Page 147 of Dirty Pucker

My heartbeat kicks up, thrumming in my chest. I still can’t believe this goddess is my girlfriend.

I head over to her. She turns around and flashes a gorgeous smile. She puts down her phone and runs her hand up my chest.

Those stunning blue eyes sparkle as she gazes up at me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m not messing up your pre-game routine if I give you a kiss, am I?” she asks in a teasing voice.

I shake my head. “Nope. Getting a kiss from you is the most important part of my routine, actually.”

She laughs before kissing me. Around us, fans cheer and whistle.

“Holy shit! Did you see that? Dirty Del and the social media girl!”

“I knew it! I knew they were together!”

“I thought that was a rumor. They really are a couple!”

When we break apart, Ingrid is chuckling. She waves at the fans around us. I raise my stick at them.

She turns to me. “Our kiss is going to end up on social media. Hope that’s okay.”

“Hell yeah, it’s okay. I want the whole world to know you’re mine, sweetheart.”

Emotion flashes in her soft blue eyes. She cups her hands around my face and kisses me again. “How are you feeling?” she asks, her tone soft.

“Good. A little nervous. It’s the first home game since…you know.”

She nods. She knows just how anxious I’ve been about playing ever since my arrest and the sports media circus that followed—that’s still going on. Coverage of me and my family has dialed back a bit since our loss to LA, but it’s still trending on social media and sports news.

A second later, Ingrid looks past my shoulder. The softest, sweetest smile appears on her beautiful face.

“Turn around,” she says.

When I turn around, I see some young fans nearby holding a sign that says, “We’ve got your back, Del!”

Warmth pools in the center of my chest and my nerves begin to fade.

I smile at the kids holding the sign. Then I grab a couple of pucks from the ledge along with a pen, sign them, and toss them to the kids. They squeal and jump up and down in excitement.

Ingrid motions for me to pose with them. I lean toward the glass and she takes a photo. She tells the kids that she’ll post the photo to the Bashers social media accounts. They look like they’re about to explode with excitement.

I turn back to Ingrid.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. The fans love you,” she says.

I rest my hand on her hip and pull her close. I kiss her.

“You’d better get out there,” she says.

I hit the ice, feeling energized. Adrenaline buzzes through me like it always does before a game.

A few months ago, that riled-up feeling would lead to dirty hits and nonstop fighting on the ice.

But it’s different now. I’m not going to do that tonight.

I look over at Ingrid as she works. She sees me and smiles.

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