Page 10 of Puck it Off

"Maggie." Aubree whispers, "People are staring. What's gotten into you tonight?"

What has gotten into me? I'm a professional businesswoman in this town—I shouldn't be acting so foolish.

"I'm fine. It's nothing." I sit in my chair, throwing my arms across my chest, suddenly embarrassed at wearing the visiting team's jersey when a security guard approaches us.

"Ma'am, I've been instructed to escort you out of the arena if you don't take off that jersey and put this one on." The security guard hands me what looks to be an authentic Iowa Poseidon hockey jersey, just like the one Aubree is wearing, but without a number or name on it.

Not letting them think they've won this round, I stand and whip off the Chicago Kraken jersey I'm wearing, only to expose my large breasts, barely concealed by a light pink sheer lacey bra to the stunned gaze of not only the security guard but to Zander, Owen, and Reece who have returned to the spot in front of me on the ice with only the plexiglass separating us with smug smiles on their handsome faces.

Usually, I would think these were terrific seats, being this close to the ice and the players, but right now, I want to wipe the smirks right off their faces. With the cold air of the ice arena hitting my barely covered breasts, my nipples tighten into hard peaks, causing their smirks to change into lust.

Mission accomplished.

I yank the new Iowa Poseidon jersey over my head, unable to let them think they've won. I raise my middle finger at them, flipping them off, only to have them smile and skate back to their bench, waiting for the game to start.

Bastards.

I throw myself back in the seat with an unlady-like grunt. "I hate them." I glare at their retreating backs, accepting they might have won the battle, but the war is far from over.

Which honestly doesn't even make sense. Why do they care what team's jersey I wear, anyway? It was just a one-and-done last night.

"Do you know them?" Aubree's question shakes me out of my self-pity party.

I wiggle lower in my seat, realizing I might have made a bigger scene than intended. "I kind of slept with all three of them last night." I feel my face heat at my confession, which is ridiculous. If anyone understands the draw of having sex with three guys at the same time, it should be Aubree since that's her life now.

Lucky bitch.

"Maggie!" Aubree yells, making me wonder if I says the last part out loud.

Realizing I didn't, I try to do some damage control by quieting her down.

"Shh. Not so loud. I don't need everyone in town to know my business. It's bad enough they think I'm some crazy hippie girl who owns a yoga studio—they don't need to know about my sex life." I whisper, praying tonight will end sooner rather than later.

As luck would have it, Aubree drops the conversation about last night and concentrates on watching her guys play hockey.

I can't deny how sexy Zander, Owen, and Reece look out on the ice. I've been to a few of Poseidon's games since I moved to Iowa, but I've never been this close to the ice or known any of the players until now.

My panties dampen thinking about what we did last night as I watch every glide of their bodies moving across the ice. The way they can pivot on a dime.

Plus, I'm pretty sure the reason they kept slammed the other team's players against the plexiglass in front of us all night long was the universe's way of taunting me—showing me their sexy, sweaty faces up close, reminding me yet again of last night.

It's a miracle I made it the whole game without sliding out of my seat, given how wet everything is down there. It's a good thing the hockey jersey covers me from neck to knees.

Once the final horn sounds, I tell Aubree a quick goodbye and dash for the exit, only to be met with that same damn security guard. "Ma'am. I can't let you leave."

"Why the hell not?" My heart races, making me feel like a trapped animal. I have to get out of the arena before I'm forced to watch Zander, Owen, and Reece pick a lucky puck bunny to take home.

What if they share the same puck bunny? They said I was the first, but what if I wasn't, or now, they like it, and that's their thing?

Bile rises in my throat, and I almost throw up on the security guard as he grabs my elbow and tugs me through the crowd. "I've been instructed to deliver you to the locker room."

I can't do this.

Why would they want me to watch as they pick out their lovers for tonight? "I'm going to be sick." I place my free hand over my mouth and dry heave at the thought.

Shocked, the security guard drops my elbow, allowing me to escape into the crowd. I weave through the crush of fans celebrating the Poseidon win as tears fall from my eyes.

I don't know them, so why does it hurt so bad?

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