Page 132 of The Pucking Wrong Man

“I’ll just drop you off at the back entrance. That’s the closest route to your seat tonight,” she told me, nodding her head at a set of double doors as she pulled into a half-circle drive.

Dang. In the stress of the afternoon I’d completely forgotten that Camden had gotten me a seat with Monroe, Blake...and Olivia.

“Thank you,” I said when she’d come to a stop. Crap, I needed to tip her. I rooted around in my bag, searching for a spare dollar—anything.

“Mr. James took care of my tip,” she said gently, and I blushed, nodding and thanking her again profusely as I exited the car.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to pull up the tickets that Camden had sent me. I finally had to shove my phone at the ticket person and ask them to help.

Two seconds later, and the elderly man had pulled it up. “Have fun,” he said, giving me a grin with a set of false teeth.

“Thanks,” I said, ducking my head because a senior citizen knew more about my phone than I did.

I was just embarrassing myself left and right tonight.

Weaving my way through the crowded concourse, I searched for the entrance I needed to get to my seat.

“There it is,” I muttered to myself as I finally found the right letter.

I walked down the tunnel, the chill from the ice growing with every step I took until I’d gotten out into the stands. The countdown clock on the Jumbotron said there was only two minutes left until the game.

I’d missed almost all of the warm-ups.

Moving to the side, I watched the ice, quickly spotting Camden skating around. Ari said something to him, and I grinned as they did a fist bump. They were so cute.

The picture on the Jumbotron changed, and up popped a video of Monroe, Blake, and Olivia sitting in their seats, laughing and talking as they snacked on popcorn.

My stomach clenched. They looked perfect, effortlessly poised, and stunning.

I glanced at my reflection on the metal pole I was standing next to.

I was a mess. The messy bun I’d put together in the car defined the word “mess,” and not the sexy kind. My face was pale and drawn and makeup-less, dark circles under my eyes that made me look like a zombie.

The Jumbotron briefly flashed to someone else in the crowd before going back to the group of women. Again.

There was no way I was going to sit by them. Monroe and Blake had seemed so nice the other night, and I’m sure Olivia was nice too. But I didn’t need to embarrass myself—or Camden—in front of the whole arena by sitting there like this.

He’d understand. Right?

A hint of guilt threaded its way through my chest. He’d been so excited when he’d told me about the seats and that I’d be hanging with his best friends’ wives.

I’d just have to get to know them better later.

Besides, we’d fucked once, I told myself petulantly. I didn’t need to be sitting with the wives like this was serious.

Except, I desperately wanted it to be serious.

I thought about that “I love you” that had slipped out of his mouth. I’d been actively trying not to think about it. Because he couldn’t have meant it, right?

It was too early. He was just playing around with me.

I desperately wanted him to have meant that “I love you,” though, too.

Because I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Heart pounding, I turned and headed back down the tunnel, finding a ticket booth.

“Can you trade this ticket for one higher up?” I asked, showing him the ticket on my phone.

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