Page 131 of Butterfly Effect

I ditch my earpiece. Can’t risk anyone overhearing our conversation.

My hands clinch the top of the boards to lean in and meet him halfway but fly up to his pads when he drops his goalie mask to the ice. He spits his mouth guard to the side and hides his facebetween the wall of my hair and jaw. I squeal at the tickle of his breath and scratchy stubble.

Fans behind us gasp and titter.

“You left without my good luck kiss, you wench.”

The sincere smile on my face stretches wider and preempts a hearty laugh. “This is a family sport, Boehner. What’re you gonna do about it?”

To everyone else, it looks like a sweet hug.

“Steal it from you” —he nips the sensitive spot below my ear— “gonna take what’s mine.” His tongue swipes and swipes at the column of my neck, flattening to create a deep suction from his dampened lips. I giggle—freaking giggle—at the combination. “Remember how that feels.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause that’s how I want you to eat my ass.”

“You’ll have to wait until we get back to Ottawa. I’m not rimming you in some hotel bed.”

“I can be patient.”

“Atta boy.”

We pull apart, grinning at each other like the two horny fools we are. One last quick peck is met with whistles and whooping from the surrounding sections.

“Have a good game,” I sing-song with a flirty wave, wiggling my fingers by my shoulder to complete the spectacle.

Wade collects his mask and chews on his mouthguard, gliding away with a wink.

The Bears play hard but are no match for the previous year’s champions. Between the forwards alternating goals and assists, and Jaeger and Olsen’s solid wall of defense, Boehner has been sitting pretty in the net, crease almost untouched in the first two periods. He blocks and slaps away the two attempts with ease.

I have to stop myself from cheering for the Regents more than once.

At the end of the game, Mel tells me to nab Landon before he gets off the ice.

“Radek! Over here! Got a second?”

He nods and heads my way, tilting toward me to hear through his helmet and over the raucous in the arena.

John Fairbanks from the press box prompts the switchover. Denise’s green light signals I’m on air. I slap on a smile for the camera.

“We’ve got Gabe Finch down at the rink with the Regents’ alternate captain.”

“Thanks, John. Here with Landon Radek, who scored two goals and made two assists in this shutout game.” My best friend’s husband pants out a humble laugh and inhales through his nose. “Just over a month into the regular season, Ottawa has racked up a twelve-game winning streak—sixteen if you count the preseason—are you attempting to break a league record? Is this something the team talked about?”

Landon catches his breath, his dimpled smile oozing charm and charisma. “Y’know, we didn’t set out to do it; we’re playing to win—and that’s what we’ll keep trying to do.”

“Your next game is in Seattle. The Specters are a newer team, but talented and determined to compete for the Cup this year. How do you think you’ll stack up?”

“I think we can handle whatever they throw at us.”

He’s obviously exhausted, so I let him go.

“Sounds like you have a plan. Thanks, Landon. See you in Seattle.”

With that, he coasts away, stopping to sign a puck and toss it over the glass to a young fan, then jumps through the gate and disappears down the hallway at a slow jog.

“Should be an exciting match-up. The Ottawa Regents play the Seattle Specters in Washington tomorrow at 7 p.m. Eastern. Back to John for the post-game analysis.”

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