up the Calgary Tower. There's a nice restaurant up at the top. It's mud season right now, so that means there won't be as many tourists in Banff if you want to take a weekend away."

"Mud season?"

Clara nodded. "When all the snow is beginning to melt. Slushy or icy ski slopes and muddy hiking trails."

"Got it. Do you ski?"

"Yep. You?"

Delia shook her head. "I took a school trip to Blue Mountain, which I'm sure is nothing compared to what you have here. I thoroughly embarrassed myself by not even being able to master the bunny hill." She turned and saw a few smartphones pointed their direction. People were trickling into the arena and had noticed them.

Clara grinned. "How old were you?"

"Old enough to know better than to sign up." Delia had never been the athletic type. Not that she couldn't kill a good interval ride on an exercise bike or pilates or yoga class, but playing team sports? Her personal coordination hell.

Clara sighed. "I didn't say I was good at skiing, by the way. Just that my family forced me to go out at least three times a season, even though it was a long drive. Now Oscar and I choose it."

"You're glad your parents pushed you?"

Clara nodded. "It was like piano lessons. I complained every second, but that only seemed to make my parents dig in deeper. Glad for that skill, too."

"So that's all there is to good parenting? Just force your kids to do everything they try to avoid?"

"Exactly." Clara laughed. When she smiled, she reminded her of Jack. Their lips didn’t rise much above the tops of their teeth, and they both had the same smile lines with the faintest dimple on their right cheeks. She wondered whether Jack’s nose had looked like his sister’s before his hockey career, and lost what she was about to say.

Thankfully, before the silence stretched, they both caught movement on the opposite side of the rink. Players with light-blue jerseys tromped out of a long hallway with their hockey sticks in hand and poured onto the ice through the gate in the boards.

"Time for warm-up!" Clara rubbed her palms together.

Delia barely heard her. A tall, dark, and handsome man with his hands shoved into a black puffy coat, wearing jeans that looked tailored to his frame with dark hair feathering out from under a slate-grey toque, rounded the west end of the boards. He looked up, and the corner of his mouth lifted. Jack.

Chapter Eighteen

Her whole body sang like the quick slide of breath through a harmonica from bottom to top. We should kiss regularly.

Delia’s senses flooded. She’d hoped by building space between them the past two days she’d be more centered around him, but it was the opposite. Like only having a fuzzy tongue after trying peanut butter the first time and then needing a full-on epi pen the second.

She could almost feel his hand cupped around her neck. Smell the subtle, clean scent of his soap. Her body remembered everything she’d tried to push out of her head, and the hairs on her neck stood at attention as Jack strode down the walkway next to their side of the boards.

He grinned up at her again. Was that smile for her or the cameras? The Snowballs were the ones scheduled for ice time, but she and Jack had an equally important game to play. I want you to look smitten. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. The idea of his lips on hers grew like Morning Glory, choking out everything else in her head.

“There he is.” Clara waved at her little brother, and Delia gave her best Oh, I hadn’t noticed expression. Clara lowered her voice as Jack ascended the stairs. “Is it weird? This whole thing?”

Delia exhaled, focusing hard on the players circling the ice. “Yep.” Her lips snapped a little too hard on the end of the word, and she gave an apologetic smile. “Not because of Jack. He’s great. You know what I mean.”

Clara nodded, but her brows creased. “I’ve been worried about him. He’s not—I don’t know if you’ve talked about it, but dating hasn’t been one of his top priorities the past couple of years.”

Delia nodded. “I know about Angie. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She’d done it. Said the thing that made no sense because what else was there to say? She wanted to apologize again, but bit her tongue.

Clara’s shoulders relaxed. “I thought this whole thing might . . . I don’t know. I keep trying to get him to move on.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but Jack was closing in, shuffling down the aisle.

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