Page 35 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

Lincoln’s grip on my shoulder tightened one more time before he finally let go. “You do that.”

I stood up, still feeling very confident. In both my plan for Sloane and the game.

One of the assistant coaches came in and started giving us a pregame speech.

I didn’t need one of those tonight, though. I was fully pumped up.

I’d never been more motivated to go out and kick ass in my life.

* * *

SLOANE

The arena buzzed with pregame energy as I sat in the stands, my eyes focused on the ice. Tyler was out there somewhere, warming up. Every so often I’d glance over, and Tyler looked as if he was…posing. Like he was trying to give fans a good angle for their pictures. Which was weird.

I really wasn’t paying much attention to Tyler, though.

I couldn’t stop staring athim.

Logan.

I’d come to the game with good intentions. I really had. I’d kissed Tyler in the hallway before the game. I’d sat in my seat like a good girl, smiling and clapping or waving every time he skated by.

But as soon as Logan skated out on the ice, all of those good intentions had disappeared. All of my focus was onhim—the wayhemoved, all power and control. He had that intensity, that raw focus, that I couldn’t tear myself away from. I could just imagine how all that focus and intensity would feel like if he centered them on…me.

The game hadn’t even started, but something in me had shifted. I wasn’t just acting anymore. I was…watching.

I was mentally cursing myself out when all of a sudden there was a commotion behind me. I glanced up, and before I knew it, a line of women, all dressed in Dallas Knights polos, were making their way down the stairs toward me. Each of them carried something—a bouquet of flowers, a basket, and…a jersey.

ALogan YorkDallas Knights jersey.

“Excuse me, miss,” one of the women said with a bright smile, holding out the red roses. “These are for you, from Logan York.”

My brain stalled. “What?”

Before I could even process it, another woman handed me the basket—snacks and even more flowers. Then came the jersey, Logan’s number forty-two emblazoned across the back, withYORKstitched across the top in bold letters.

I blinked, staring down at the jersey in disbelief. What the hell was happening?

I looked back toward the ice, still stunned, and there he was—Logan. He was standing there, holding his stick, his helmet pushed up on his head, grinning like a cat who’d just caught a canary.

And, way too hot.

When he caught my eye, he winked and blew me a kiss.

Heat flushed my face instantly, and there was a strange fluttering feeling in my chest. I could feel my skin burning. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I knew I was blushing. Badly.

“What the fuck is this?” I heard Tyler’s voice, full of anger, from the ice. I whipped my head back to see him, skating toward Logan, his face twisted in fury.

Logan didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, watching Tyler approach like he had all the time in the world. That same grin still on his face, daring Tyler to make a move.

“You think this is funny, York?” Tyler shouted, his voice carrying across the ice. His teammates noticed the tension and started to hover, probably knowing what was about to happen. “Are you really hitting on my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. That was a joke. I knew that was what we were pretending…but the fact that he could call me that with a straight face was laughable.

I ignored the fact that a part of me didn’t want him calling me that in front of Logan lest he get the wrong idea…

Logan didn’t move. He just shrugged, that grin widening as he casually waved in my direction. “Just thought she needed some snacks and a jersey. She’s looking a little out of place in the crowd.”

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