Page 31 of The Pucking Player

I catch her eye over Alan’s shoulder and shoot her a subtle thumbs-up. She glances my way, a quick wink accompanying a sly smile that sends a bolt of heat straight through me. Damn, she’s something else.

After a while, Alan spots someone across the room and excuses himself with a promise to “catch up properly” later.

“Well, that was productive,” I say, turning to Sophie.

She beams, a flush of excitement coloring her cheeks. “I can’t believe he just offered me an internship. It could be an amazing opportunity.”

“I had no doubt you’d charm the pants off him.”

She laughs softly. “Is that your metric for success?”

“Depends on the context,” I reply with a wink.

As we move toward the dining area, the ballroom transforms into a scene straight out of a fairy tale. Tables draped in lustrous linens stretch out before us, each adorned with centerpieces of cascading flowers and flickering candles that cast a warm, golden glow. Crystal chandeliers hang like floating stars from the vaulted ceiling.

“Fancy enough for you?” I murmur, leaning in so only she can hear.

She glances around. “I feel like I should leave a glass slipper behind when we go.”

I pull out her chair, the gesture earning me a grateful smile. “Well, Cinderella, let’s hope this ball lasts a bit longer.I’m quite enjoying having the most stunning woman in the room on my arm.”

She rolls her eyes, but the blush that blooms across her cheeks betrays her. “You and your silver tongue.”

“Just speaking the truth,” I say, taking my seat beside her.

As the first course is served, I notice Sophie’s attention snagged by the older gentleman seated on her other side. Her eyes light up with recognition.

“Dr. Goldstein?” she says, her voice tinged with awe. “I attended your lecture on advancements in pediatric oncology at NYU last semester. It was absolutely riveting.”

The man turns, his bushy eyebrows arching in surprise. “Well, I’ll be. Yes, I remember you! You asked that excellent question about immunotherapy applications in young patients.”

I suppress a grin. Of course she did.

Sophie’s face radiates enthusiasm. “Your work has been so influential in my decision to pursue pediatric medicine. It’s an honor to meet you again.”

And just like that, they’re off, delving into a conversation rich with terms like “cytokine storms” and “CAR T-cell therapy.” To me, it’s a foreign language, but watching her animated expressions and the passionate way she engages is nothing short of mesmerizing.

I lean back, content to observe. Her hands gesture elegantly as she speaks, her eyes sparkling with intellect and curiosity. It’s like watching a maestro conduct a symphony.

“Lost in translation?” a soft voice asks beside me.

I turn to find a woman, blonde and impeccably dressed, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“Something like that,” I admit.

“Medical jargon,” she says knowingly. “My husband’s a surgeon. I’ve learned to nod and smile.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but I have to say, it’s impressive. She’s...impressive.”

The woman follows my gaze back to Sophie, a knowing smile dancing on her lips. “That she is. You’re a lucky man.”

I glance back at Sophie, who’s laughing at something Dr. Goldstein said, her eyes crinkling at the corners. A warmth spreads in my chest. “Yeah,” I agree quietly, “I am.”

After what feels like both an eternity and a blink, the lights dim slightly as the band begins to play a slow, sultry tune. The soft strains of a saxophone weave through the air, wrapping around us like a velvet ribbon.

I decide I’ve been patient long enough.

Rising from my seat, I extend my hand toward her. “May I have this dance, angel?”

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