Page 78 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Damn, I can’t help but love seeing the spark of jealousy in her eyes.

“I’m not interested in the puck bunnies. Sure, I went out with a few at the beginning of my season with the Huskies, but that was ten years ago. Not to mention that I quickly realized they were more interested in bragging rights for being with a hockey player than getting to know me. And they always said whatever they thought would keep me interested.” A strand of hair falls across Fallon’s face, and without thinking, I tuck it behind her ear. “When we met, you didn’t hold back your opinion of me, and your honesty was refreshing.”

Fallon taps her chin, like she’s contemplating her answer. “Considering you’re playing, I better go. Wouldn’t want to give any of the puck bunnies any ideas that they might have a shot with you tonight. Plus, I can’t pass up the chance to get the inside scoop from Presley,” she adds, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I do have one request.”

She tilts her head, squinting at me. “Which is?”

“I’ll be right back,” I say, not answering her question outright before exiting the room.

I stride past the living room where Cat is busy clawing the base of the couch. He doesn’t even look my way, immune to my disapproving glare. I’ll have to research how to curb his appetite for ruining my furniture or risk my sanity trying to coexist with a four-legged menace.

When I get to my office, I take down the jersey hanging on the wall and pull it from the frame. Fallon was the last one to wear it, so it’s fitting that she has it on tonight.

As soon as I step inside the kitchen, her gaze lands on the jersey in my hand, and she backs away like she’s seen a ghost.

“What are you doing with that?” She gestures to the jersey.

“I want you to wear it.”

Her eyes flicker with uncertainty. “Why?”

So everyone knows you belong with me.

“A hockey game isn’t the same if you’re not wearing a jersey,” I murmur, moving in closer. “And the only one you’ll wear from now on is mine.”

She eyes it suspiciously. “How many other girls have worn it?”

“Only you.”

And if I can help it, she’ll be the last.

The Mavericks host a monthly charity hockey game, bringing together players, coaches, and donors on the ice for a good cause. I look forward to it every time, and there’s nothing like hitting the ice with a crowd cheering me on from the stands.

Tonight feels extra special because Fallon is here.

My skates carve into the ice as I speed down the left side of the rink, eyes locked on the puck in the neutral zone as Zach, one of my teammates, sends it toward the boards. I power through, leaning into the turn, my muscles burning with the effort. The noise in the arena fades into the background as my focus sharpens.

The opposing defenseman isn’t giving me much space, closing in fast on my line. But I spot a split-second opening for a pass to Aleksandr, who’s playing center. With a quick flick of my stick, I tap the puck through a tight gap between the defender’s skates. His head snaps toward the pass, leaving him scrambling to recover.

I don’t hang around to see if it lands, already charging toward the net. When the puck hits Aleksandr’s stick, I catch the tilt of his head, his trademark signal. He fakes the goalie out, pulling him to one side, and like I expected, he passes me the puck. I don’t waste a second taking my shot, sending the puck flying through the air, landing at the back of the net.

Aleksandr cheers, pumping his fist. “Hell yes.”

I slam the boards with my stick, the roar of the fans echoing in my ears. Usually when I play, I feed off the crowd’s energy. However, tonight, my attention goes straight to Fallon, standing in the owner’s suite, cheering with my sister.

She must sense me watching, because her gaze meets mine; she flashes me a broad smile that lights up her face. Possessiveness hits me like a wave. Nothing beats the sight of her in my jersey. She might not know it yet, but she’ll be wearing it at every game from now on.

Aleksandr slaps me on the shoulder, catching my attention. “We have a game to win, old man. You can make googly eyes at your woman later.”

I like the sound of someone else calling her mine.

Now if only I could make it a reality.

I let out a low laugh, drawing a puzzled glance from Aleksandr. He’s used to my gruff demeanor, not this lighter side. But between the rush of the game, and the sight of Fallon in my jersey, adrenaline surges through me. I’m more than ready to finish this game so I can go to her.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Presley says with a smile.

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