Page 48 of His Jersey

She rolls her eyes. “Details shmeetails. Without realizing it,he’s been looking for the woman who it’ll fit, traveling over hill and dale, across the country, seeking the woman who’ll be a hit.” Leah pulls a face as if well aware of how cheesy that sounds.

But if that’s true, why me?

I ask, “So, he’s a bit of a player, then?”

“Was. Complete with a warren of puck bunnies. Something changed in the last few years. As I said, I pay attention to these things. So far, I’ve successfully matched three hockey players and their wives. Still waiting on my own.”

This gives me the impression that Jack has a playboy reputation, but what about the first kiss a year ago and recently? My pulse jitters. I swipe a cookie off the plate. Is Jack another version of Slater?

Leah says, “Jack Bouchelle’s jersey is the stuff of legends. Some say it’s woven with real silver thread. Others avow that she who wears it will unlock treasures beyond her wildest dreams and be granted three wishes.”

“Now, you’re just messing with me.”

Leah looks me straight in the eyes. “He’s never asked a woman to wear the jersey. He’s never had a woman in the VIP box. EVER. They just kind of gather, orbiting him, but I checked with Carlos. He confirmed these facts.”

Does that make me special or is this just a convenient arrangement for his career? After all, I am being paid to wear it.

Leah says, “But the story about Jack’s jersey that I think is true is that whoever wears it will be married to him within the year.”

“There were at least a hundred women in the arena wearing it.”

She arches an eyebrow. “True, but none of them are you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Heaskedyou to wear his jersey … and it fits.” Leah points tothe women across the room, busy on their phones and surreptitiously glancing at us every few minutes. “They know it. I know it. Jack knows it.”

“Is the legend of his jersey something he devised? If so, that’s pretty self-aggrandizing.”

“No, of course not. It’s bunny lore.”

If all this is true and this is a first for Jack, why is he paying me? “My life isn’t a fairytale where I fall in love at first sight or with the first guy who skates into my life. He doesn’t even have a powerful steed,” I say, expanding the metaphor.

“But he’s a powerful player,” Leah says.

“He doesn’t have a sword.”

“If he joins the Knights, he will, in a way. Their logo is a sword crossed with a hockey stick.”

“That means a new jersey,” I say, stupidly worried about whether it’ll fit. I press my hand to my forehead.

“That means a happily ever after.”

Wearing jeans and a hoodie, Jack appears from the now crowded room. A few of the women who Leah pointed out abruptly get to their feet and approach him, but he makes a beeline for me, sending my pulse buzzing.

19

JACK

Not two secondsafter I reach Ella, where she perches on the arm of a chair next to Leah, a perfumed cloud of women surrounds us. Bark Wahlburger growls from a distance.

I’ll confess that in the past, I let myself give into this kind of temptation, but it always left me feeling empty. With Ella confidently sporting my jersey that highlights her curves, paired with those killer jeans that accentuate her shape, I’m completely captivated. I cannot resist her sense of humor, effortless charm, and radiant smile. She’s woven a spell around me—I’m hooked.

Before I can greet her properly now that I’m no longer covered in hockey glitter, aka sweat, the puck bunnies purr my name, most of them calling me “Jackie.” I don’t mind if Carlos calls me Juan or my teammates refer to me by my last name, but only my mother called me Jackie and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

“It’s Jack,” I say.

“Okay, Jack Attack,” one teases.

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