Page 52 of Head Over Skates

OWEN

"You're right, the poutine is way better here," I say, shoveling another forkful of fries, cheese curds, and gravy into my mouth. Emily wrinkles her nose at me.

"Do you have to eat like such a barbarian?" she asks.

I point my fork at her. "Gotta carb up after the big win tonight."

I still can't believe we actually won. The game was way too close for comfort up until the final period. I really thought we were toast there for a minute.

Emily pulls a face with every bite I take, but I can tell she's fighting back a smile. As we both dig into our late night victory snacks, we fall into a comfortable silence. Every now and then, our legs touch under the table. Can I help it if I’m tall? It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose. Not every time, anyway. And since she clearly doesn’t pull away, I’m just encouraged to do it more.

After a few minutes, Emily speaks up again. "So about this gum I found in Rousseau's office..."

She pulls the shiny wrapper out of her pocket. Éclat d'Érable, that fancy gum from found at the scene of the crime.

"Rousseau's the thief for sure," I declare. Emily gives me a skeptical look.

"Lots of people chew gum, Owen," she points out. "This isn't exactly a smoking gun."

"Maybe not," I admit. "But it's definitely suspicious. We need to investigate this guy more."

Emily grins and leans in conspiratorially. "Funny you should mention that."

She slides a small slip of paper across the table to me. There's an address scribbled on it.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Alphie the Zamboni driver gave it to me," Emily explains. "It's Rousseau's house. Apparently, Rousseau has a mistress he visits every night after home games. And his wife took their kids on a ski trip this weekend, so the house will be empty."

I let out a low whistle. "Alphie the Zamboni driver is one informative guy. Remind me to send him a gift basket."

Emily laughs. "Don't underestimate the Zamboni driver network. We see everything."

This woman. Devious, but stunning. No one has ever made me feel like this before. I can’t explain it other than that safe feeling I get when I’m alone on the ice. Except I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with her.

"Well, Kitten, looks like we're back on the case," I say with a smirk. “Ready to go find ourselves a trophy thief?”

Emily's eyes gleam. "I'll grab my cat burglar outfit."

We takea cab across town to the address Alphie provided. It's in a nice neighborhood, and the house is dark and quiet when we arrive. We sneak around to the back. There’s a doggy door, but no dog.

“I can fit through there,” Emily says.

I give her a look.

“What? It’s a big doggy door.”

Sure enough, she squeezes her body through the opening, and unlatches the door from inside. Luckily, there’s no alarm system.

The house is just as dark and empty as it looked from outside. Emily and I switch on our phone flashlights and start searching the main floor. At first it seems like a dead end. Everything looks normal. But then I notice a door that must lead to the basement.

"Check it out," I whisper to Emily.

She nods, eyes wide, and we quietly make our way over. My heart races as I reach for the door handle and slowly turn it. I just know we're about to find something big. Emily gives me a little shove forward as the door swings open, urging me to go first.

I creep down the stairs, Emily close behind me. She’s breathing shakily, as though she’s a little afraid. Just the sound of her sweet breath is driving me crazy. At the bottom, I sweep my light around what looks like a combination rec room and office. There's a big TV, a leather couch, shelves full of books and trophies. And at the back, a large wooden desk. She shivers, and I instinctively rub her back to warm her up.

I'm just about to get overly amorous for this situation when Emily turns and grabs my arm.

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