Page 19 of Icing the Enemy

I explain meeting her at a truck stop, taking her to Bryce’s Wedding, the kiss, and the police station.

She coughs, and I realize she’s not out of the woods with her condition. “Excuse me. Well, you’re probably not going to like what I have to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. I like that girl. She obviously felt like she had no other option. Give her a break. Sometimes people just need a break. And ask her why she took your truck. Her answer might make you think differently.”

“I love you, Mamaw. Thanks for listening.”

“Love you too. Now don’t let this one get away.”

“She’s not the one, Mamaw. Call me if you need anything. I still have some time when I can fly home.”

Mamaw laughs, straining and rasping from smoking for thirty years. “Don’t worry about me. Live your life.”

When we hang up, I consider her words and the punch behind them.

Becca calls, wanting to know why I’ve been photographed at the police station, so I run through the events from meeting her at Buc-ee’s to stealing my truck.

True to form, Becca leaps to my defense with unwavering loyalty, only to follow it up with a stern lecture about my tendency to trust too easily.

Finally, I drift to sleep and what the fuck happens? I dream about Oak. Asleep for two hours, and I fucking dream about the most beautiful thief this side of the Mississippi, riding me, then going to the dog park with Dixie.

Dixie.

I call the police to inform them to let her go. I’m not pressing charges for now.

Dixie needs to be fed and walked. Not to mention, Dixie probably has as much anxiety as I do right now. King Cavalier Spaniel mixes tend to have separation anxiety and Dixie needs her mom.

Practice starts next week, and I need to push one Oakley James out of my mind.

Easier said than done.

CHAPTER EIGHT

oakley

“Okay,girl. Fill. Me. In. You were spotted with Corbin Shearer?” Jennie Rae asks. “You realize the gossip magazines are having a field day, right?" She waves her hand, barely containing her excitement. “Have you seen this?”

I shift uncomfortably, trying to play it cool, even as my mind races, knowing he can’t stand the sight of me.

She taps her phone with her fingertips and hands it to me. There are pictures of Corbin and me walking into the hotel. A selfie we took at the wedding and a candid of us dancing. But in big bold letters, it says, “Swipe to see the most shocking photos.”

Oh fuck.

“How did they get these pictures from street cameras?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Gossip mags gotta have gossip.” She chuckles. “He’s a famous hockey player. I’m sure they paybigmoney for shots of him.”

The first photo is of me by myself in Corbin’s F-150 and is time stamped 12:06 a.m. It’s titled:

Why is she in a hurry to leave Corbin Shearer?

We can only imagine.

The next image is me at the bus stop, leaving his vehicle with Dixie.

A bus? Really?

The last one is him walking out of the police station.

Nashville Notes Hockey Star's Shocking

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