Page 44 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“Hey, man, mind keeping your voice down? I’m trying to make a quick getaway here.” Sammy says, his hand landing casually on the small of my back as he ushers me into the car. I ignore the frisson of pleasure and heat that travels up and down my spine.

Obviously, Sammy has a lot to be confident about, but he doesn’t usually act the big, tough hockey man. Right now, though, chatting with the driver, he’s completely different, and I have to work to keep my mouth from dropping open.

“I’m a Rangers fan,” the driver was saying, “but man—that save in the third? Worth the watch, even if we lost.”

“You might not believe it, but I’ll agree with you,” Sammy says, and then, when the car pulls up outside the hotel. “Hey, man, I know you’re not a Vipers guy but if you want something signed, I got a minute.”

He waits a moment for the driver to produce a napkin from the glove box, then beams when he holds it up after Sammy signs it.

“Thanks, man,” the driver says, waving the napkin like a flag. “Based on the way your season is going, I’m betting this is going to ageverywell.”

The driver pulls away, and Sammy offers me his arm.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, as we head into the lobby and find the elevator.

“What?”

“That! You just—why couldn’t you turn on that charm with Harper?”

“Okay, I did notturn on the charmwith the driver—”

“He was practically drooling over you, Sammy.”

“I don’t think he was gay.”

“One,” I say, ticking it off on my finger as the elevator climbs, “how would you know? And two, you were charming in the car. Suave!”

He turns to me, eyebrow raised, and I suddenly realize how small the elevator car is and how close he is to me. Swallowing, I try to avert my eyes, but find them locked on his.

“You think I’m charming?” he asks, his voice an octave lower than normal.

“No,” I say, letting out a breath when the elevator finally dings and the door opens. Reaching into my purse, I search for my key card, not remembering my number.

“You’re across from me,” Sammy says, gesturing for me to follow him down a hallway. I do, and we travel almost to the end, stopping in front of 2106 and 2107. Right across from each other.

“All I’m saying,” I whisper, aware of the time, “is that you should have acted like that with Harper.”

“So youdothink I’m charming?” he asks again, his dimples popping. My eyes flit to them momentarily, and I think about what it would feel like to bite one, then push the thought from my mind.

“You’re not paying attention, Sammy,” I snap. “You need to stay focused. On Harper.”

“I’m just not sure tonight was right!” His smile oozes away and a strange thrill runs through me at the frustration in his tone. “She seemed—I don’t know. I didn’t want to make a move and have her reject me.”

“She had her hand on your chest, Sammy,” I say, and in a move that surprises me, I move forward and place my own palm against his chest. His heart is skipping under it, faster than I thought.

I know his resting heart rate. And this is not it.

Am I frustrating him? Making him angry?Good. I don’t want him getting complacent now that he’s finally getting good.

“So?” he says, voice low as his hand skips from my eyes and down to my hand on him. “What does that mean?”

“It means she wants you!”

“But what if she didn’t?”

“What if she did?”

“What if all it did was make things awkward?”

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