Logan did some kind of moonwalk across the ice in front of us, and hell, I was suddenly wondering if I could get away with punching my own teammate in front of an arena filled with people because obviously the only person who could moonwalk in front of my girl was me...
That’s how we’d gotten into this mess to begin with, obviously.
The last notes finally—thankfully—faded, and I lifted my jersey to show off our finishing touches.
“Anastasia” was written in paint across my chest—fun for the uniform people to get out later. Lincoln, Ari, and Walker all had their girls’ names on their chests as well. I’m sure they would have questions about who Anastasia was later on.
Logan’s chest said “open for business” with an arrow pointing down...
Anastasia stared at my chest, her mouth gaping before she glanced up at my face. I dropped the jersey and made a heart sign before Coach began screaming at us to get our asses in gear.
“Went a little off script there, Lancaster,” I muttered to him as we headed down the tunnel toward our locker room where we would no doubt get reamed by Coach until the game started.
“I’m an entertainer, James,” Ari said sarcastically. “I have to do what the music compels me to do.”
“The music compelled you to mount me?”
He grinned at me smugly. “Sir Mix-a-Lot demands someone be mounted.”
Lincoln snorted as he passed us, shaking his head.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t think I’m funny, Golden Boy,” Ari called after him.
“Don’t pretend like you need Sir Mix-a-Lot to mount something,” Lincoln shot back.
I was still shaking my head as we reached the locker room, wondering at the same time—how freaked out was Anastasia right now?
CHAPTER 10
ANASTASIA
The rest of the Company was shooting me looks, talking about me loudly as we waited for the players to come back out and the game to start. I couldn’t even find it in myself to care—I was too shocked by what had happened.
Watching Camden James dance...
My panties were soaked.
And I didn’t have a lot of extra.
The trip to the laundromat would be well worth it, though.
But the end...that was what had me tripping all over myself, practically falling out of my seat in a puddle of confusion and lust.
That had been my name on his chest, right? I hadn’t hallucinated that?
I wanted to ask someone—check whether my eyes actually worked—but I was afraid they would think I was crazy.
It was just that the reality of what had happened seemed impossible. Because why would an NHL superstar ever put my name anywhere...let alone on a body part?
I’d Googled him on a library computer today. He really was a superstar. Either he or Ari Lancaster had gotten the James Norris Memorial Trophy every year for the last six years—evidently, that was the trophy for the best Defender in the League.
I’d read all about all the charities he’d supported. He’d won the NHL’s trophy for humanitarian work three times as well.
That was easy to believe. He’d been at a community kitchen the first time I’d met him after all, and judging by how easily everyone interacted with him—it hadn’t been the first time.
I’d also come across some of the...campaigns he’d been a part of.
One had been a men’s briefs line, and Camden James had a lot to be cocky about.