Page 6 of The Enemy Face Off

Whoisshe, and why haven't I been able to get her out of my mind since the night we met?

I wish I knew more about her than the few scraps of information I've managed to scrounge together.

All I know is that she's friends with Fraser's girlfriend Evie and Culver's best friend and soon-to-be girlfriend—because come on, it's so obvious—Hannah. She works in a bookstore and is a total bookworm. Big surprise. She's feisty, smart, and not afraid to serve it to anyone, least of all me.

And she's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.

The sleek shine of her jet-black bob perfectly frames her pale, flawless face, accentuating her large, expressive hazel eyes, and her full red lips look so soft, so inviting, so irresistibly kissable. When they're not otherwise occupied firing quips at me, that is.

She's wearing teal-green athletic shorts, a fitted, charcoal-gray hoodie over a white T-shirt, and running shoes. An outfit that's meant to be sporty, but wearing it, Beth looks nothing short of mesmerizing. The material clings to her curves in all the right ways and seeing the smooth skin of her legs does something to me.

"Cat got your tongue, hey?" Beth guesses with a self-satisfied smirk, but my silence has nothing to do with being unable to come up with a reply—contrary to what she probably thinks, Iactually do have some brain cells—and everything to do with being completely and utterly captivated by her.

And, okay, checking her out slightly.

The sad truth is, she's right.

Not about my manhood. She'sverywrong about that.

But her comment about the puck bunnies.

I'm not saying that all women are looking to hook up with hockey players so they can tick them off like items on a grocery list, but I am saying that I've attracted more than my fair share of those who have.

I don't know why.

I'm naturally a quiet person. I only open up to people once I feel comfortable around them. That usually takes me some time. Even around my teammates who are the closest people I have in my life, I still come across a little…gruff. Guarded. Scowly, but that's just my face.

I would've thought my grumpy, less-than-inviting demeanor would be a warning sign to women, some sort of red flag for them to stay away. But nope, it seems the grouchier and more aloof I appear, the more the media incorrectly depicts me as a player, the more some women are drawn to it.

Well, apart from one woman who's currently glaring at me, waiting for me to talk.

"I don't want you to fawn all over me, Beth." I speak in a lower tone than I normally do. "But I would like a chance for you to…get to know me."

Her large eyes narrow into a squint. "And why would I want to get to know you?"

"Because, well, isn't that what people do? Get to know each other and maybe become friends?"

"I have enough friends." She shoots the puck back a tad more aggressively than needed.

"You can never have too many friends, though, right?"

I attempt a smile, but it's been a while since I've cracked one, and my cheek muscles have no idea what to do. There's a good-to-high probability I currently look like a confused chipmunk.

Beth scrunches her nose. "What are you doing?"

"Smiling," I answer, then without moving my lips too much, add, "Is it working?"

"I'll just say it's a good thing there are no kids here, or they'd be running away in fear."

My attempt at a smile is replaced by a genuine laugh.

For a second—forlessthan a second—Beth's demeanor shifts and she softens, but then she zips her hoodie all the way up and is back to frowning at me.

"What's wrong now?" I ask. "I've stopped smiling."

"Nothing." Her eyes narrow even more, and I swear it's like she's got X-ray vision and is peering into my soul. "You're just…nothing."

"I'm nothing?"

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