Page 6 of Playmaker

Apparently so. Yay.

But… then I recognized the woman standing beside him—Anya Apalkov. Also known as… our star goalie.

I turned away and took a long drink. Wow. I had completely forgotten they were a couple. Colin wasn’t here to endorse women’s hockey—he was here to support hiswife.

Some warmth rose in my face, and I silently chastised myself. Why was I so damn prickly about everything? I’d been cynical for a long time—hard not to be when I was part of a women’s league breaking into a male-dominated sport—but lately I’d just been… I didn’t even know. On edge. More pessimistic than usual. Looking for every reason imaginable to throw up my hands and yell “Fuck!”

Could’ve been the long recovery on my knee. Missing most of last season and spending so many months rehabbing hadn’t done great things to my optimism or positivity about much of anything. That came with the territory sometimes.

Getting signed with Pittsburgh had been a bright spot for a little while, but even that had dimmed pretty quickly. Like the shine wearing off a cheap, badly-plated medal, it had gone from gleaming and exciting to… not.

What iswrongwith me?

But then my gaze snagged on another teammate, and it all started to make sense.

Sabrina McAvoy.

She was near the edge of the room, talking with Chloe Morin and Hannah Reilly, our GM and head coach, respectively. She was listening to something Chloe was saying, smiling in a way that seemed genuine.

I didn’t want to admit it, but she looked good tonight. She always had—hockey players were my catnip anyway, and she had the audacity to beseriouslyhot. In a tailored sapphire blue suit with her dark hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, she was… God, she wascriminallyattractive.

Like me, she was on the taller end for players; I was a hair under six foot, and if I recalled from her stats, she was about fiveten. She had that slim but powerful hockey build that made my mouth water—hips and thighs for days, arms and shoulders that made me glad she was wearing a jacket right now so I didn’t start openly drooling.

I took refuge in my drink again and pulled my attention away from her. She was, fortunately, still talking to our head coach and GM, so she hopefully hadn’t noticed me staring at her. I was grateful she hadn’t looked my way, both so she didn’t bust me and because for all I disliked her, I found those dark eyes absolutely mesmerizing.

Maybe it was just as well that I couldn’t stand her. If I actually liked her as much as I was attracted to her, I probably wouldn’t be able to skate around her.

Why can’t I be attracted to someone I like?

Ah well. I’d only been in Pittsburgh for a little while. I had plenty of time to meet women who weren’t insufferable and unavoidable like my teammate.

Teammate. Ugh. Great. That meant that for the next few seasons, none of us would be able to do anything without commentators and reporters bringing Sabrina into the equation. Ihatedthat no one could talk about Anastasia’s accomplishments and records without also mentioning that Sabrina had the primary or secondary assist on most of her goals. It was like no one could exist in the same place as her without being described as if they were inherorbit. All roads led to Rome, and all scoring titles and achievements in women’s hockey somehow led back to Sabrina McAvoy.

I could grudgingly admit she also received a lot of praise she deserved. Watching her play sometimes filled me with envy. Her strong but seemingly effortless skating—the speed, the agility, the way she could maneuver while also protecting the puck—I’d have killed to be half that good. She also saw the ice in ways so many people didn’t; it was like she was always three stepsahead of everyone and knew exactly where to be or where to send the puck. There were moments when everyone from the commentators on down wondered what in the world she was doing, but then the puck would suddenly be in the back of the net, leaving us all wondering what just happened.

Imagine how many other players would be that good if they’d had access to all the training and resources she did.

Okay, I needed another drink. Maybe a stronger one this time. Sabrina was here, I was here, and I wasn’t going to let her presence sour this whole experience—both the party and playing for Pittsburgh. I just needed to get the hell over it, focus on hockey, and ignore the talking heads who screeched her name like trained parrots.

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders, and headed for the bar. As the bartender poured me a beer, someone appeared beside me, and I had a split second to worry that Sabrina wanted to talk to me for some reason. Just what I needed.

Then I realized who it was—Faith Adamo, my best friend. She was my roommate here in Pittsburgh, too, and she’d been hired as the team’s skills coach.

“Hey.” She nudged my elbow and said in a stage whisper, “We’re at a party, not a game.”

“Not a—I know.” I eyed her. The bartender handed me my drink, so I paused to thank him, then turned to Faith as we stepped away from the bar. “I know we’re at a party. That’s why I’m in this.” I gestured at my suit.

“Mmhmm.” She cocked her head. “But you have your murder face on.”

“My—” Oh. Crap. I cleared my throat and schooled my expression. Media-trained as I was, I could still forget myself sometimes and let my mood show through. “Better?”

She giggled. “You don’t look like you’re about to dump your drink on someone, so… yes.”

I managed a laugh, which made the less hostile expression easier to maintain. “I’m fine. I’m just—”

“Hams!” a voice broke through the noise. “Oh my God!”

I turned toward the sound, and my mood brightened a little as Joanna Lawson—Laws, as she was called—crossed the room. She was tiny, not even five feet tall, and there was a reason she was described as “sunshine off the ice and a fireball on it.” She was an absolute menace out there—a lightning fast skater, a wicked sniper, and a fearless fighter if she was pushed far enough—but once the buzzer went off, she was the sweetest person in the world. We’d played together in major juniors and against each other at the Olympics.

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