Page 76 of Ice Dance Hockey

“Rhett’s fucking smitten with you.”

My heart stops. Jack wouldn’t fuck around with something like that, but he can be wrong. “Pretty sure he’s still hung up on you.”

Jack’s palm spins on the steering wheel, turning the corner. His hair’s gotten shaggy and the pieces that curl out of his hat sway with the motion. “Nope.”

“Nope? What the fuck do you mean, nope? I was dressed so sexily the other night that Merc almost didn’t let me out of the house, and he was too wrapped up in a conversation with you to spare me a glance.”

Jack smiles wider for some stupid fucking reason. “What is he, Logan?”

“Jack—”

“Answer? An NHL hockey star. Ever heard of a guy called Wayne Gretzky?” He’s being a sarcastic asshole. Gretzky is mentioned at least seven times a day in the Meyer household like he’s a religion. “He never looked at the players in his wings when he passed the puck because he didn’t need to. His peripheral vision was off the charts. Like, freaky level. Rhett’s the same. He saw you, Lo, and I know the moment he saw you. He stopped being able to breathe right.”

No. But … no. “Why wouldn’t he look at me, then?”

“Because you’re fake, remember?” His voice is mocking while his green eyes smile. “He probably doesn’t know what to do with his feelings.”

That would mean …

Fuck. I need to test him. I can’t help it. I send him a text.

You made me so angry that I ruined my practice skates walking on cement. I need you to fix it, gorilla.

Thankfully, I haven’t busted out the ones Jack and Mercy gave me yet. I’m saving them for school.

The dots appear immediately.

You’ll have a new pair by the end of the day. I’ll deliver them myself.

“Whatever the opposite of prickly cactus is, that’s what you are right now,” Jack says. “All better?”

I rub my thumb over Rhett’s message. “Yeah, I think so.” Is this happening? Is this real life?

Stanley fusses in the back, on the verge of wails if history is anything to go by.

“I know, my boy. You’re hungry. We’ll be home soon,” Jack coos.

“There a bottle in his bag?”

“Yeah, why—Logan!”

I’m already out of my seatbelt and catapulting into the back. We’re still another fifteen minutes out from home. Stanley can’t wait that long.

“Your brother’s gonna kill me, Lo.”

“Nah, only me,” I say, rifling through the bag for a bottle. I sit next to Stanley’s car seat.

“Fuck … for the love of my ass, put your seatbelt on.”

“Just so we’re clear, I don’t love your ass, but I will put my seatbelt on.”

Chapter17

Gretzky-Level Periphery

Rhett

Inever should have bought him that dress.All it was supposed to do was make my dick throb. A fun little bout of anticipation before I took him back to my apartment after the charity auction and railed him into the mattress. I didn’t expect my heart to stop. Never have I been so grateful for my Wayne Gretzky-level periphery. I didn’t want Logan to see my face, so I kept talking to Jack.

---