Page 15 of Spring Break with a Slap Shot

"Thanks, guys." Marina’s smile is genuine again. "Let's make tonight count."

I pull Marina off to the side alone for a minute. The thought of her leaving weighs heavily on me.

“What am I supposed to do? Go home too?” I ask.

“No, no! Stay. Enjoy your vacation. I’m certain that Dakota will watch after you and make your time here worthwhile.” She winks at me with a big smile.

Chapter 10-Dakota

The door clicks shut behind Marina, and I'm left standing there with Harmony's eyes locked on me. Without missing a beat, I stride over to the gift bag I had delivered earlier today and hand it to her. She peaks inside and then pulls out the black and red jersey.

"Would you like to come to my game tonight and wear that?" I say, nudging my chin towards the jersey now draped over her arms. "It's like a good luck charm, you know?"

She unfolds it, the number twelve is large on the back along with Miles embossed at the top, and I admire her holding it. The way she looks at it makes my chest tighten.

"Oh my God! I’d love to go. Thank you!" she exclaims as she bounces on her toes.

"Uh, I was thinking you could sit with the other players' girlfriends at the game. They're a riot; you'll fit right in." I flash her my best winning smile.

"Girlfriends, huh?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Yep, they've got their own VIP squad in their box seats going on. You won't miss a thing from up there." I lean back against the couch, trying to seem as casual as possible while my pulse kicks up a notch.

"Okay, count me in," she says, and slips the jersey over her head.

"Fucking hell, you look so damn good in that jersey.” I shake my head, knowing that I don’t have any time to take her back to my bed and fuck her with my jersey on. “So, I'll catch you after the game then," I say, leaning in close. My lips brush hers, lingering just long enough to make a promise without words. Her mouth curves into a smile against mine, and that's all the confirmation I need.

Pulling away with a wink, I grab my gear and head towards the rink, leaving Harmony standing there in my jersey. It swallows her slender frame. The number on the back is mine, and now, so is she – at least for tonight.

***

The pre-game chaos is a blur of motion and adrenaline, but through the noise, my mind keeps replaying that kiss, brief as it was. It's a spark that's got me burning from the inside out.

As I take a lap, I scan the VIP boxes at the top of the stands, searching for that cluster of women, each in their man’s jersey. Found her.

Miss Green Eyes.

Our eyes meet across the distance, and it's just me and Harmony, with her practical ponytail and those eyes that see right through my bullshit.

She's not cheering or waving frantically like the others. Instead, there's this small, knowing smile playing on her lips, as if she's privy to a secret that no one else in the arena has caught onto yet. She’s right. I'm not just playing for the win; I'm playing for her.

I tap my stick against the ice, and with one last glance at Harmony, I turn my focus to the game. Although, her wearing my name on her back and looking at me like I'm more than just a guy on skates, lights a fire in me.

The game is ready to start. I'm at the faceoff circle, stick in hand, eyes locked on the puck. The ref's arm drops, and everything else fades into the periphery.

The puck skitters across the ice, and we're off. Blades carve into the frozen surface with every turn. Asher sweeps the puck from their center, and Kaleb is already bolting down the rink.

I'm right behind him, cutting through defenders like they're nothing. The cold air burns my lungs as I suck in breaths to keep my legs pumping.

"Lucky!" Ryder's voice cuts through the crowd noise, and I pivot just as Kaleb sends a pass towards me. There's that split second when time hiccups, when the puck glides toward my stick, and I know this is it.

I lean into the shot, the stick flexing under the tension before it releases energy into the rubber disk. It's a slapshot straight out of the textbook, and the goalie barely has time to blink before the puck slams into the back of the net. Goal lights flash, and the siren wails.

"HELL YES!" I throw my head back, arms raised in triumph as my teammates swarm me with pats on the helmet and shoulder bumps. The crowd erupts louder, if that's even possible. I tilt my head up to find her—Harmony.

She's standing now, clapping, that small, knowing smile still there. Scoring feels good, hell, it feels great—but Harmony watching me do it? That's a whole new level of pride.

"Nice shot, Lucky!" Asher shouts, grinning like a maniac.

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