Page 46 of Chasing the Puck

Today’s a perfect day to appreciate it. The sun is shining bright in the blue sky, and it’s not even that cold.

I roll to a stop in the parking garage of the Baron Hotel right downtown.

The ride over was smooth and relaxing. I just jammed to music and let my head clear. It’s early afternoon and the gala doesn’t start until five, so I have a couple hours to just lounge in the room that Brumehill booked for me before I have to change into my dress.

I’m kind of looking forward to it, because the dress is fantastic. These colleges must really want to make a strong impression at this event, because Brumehill gave me a voucher to rent a gorgeous dress from a high-end boutique in Cedar Shade.

I look incredible in it. Maybe there’ll be a hot grad student from another school here to flirt with. I’m not in the mood for a hookup or anything, but I wouldn’t mind a cute guy giving me a fluttery feeling or two and an ego boost.

Dragging my small roller suitcase behind me, I cross the walkway that connects the parking garage to the main hotel. There’s a line for the check-in desk. Not a surprise, I guess, with so many people coming for this NECA gala.

As I approach the back of the line from behind, my eyes settle on the last figure standing there.

My stomach bottoms out at my initial reaction.

There’s something about those broad shoulders stretched across the dark green fleece sweater he’s wearing, something about his height ... and as I slowly approach closer, something about the messy, sandy-blonde hair that blossoms from underneath the backwards hat he has on …

Something about the big, veiny hand that holds the handle of his suitcase …

I slow to a snail’s pace, still several yards behind him.

It can’t be.

Then he turns his head. Just a fraction. But it’s enough.

I catch the sharp cut of his jaw. The high cheekbones. The dusting of stubble that’s darker than his hair. Just the slightest flash of his blue eyes at profile.

My teeth grind. Why the hell didn’t my department head tell me that Tuck would be here?

Not that Dr. Werther would have any reason to suspect I’d care that a particular hockey player would be here. Not that she’d even know he was going to be.

Still, I’m going to direct my frustration at her for now, because it needs to be directed at something.

Light as a feather, I pad forward. I try to be so quiet that he doesn’t even notice anyone’s walked up behind him.

Maybe, just maybe, the universe will do me the incredible, unbelievable, impossible favor of making me so stealthy that Tuck won’t notice me at all, not even when I’m standing right behind him.

That hope against hope is decisively dashed in about half a second. He turns around like he’s got a chip in his brain that immediately alerts him whenever I’m in his presence.

His bright blue eyes flash. He smirks.

My stomach twists. I notice one very concerning thing. Underneath the annoyance I feel at being right behind the guy I was specifically looking forward to spending time away from, is an undercurrent of … gladness.

A warm, elated feeling at seeing his face after fighting with him for a week. A kind of comfort at his baby blue eyes falling on mine again, at the wry grin on his pert mouth that I’d grown so used to, at the way his brow lifts in excitement at seeing me, making me feel … special, in a way.

It’s like sinking into your own, comfortable bed after a week on vacation where the mattress was way too hard.

But that’s just the undercurrent. It’s easy to push it down and let the more immediate annoyed feeling wash it away. This weekend was supposed to be easy, uncomplicated, relaxing. But uncomplicated is the last thing I feel in the presence of Tuck.

“Olivia,” he exclaims, voice boisterous like he’s spotted an old high school friend on a visit back to his hometown. “Fancy seein’ you here!”

My brow lowers. “What are the odds?” I deadpan.

“Gotta be pretty small odds, I reckon. Just goes to show how lucky you are,” he adds with a wink.

Even when he’s needling me, a wink from Tuck is enough to make me feel like wings are flapping in my stomach.

When I was thinking about getting a fluttery feeling from a hot guy minutes ago, this was not what I had in mind.

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