Page 14 of Expose on the Ice

This is unexpected…

Lily’s sudden change of tack has caught me off guard. She’s promised no more questions about my family, and it seems too good to be true. Maybe she doesn’t know I can talk shit about hockey all day.

“So, your training regimen,” she prompts, breaking my reverie, pen poised over her notebook. “Tell me what makes the magic happen…”

I shrug, still wary. “Nothing special. Hit the ice, hit the gym, eat right. Rinse and repeat.”

“Come on,” Lily presses, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “I’ve heard about those late-night sessions after everyone’s gone home.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’ve been asking around.”

“It’s my job,” she replies, not missing a beat. “So, what drives you to put in those extra hours?”

I consider deflecting, but something in her earnest expression makes me pause. There’s no harm talking to her about hockey, or in the public finding out I put in some extra hours, and if doing so gets her off my back then so much the better.

“It’s… peaceful,” I admit. “Just me and the ice. No distractions. I can focus on the little details, you know?”

Lily nods, scribbling furiously. “Like what?”

“Edge work, mostly. The way your skates bite into the ice can make all the difference in a tight turn or a quick stop.”

To my surprise, Lily’s eyes light up. “Oh, absolutely. I remember watching Crosby during the 2016 playoffs. The way he could change direction…”

I blink, taken aback by her knowledge. “You’re a fan?”

“More than that,” she says with a grin. “I played in college. Club team, nothing fancy, but I know my way around the ice.”

“No shit,” I mutter, impressed despite myself. As Lily launches into a discussion about that series, I find myself drawn in.

Before I know it, we’re debating defensive strategies. Lily’s insights are sharp, her passion for the game clear. I catch myself gesturing as I explain my thoughts on the neutral zone trap, my earlier reservations forgotten.

“And that’s why I think it’s still a valid strategy in certain situations,” I finish, reaching for my drink. “But some don’t agree…”

Lily nods, her green eyes bright with interest. “I can see your point, but don’t you think it can stifle creativity on the ice?”

As she leans forward to argue her case, a lock of dark hair falls across her cheek. My eyes follow the curve of her neck, down to where her dress dips low.

Not again, I think, my mouth suddenly dry.

Lily’s voice fades into the background as my mind wanders. I imagine running my hands through that silky hair, trailing kisses along her collarbone. What would she taste like? How would she sound if I?—

Don’t even think about it, dickhead, I scold myself.

I snap back to reality. This is business – part of the job – nothing more. I can’t afford to get distracted, especially not by some nosy reporter who’s probably just playing nice to get a story.

“Carter? You still with me?”

I realize she’s asked a question. “Sorry, Ms. Grant. What was that?”

She pauses, clearly noticing my switch back to her full name. She smirks, a glint in her eye. “I asked if you had any thoughts on the upcoming game.”

“Right,” I say. “Yeah, it’s always a tough game against the Mavericks. They’ve got a good defense, but I think we can exploit their weak side…”

As I dive back into hockey talk, I notice the way Lily’s expression has softened. She seems more at ease and, despite my best efforts, I find myself drawn in by her quick wit and genuine interest. It’s a far cry from our first meeting, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m enjoying myself. But a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me to stay on guard.

After all, she’s after a story, and I have secrets to keep.

LILY

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