Page 4 of No Promises, No Lies

His smug smile fades into a frown.

I keep going. “Maybe if you spent less time in the penalty box, you’d learn a thing or two aboutfinesseon the ice.” With that, I shove past him. And this time he lets me.

“It’s been a pleasure.”

Not.

I feel his stare on my back the entire way back to the locker room.

3

HOCKEY AND CHILL

RORY

Ilet out a groan when I see the time. Seeing as how practice has already started, I already missed out on the pre-practice rush. Every minute wasted is less money in my pocket.

I rip the skates off my feet, not bothering to take off my tights as I slide my jeans on over them. Rushing now, I throw on a sweatshirt and sling my bag over my shoulder while practically running through the door.

This time, the pathway is clear of goonish hockey players; the Breakers’ practice now fully underway. No one even spares me a glance as I rush for the stairs.

The arena floor itself is closed off to fans. Only the upper level stands and viewing deck by the bar are open to fans. In my hurry, I trip up the stairs, not missing the barely-suppressed snort that sounds out from behind me.

“Not a word,” I growl venomously, without sparing a glance back, well aware of who’s following me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Alexei replies, though I can clearly hear the amusement in his tone.

Sighing irritably, I continue up the stairs, not learning my lesson and taking them two at a time.

By the time I push through the double doors, I’m nearly thirty minutes late for my shift. I walk out into a throng of girls that’s encircling the only access down to the lower levels from the main concourse.

Two bored looking security guards stand to either side of the doors, keeping the puck bunny wannabes on the second level and far away from the players below.

A dozen sets of eyes fly to me when I appear through those forbidden double doors. Jealousy gleaming in their baby blues and greens. When I feel Alexei close in behind me, those suspicious glares disappear. Oh, they forget meentirelyand evaporate into flirty smiles and fluttering eyelashes.

Annoyed, I push through the vapid little leeches lying in wait; all hoping to snare a player on their way out of the rink.

Alexei is no hockey player, but could easily pass as one. The man stands over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a defined chest, and thick arms. He’s built like an athlete. But far prettier than any I’ve ever seen.

I leave my body guard behind to fend off the puck bunnies and dart into the Chill Zone.

There’s not an open spot to be found along the bar as I casually slip behind it while shooting Elle an apologetic look. She’s neck-deep in pouring shots of Jack.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I rush out, feeling terrible about leaving her alone. Quickly, I stash my bag under the bar, not wanting to take any additional time to stow it properly in the back room.

She looks up, her hazel eyes finding me with a broad smile on her face. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it!” Elle is on the Belles skating team too and all too familiar with how Karina Valgova runs her sessions.

My eyes scan the packed bar. “Where do you need me?”

Elle’s focused back on her task, but cocks her head toward an empty beer glass cued up under the tap. “A lager for the green flannel,” nodding again, this time in the opposite direction.

I spot the man in the aforementioned green flannel, eyeing the two of us curiously from further down the bar.

“On it.” I start for the glass, but she hisses at me under her breath, looking pointedly at my sweatshirt.

“Shit. Right.” I duck back under the bar, feeling for my bag, reaching in to pull out the blasted jersey but coming up empty. Besides my skates, an extra bottle of water and meds, the bag is empty.

My face betrays my blunder and Elle sighs, “There’s an extra jersey in the back.”

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