Page 34 of The Pucking Player

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

Focus on getting home safely. You can dissect your feelings for the impossibly charming hockey star later.

As we crawl along the snow-covered road, I silently pray that we make it back to campus in one piece. But with the storm intensifying and Liam’s presence wreaking havoc on my concentration, I have a feeling we’re in for one wild ride.

Suddenly, Liam takes a turn. “Uh, pretty sure my dorm isn’t this way, unless the blizzard magically teleported it.”

“Trust me,” he says with that infuriatingly hot smirk of his.

Great. Because trusting a guy I barely know in the middle of a snowpocalypse is totally on my bucket list.

We pull up to what looks like a picturesque Victorian house, complete with gingerbread trim and warm, glowing windows. A sign, barely visible through the swirling snow, reads “Rosewood Bed & Breakfast.”

Oh boy.

Before I can fully process what’s happening, Liam’s out of the car. “Stay put,” he yells over the howling wind, and then he’s gone, swallowed up by the swirling snow.

And just like that, I’m alone in the car, surrounded by a whiteout that makes everything beyond the windows look like static on an old TV. The wind rocks the car, and every creak and groan has me jumping like a caffeinated squirrel.

I check my phone for the millionth time. No signal. Because of course not. Why would I need to contact the outside world in an emergency?

As the seconds tick by, my imagination goes into overdrive. What if Liam slipped and hit his head? What if he got lost in the three feet between the car and the front door? What if this is actually the setup for a horror movie and I’m about to become the clueless victim who gets axe-murdered by a deranged innkeeper?

Okay, deep breaths, Sophie. You’re a future doctor for crying out loud. Act like it.

But as another gust of wind shakes the car, I wish Liam would hurry back. Not because I miss him or anything.

It’s just really cold in here.

Just as I’m contemplating the pros and cons of turning into a human popsicle, I see a figure emerging from the white void. Liam’s back, looking like a snow-covered Greek god.

He taps on the window, grinning as if he just won the Stanley Cup. “Good news, angel, we’ve got shelter for the night!”

Liam swings open the car door, and before I can even unbuckle my seatbelt, he’s taking over and scooping me up into his arms. I let out a surprised squeak, my heart racing.

“Liam!” I protest, my voice embarrassingly breathy. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

He just grins, holding me tighter against his chest. “No can do, Sophie. It’s like an ice rink out here, and I’ve got way more experience navigating that than you do.”

I want to argue, but the feeling of being in his arms is...well, let’s just say, it’s very distracting. I can feel the solid warmth of his body through our coats, and his face is so close I can see the snowflakes caught in his eyelashes.

It’s not fair for anyone to look this good in a blizzard.

As Liam carries me toward the house, I try to ignore the way my stomach is doing backflips. This is just Liam being practical, I tell myself. It doesn’t mean anything.

But then why does it feel so...right?

We reach the front porch where an older couple waits for us, looking like they just finished filming a Vermont maple syrup commercial, all rosy cheeks and matching sweaters, radiating the kind of warmth that makes you crave hot chocolate and homemade cookies.

“Oh, you poor dears!” the woman exclaims, ushering us inside. “Come in, come in! You must be freezing!”

Liam sets me down gently in the entryway, his hands lingering on my waist for just a moment longer than necessary. Or am I imagining that?

“I’m Martha,” the woman says, already helping me out of my coat. “And this is my husband, George. We’re so glad you found us in this dreadful storm!”

George nods, clapping Liam on the shoulder. “Smart thinking, son. It’s not fit for man nor beast out there tonight.”

As Martha fusses over us, I catch Liam’s eye. He winks at me, and I feel a blush creeping up my neck that has nothing to do with the change in temperature.

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