Page 2 of Knot Sharing the Ice

But that doesn't mean I'm not entitled to brood a little.

At a distance.

When no one else is watching.

"Right now, all I want to appreciate is this ice time I paid for," I reply, hoping to end the conversation.

Taylor gets me more than anyone does, and she knows the mask of nonchalance I'm wearing right now is just that—a mask. But it's not one I feel like taking off anytime soon.

"Point taken, sis. Enjoy the you time, but we'll save you a s'more."

I can't help but smile at the screen, tapping out a quick thanks before I get back into the right headspace.

I toss my phone back into my bag and push off, determined to lose myself in the routine once more. The familiar movements ground me, each jump and spin a testament to years of hard work and dedication. For a blissful hour, there's nothing but me, the ice, and the music in my head.

The loud creak of the rink door shatters my focus. I stumble out of a spin, whipping around to see who else has decided to interrupt my much-needed practice time.

Four men saunter in, laughing and shoving each other like overgrown boys and their chaos immediately dissolves the serenity of the ice. They're dressed in blue-and-gray jerseys outfitted in padding that makes their already larger-than-life physiques even bulkier.

But that's not what I notice first.

I may have sworn off men in general, for the foreseeable future. But even if I had cucumbers on my eyes, I wouldn't be able to miss the fact that they're obscenely gorgeous, all tall and broad-shouldered with the unmistakable swagger of alphas.

Great. Just what I need.

I grit my teeth, skating toward the edge of the rink, my sheer, shimmery blue skirt fluttering like waves around the tights I wear beneath my matching pink leotard. "Excuse me," I call out, not bothering to mask my annoyance. "This rink has been reserved."

The biggest of the group, a blond Adonis with piercing blue eyes, grins at me. "We know," he calls back. "We're the ones who reserved it."

I blink, certain I've misheard. "There has to be some mistake," I say, gliding closer in case he's having trouble hearing me. "I reserved the rink for myself. For the full week."

As I approach, their laughter between each other dies down. They all turn to look at me, expressions shifting from amusement to... something else.

Something I can't quite place.

It's unsettling, but I'm too irritated to care about the strange intensity in their gazes.

"Look," I say, coming to a stop at the barrier. "I paid good money to have this place to myself. I have a competition coming up, and I need the practice time."

The blond alpha steps forward, still smiling, but there's an edge to it now. "So do we, Cotton Candy. We've got our own competition to prepare for."

Cotton Candy?

I blink, momentarily at a loss, until I look down at my pink-and-blue ensemble and realize where it's coming from.

But what can I say?

They're my favorite colors, and the combo looks good against my dark chestnut waves, even if they are presently tied back about as tightly as I am.

I bristle at the endearment. "Don't call me that. And what kind of competition could you possibly have that requires taking over an entire rink for a week?"

They exchange a look and the bemused smirks they had plastered on those obnoxiously handsome faces a few minutes ago return, as if they've recovered from whatever just threw them for a loop.

A darker-haired alpha with striking green eyes chuckles. "Hockey, darlin'. We're the Belmont City Reapers. Part of them, anyway."

The name clicks into place and I feel my face heat with embarrassment. Of course. The pro team that's been making waves in the league by beating the Sterling City Wolves every chance they get. I probably should recognize them, considering how often I've shared a rink with the Wolves.

But I've never even been to a game.

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