Page 131 of Miami Ice

“It’s called Georgie’s Jars. I have a website, and I’m on Etsy. But don’t judge my photos!” I tease, holding out my hand in a stop motion.

“Here’s the entrance you’ll always want to take for the best view,” Scarlett says, leading me to sections 108 and 109. We enter through the tunnel and begin to walk down the steps, and I’m happy to see the players haven’t taken the ice yet. “Georgie, if you ever want some photography tips or for me to take some pictures for you, I’d be happy to help.”

“Would you really? That’s so generous of you, Scarlett.”

“I have downtime now,” she says as we get closer to the ice. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Yes, I would love that,” I say. “I can pay you for your time.”

“Oh no, I’m offering my services for free. I’m not pitching you for a side hustle,” Scarlett says, grinning at me.

Suddenly I get the same feeling I got when I met Becca for the first time.

Scarlett is someone I could really like.

“Well, if you like my jars, I’ll gift you one.”

“Now that sounds like a payment plan I can get on board with,” Scarlett says cheerfully.

We reach the ice and find a good spot on the glass, and I shiver. I could blame it on the fact that I’m wearing a tube top and I’m standing next to a sheet of ice, but I know that’s only half the reason a chill just raced through me.

I know it’s because I’m excited to show Beckham I’m wearing his name tonight.

Scarlett and I chat easily as we wait for the players to hit the ice. I learn she’s the baby of the family, with two older brotherswho also play hockey. One plays for a team in Switzerland, and the other plays in the NHL in Las Vegas. Scarlett has spent her whole life moving from city to city, all over the United States and Canada, because of her dad being a coach. I can’t imagine how hard that would be. To not feel grounded in any place.

“The first time I felt like I had a permanent home was when I was in college,” Scarlett confides, brushing a lock of her glossy brown hair away from her face. “For four years, at college in Connecticut, I knew I wouldn’t be moving. I can’t explain what a relief that was for me.”

I shift my gaze from the sheet of ice in front of me to her profile. She must feel me because she turns and her gaze meets mine, and an embarrassed look passes over her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she suddenly says. “I’m oversharing, and normally I don’t do that. You just have this kindness about you that’s making me spill all the tea.”

My heart warms. “That’s a wonderful compliment, thank you,” I say. “And your tea is safe with me.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Nashville players enter the ice from the other side of the rink. My eyes shift to the entrance next to us, where the Miami Manatees will enter the ice.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the PA announcer says. “Welcome to Premier Airlines Arena for tonight’s matchup between the Nashville Badgers and your MIAMI MANATEESSSSSSSSSSSSS.”

My heart slams against my ribs as “Ice Ice Baby” begins to blare through the arena, and the Manatee players take to the ice one by one. I find myself holding my breath as I wait to see Beckham hit the ice. First, I see Aiden, followed by his brother, Wyatt.

And then I see Beckham.

I can’t contain the smile that spreads across my face as I watch Beckham skate onto the ice. A tingling feeling sweeps over me as I drink in how hot he looks in his hockey jersey. He quickly skates across, and I see his eyes are scanning the crowd.

Looking for me.

I put my hand to the glass as he approaches the corner. Beckham’s eyes lock with mine, and the biggest smile lights up his face as he sees me. He continues around the net, then he picks up a puck with his stick and fires a shot that hits the back of the net.

So. Freaking. Hot.

I’m so lost in my own world of watching Beckham that I forget Scarlett is standing next to me. I turn to say something, but I notice her gaze is locked on to the ice, in one particular area. I follow it, and to my surprise, I see she’s staring at Aiden.

I watch for a few seconds to make sure I’m right, and wherever Aiden goes on the ice, Scarlett’s gaze follows the defenseman with unruly, wavy golden-brown hair, an errant lock sweeping dramatically across his forehead.

She must feel me watching her because she turns and looks at me, and her cheeks instantly begin to turn pink.

Whoa. Does Scarlett like Aiden?

She clears her throat and turns her attention back to the ice, but I can’t forget what I just saw. Because if she does like Aiden, it’s kind of doomed. She’s the head coach’s daughter. This can’t go anywhere.

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