Page 24 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

It swiftly backfires.

“Great!” The photographer moves several steps forward and waving his hand at us. “Back up—go right against the railing, and I’ll get a picture of you looking out at the view.”

Beside me, Sammy fully stiffens. I can feel his fear emanating through him. But, for some reason, this third person being involved seems to bolster him.

Slowly, moving stiffly like he can barely get his limbs to cooperate, he turns and walks to the railing. I hear his breathing come faster when we approach, and his eyes are nearly shut.

“That perfect!” the photographer calls. Sammy’s arm is still over my shoulders, warm and heavy.

Beyond the railing, Vermont sprawls out before us, patches of green and brown and vibrant, boisterous patches of fire red and blazing orange. The hills rise and fall, and from here we can see roads snaking through the mountains, climbing in and out of the trees, tiny cars plugging along, each of them on their own journey.

“Sammy,” I whisper, unable to keep the awe out of my voice. “Look.”

To my surprise, he follows my command immediately, opening his eyes and letting out a long, unsteady breath.

Slowly, I feel his shoulder relax, his hand flexing and coming to rest around the side of my arm.

“Wow,” he says after a moment, and when I look up at him, his eyes are glassy. “Small steps, huh?”

***

Sammy is still puffed up with pride when we climb back into our seats on the train.

“That was amazing,” he says, a sort of boyish joy in his voice that genuinely makes me smile. “I have to tell the guys about this place.”

I snort. “You don’t think the guys already know about the tallest mountain in Vermont?”

“Fair point,” he admits, dipping his head, “but it’s a whole different ball game with an elite athlete coach analyzing your every move.”

I roll my eyes and cross my legs. “I was not analyzing your every move.” Except that I was. I’ve been hyper aware of him since the moment he pulled into the parking lot this morning.

The way his face shifted when he realized he’d conquered his fear. How his arm felt draped over my shoulders. The brief, protective hand that found its way to my back when I was climbing back up the stairs into the train car.

“I was just observing your progress,” I continue, when I realize Sammy is staring at me, eyebrows raised.

“Same thing,” he laughs, and when he adjusts in his seat, his leg brushes against mine. Something tightens in my throat, and I have to fight the urge to press my own against his. Instead, I shift it away, focusing on the mimosa in my hand.

Sammy may not be able to drink, but there’s no reason I can’t.

“I’m pretty sure Devon is afraid of heights,” Sammy laughs a moment later, as though he’s still thinking about it. “Grey would pretend to hate it, but he’d secretly be thrilled. And Harper would make Brett do some ridiculous dance, or lip sync to a trend and I’d get roped into it.”

“Harper?”

“Oh,” Sammy says, eyes snapping back to mine, a deep red flush blooming over his cheeks.

I’m used to paying attention, so I catch every single piece of his body language—the way he shifts, how his pupils dilate, the rosy complexion.

Everything about his attraction toHarperis written all over him. Clear as day.

He continues, voice rough. “She’s just the social media manager for the team. The new one. After Percy quit. He was fine but Harper is—”

“Fine?” I tease, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the strange pit that’s opening in my stomach. I never talk to clients like this, but there’s something about the way he’s fumbling with this obvious attraction that’s making me feel…what? Sorry for him?

Jealous?

No—if he has an insecurity, I need to get to the bottom of it. That’s all.

“No,” Sammy says, but his face says otherwise. “It’s just—”

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