Page 58 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Camden

With a burst of speed, I joined the rush of players skating hard toward the goal. The puck flew back and forth between my teammates, getting knocked loose by one of Chicago’s defenders. The puck bounced back to where I was like a dream, a perfect setup for a shot. Without hesitation, I wound up and let loose, the puck rocketing off my stick.

It sailed through the air, the crowd holding its breath as it hurtled toward the net. Slamming into the back of the goal, the sound seemed to echo through my ears like a thunderclap.

I held up my arms, doing a little shimmy for good measure. Twelfth goal of the season, tied for most among the league’s defensemen...with Ari.

A rush of pleasure spat through my veins—the feeling I’d spent my whole life chasing every game.

Ari and Lincoln swarmed me, cheering and high-fiving.

“You coming for me, James?” Ari yelled, the big smile on his face saying he wasn’t mad about that at all.

I gave him a little salute as they skated off toward the bench.

I didn’t follow them. Instead, I skated over to Anastasia’s section where she was standing up, jumping up and down. Shit. Was her leg alright? Should she be moving like that? Studying her beautiful face, the big smile spread across her lips didn’t seem to suggest any pain. I decided to go ahead with my next move, and I lifted my jersey, showcasing her name painted across my abs once more.

Anastasia blushed, her hands going to her cheeks adorably as she stared at me.

I could have stared at her all night. The crowd’s roar grew even louder, and I knew this would be all over the Dallas news tonight and tomorrow. Maybe it would even get on SportsCenter.

Just for good measure, I pointed to the letters on my chest and then her...a huge smirk on my lips.

If we were going to be on the news, might as well make it crystal clear who she belonged to.

“James, get over here,” Coach Porter screamed, and I cast her one more longing glance before skating back to the bench. At least Ezra had gotten rid of the girl who’d almost pushed Anastasia down the fucking seats. Having to wade into the crowd and forcibly remove her myself might have been difficult to explain to the Knights’ management.

I’d spent my entire career carefully cultivating the good guy image. The All-American superstar that a team could count on.

It was crazy thinking I’d been ready to throw that all away for her by leaping up the stands and ripping that girl away.

“Is there a way to keep the four of you from making a scene?” Coach Porter hissed, smacking the helmet of Alex Turner as he climbed over the boards to finish the last minute of the game.

“Probably not, Coach,” commented Ari, bouncing his head as a rock song blared over the speakers. “It’s a definite addiction at this point.”

Coach Porter snorted and shook his head as he turned back to the game—like he didn’t believe him.

I was a hundred percent positive that Ari Lancaster was not kidding. I’d watched him, Walker, and Lincoln with their wives...and I’d never seen anything like it. I’d never understood it. How their world began and ended with those women.

I think I was starting to get it now.

I snuck a glance over to Anastasia as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game.

What?

She was headed up the stairs...quickly, weaving in and out of people as she made her way to the exit. I shot up from the bench, trying to figure out how I could get up to her in time to stop her. I’d totally screwed up by not making sure someone was near her to make sure she stayed.

Fuck. I looked over at the large clock above the suites and saw that it was almost ten o’clock.

Her curfew.

She only had thirty minutes to make it back to the shelter before they wouldn’t let her in. I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the car I’d arranged to get her back.

And I was fucking stuck here for at least another hour with post-game shit.

“Why the long face, Hero?” Walker said, clapping me on the shoulder as he made it back to the bench from the net.

“I need a favor,” I told him tensely.

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