Page 10 of The Pucking Arrangement

Close it.

Open itone last timebecause I’m only human, and those abs deserve proper appreciation.

Then—another ping. A new comment on my latest video.

HockeyBabe99: OMG did anyone else see Sokolov’s cello celly tonight?!

The replies flood in:

YESSSS SO CUTE

Wait, does he play??

No, but the cellist in the family box sure caught his attention.

That wink tho.

I slam my laptop shut so hard it nearly rebounds off my desk.

But the damage is done.

The image of him is burned into my retinas—both the magazine spread and the way he looked at me tonight. All heat and promise andwant.

I flop onto my bed, but that’s worse. Because now I’m thinking about his hands. On me.In bed.Those huge, powerful hands that could probably span my entire waist. The way his accent wraps around words like he’s tasting them.

How he’d sound growling commands in Russian.

My phone buzzes again.

[Sophie]: So, when are you seeing him again?

[Me]: I don’t know. Suppose I’m not. It would be very distracting

[Sophie]: Liar

[Me]: I mean it. No single dads for me. Especially not my brother’s teammate

[Jenna]: He clearly has a thing for cellists

[Sophie]: He scored a goal just to flirt with you

[Jenna]: He scored a goal and asked you out on a date. In front of 20,000 people

[Me]: Wait—did he actually ask me out? Do I need to call him now?!

[Sophie]: Yes

[Jenna]: He definitely asked you out

[Jessica]: Wait until he makes the next move

[Me]: Ugh. I’m going to bed

[Sophie]: To dream about Sokolov?

[Me]: Can you blame me?

I chuck my phone across the room, but I still hear their laughter in my head.

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