Page 47 of His Jersey

Leah continues, “There’s a mixture of guys who’re in relationships, whether serious or casual, but the puck bunnies throw themselves at anyone in skates. For others, the puck bunnies are super fans and just really appreciate the game and the guys but are waiting to be noticed. Chosen, you might say.” She sighs and chucks a handful of snack mix in her mouth.

I take it Leah is in the last group.

“However, you’re a puck princess, which is like thecrowning glory of all the women who want to be among the WAGs.”

“You’ll have to speak English.”

“As I mentioned, my parents speak Spanish but didn’t pass it along to my siblings and me.”

We both chuckle.

“No, I mean, what’s WAGs?

“Wives and girlfriends.”

I press my hand to my chest. “Oh, I’m not?—”

Holding a pretzel rod with white chocolate and sprinkles in the team colors on the end, she waves it around like a wand. “The jersey is the perfect fit.”

I pinch the shoulders of the garment and hold it in front of me. “It’s huge.”

“And you should put it back on.”

Voices carry from beyond the door. I eye it cautiously, worried we’re about to get caught and kicked out.

“If you don’t, they’ll have you surrounded. Trust me.”

I scramble to put the jersey back on as a large group of people come in—some definitely hockey players with the same build as Jack, along with at least two dozen women all wearing less clothing than advisable in a hockey rink. Then again, it’s warmer in this room. There are also a variety of people I assume are friends, family, and management, like Carlos. He waves but doesn’t come over as he has what looks like an intense conversation with a curly-haired man.

“I’ve lived a divided life for too long,” Leah says dramatically.

“What do you mean?”

She absently pets Bark Wahlburger as if used to having a dog nearby. “I’m a fan of the Knights, but because Chuck gets tickets to any game that Jack plays, I go to as many as my airline miles will allow, but my heart belongs in Nebraska.”

“Are any of these players on the Knights?”

“No, they’re likely already on their way home. They don’t party.”

“Seems pretty tame right now to me.”

“Give it an hour.”

But what she said about traveling with her brother brings to mind Jack’s offer to play for the Knights. That would mean Carlos would be based in Nebraska, giving her a greater chance of meeting the hockey player of her dreams. She seems sweet and I hope she gets her happily ever after.

“But as I was saying … See? They didn’t descend because Jack made it clear that you’re not available. Even though the Storm plays dirty, they’d never do him dirty. Though it looks like some of the women are curious about who caught superstar Bouchelle’s heart.”

I glance around and there is more whispering and staring like in the VIP box. “I don’t think I’ve caught anyone’s eyes or heart?—”

Leah’s eyebrows lift and I half expect her to pat me on the head and say,There, there, little Puck Princess. Stop denying what’s obvious. But do I want to?

Instead, she says, “The thing about being the puck princess is that the jersey is perfect on you. I’m an expert when it comes to these things. Countless women have worn number ten’s sweater—that’s hockey slang—but it never quite looked right. Too baggy in places, sagged in others.”

I’m not about to tell her that Jack paid me to wear it, but I do start to protest.

She shakes her now-stubby pretzel rod at me. “Listen, Bouchelle’s jersey is like a glass slipper scenario.”

“That doesn’t make sense. His jersey is neither glass nor is it a slipper.”

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