Page 62 of Head Over Skates

“I beg your finest pardon?”

“Take. It. Off. Before I rip it with my bare hands.”

“Ooooh. I thought we’ve had this conversation, Owen. No pucks.”

My eyes sweep down over her figure. So that’s what that metaphor means. And for the record, I wouldn’t compare them to pucks. I need to find us a closet ASAP.

A sound comes out of me I’m sure I have never made in all my twenty-eight years. I probably sound like a cross between a bear and a dragon and I don’t care because Emily’s eyes flash big and round as I take the jersey off my own back and shove it at her.

“If you’re going to wear a team jersey, Kitty Cat, I don’t want to see any name across your back other than mine. And throw that cheap piece of fabric you're wearing in the trash.”

As I walk away, I hear her call after me, “I paid a lot for this. Even with my discount.”

“Then you wasted your money,” I say, and don’t look back as I make my way to the dressing room to put on a replacement jersey.

When I get there, Coach is about to give his “Win one for the Gipper” pep talk. Seems I left them waiting, which is so unlike my character. All eyes are on me when I walk through the door exposing my pads.

Every single guy saw me not ten minutes ago before I went to find Emily, and most of them know where I’ve been. Coach rolls his eyes, but it’s Sawyer who says what everyone is thinking.

“Couldn’t keep your clothes on, Jablonski?”

“She undressed him with her eyes,” adds Hendrix.

Coach claps his hands. “Okay, settle down. But seriously, Jablonski. Where’s your jersey?”

“I gave it to a fan, okay?” I reach into my stall and slip on a new jersey. Then all the guys go silent. I turn around to see Emily standing in the doorway, hip cocked, the concession-bought shirt dangling from one finger. She’s wearing my jerseyover her tiny frame. She’s swimming in it, but pulls it off like it’s the latest fashion trend. She is so freaking sexy. I touch my face to make sure my tongue isn’t hanging out like in old cartoons.

She looks right at me. “I was told I’d find a trash in here.”

Oh, I am going to make her pay for this.

Somebody snickers. I can tell a few of the guys are trying to hold in their laughter.

Coach jerks his chin from me to Emily. “Jablonski,” he warns.

I trek over to her with murder in my eyes, but also something else. My whole body is on alert as I take in her figure from head to toe. Suddenly I have fantasies I’ll never be able to unsee. Emily in my jersey, walking around my house. Barefoot. Taking over every part of my life.

I could live with that.

She shoves the shirt into my chest and narrows her eyes.

"Just so you know, I'm only wearing this because Cyrus will get a kick out of it. Don't go getting a big head."

The whole room behind me erupts in raucous laughter.

“You earned that one, babe,” I tease.

Her cheeks turn pink. It’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Just go do your stretches.” With a quirk of her brow, she spins on her heel and walks away.

“Gave it to a fan, eh?” Sawyer goads.

I don’t even care about the teasing, because my name is stretched across her shoulders. She’s mine.

Intermission rolls around,and instead of heading to the dressing room, I hurry over to the Zamboni gate to see Cyrus get his ride. He’s already perched on the machine next to Emily,ready to go out. Leigh had brought him down and left him in Emily’s care. Her husband probably told her that Emily’s my girlfriend, so she felt comfortable leaving Cyrus with her.

Cyrus turns around to wave at me as he rides onto the ice with Emily. My heart flips at the sight of the two of them, riding side by side, both wearing my name and number.

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