Page 20 of Hexes and Exes

“I was talking to myself,” I grumble, and he visibly shivers. I don’t know why he’s scared of me; we’re on the same team. The same broom hockey team, because Agatha Fitzsimon signed me up to participate and told me she made a donation in my name. If I didn’t play, I’d be denying the needy children of Mystic Hollows hundreds of dollars that could feed them or buy school supplies.

She’s diabolical.

“Let’s get this game started so we can be done with it,” I growl, taking in the mostly teenaged players. There are a few men and women in their twenties, but I think I might be the oldest person out here, which is both insulting and irritating.

“Trying to intimidate your competition because you don’t have the physical prowess to beat them on the field…court…lake. Whatever, that’s just sad, Bram.” Ava slides on the ice, herarms windmilling. Her jab would have been decent if not for her floundering over her words and nearly falling on her ass.

I grab her elbow to steady her, and we both start sliding. Fuck, I’m going to break multiple bones out here, aren’t I?

“I see how it is.” Ava smirks in my face. “Trying to take me down before the game even starts.” She’s wearing one of those hunting caps with the flaps, but they’re tied up instead of hanging down over her ears. Other than that, I can’t tell what she has on. She’s pulling on a yellow jersey over her puffy coat that’s zipped up to her chin and stops mid-thigh and her boots go almost to her knee. There’s a sliver of black legging visible.

I bend down so I can look her in the eye. “I could have you on your back in two seconds if I tried.”

A loud cough interrupts. I pull back to find the game’s organizer holding out two brooms, one for me and one for Ava.

“We’ll see who ends up flat on their back.” Ava swats at my feet, but then loses her balance and practically does the splits before she steadies herself. “Watch your back, Blackthorn. I’m coming for you.”

“Trust me, you absolutely would be coming for me.”

“Whoa. Nice.” The pimply teenager chuckles and punches my arm. Ava’s gaping at me. I’m sweating. It’s eleven degrees out. Why the fuck am I sweating?

A whistle blows.

“Here’re the rules. If you have a jersey, your goal is down there between the two Coke cans. If you don’t have a jersey, your goal is the garbage can and traffic cone. First team to five wins. Don’t kill each other.” The whistle blows again and everyone takes off as if they’ve played professionally for years. Ava blows me a kiss and then runs into the fray.

There’s a puck somewhere in the mix, but all I see are people whacking each other with their brooms. Two kids have turnedthem into swords and the clack of wood cracking is almost drowned out by the shouting and laughter.

“Big dude,” someone shouts, and the puck flies across the ice toward me. I sweep my broom and fling it toward our goal, then take off running after it. Except it’s more like a gliding shuffle. There’s nothing dignified about this game. The puck ends up sliding back toward me, but before I can hit it, Ava rams into my side. Her body slips in front of me, and when she slaps the puck with her broom, her ass rams into my dick.

“Fuck.” I hook an arm around her waist. “You want to play dirty?” I haul her body tighter to mine. I contemplate dragging her down to the ice, in front of dozens of teenagers and who knows how many others watching the game. A sliver of common sense prevails, and I spin her away from me. She coasts on the ice, but keeps on her feet. With a snarl at me, she turns and chases after the puck.

There’s a pileup of bodies on the ice. I’m not even sure how that happened. The tangle of humanity is full of giggling, squirming teenagers, and no one is trying very hard to untangle. The whistle blows and the game organizer, who is apparently also the referee, shouts at everyone to get up.

“We’ll do another puck drop.”

Somehow, Ava and I find ourselves facing off against each other.

“Your ass is mine,” Ava taunts, low enough that only I can hear.

“I think we both know that if anyone’s getting their ass pounded tonight, it’s not me.”

“Shit, this guy is my hero,” one of the teens whispers.

Well, fuck, I guess we aren’t as quiet as I thought we were.

Ava narrows her eyes. “Try it. See how well that ends for you.”

The whistle blows again, and the puck drops. We both dive for it. Ava’s body launches into mine with so much force I drop my broom. Shit. We’re going down. I wrap my arms around her, palming the back of her head as if she’s the one who’s about to land on the ice. When my head connects with the frozen surface, the crack is so loud there’s a collective gasp from our audience.

“Shit. No. Bram. Fuck. I’m sorry. So sorry.” Ava’s body is flush on top of mine, but she can’t move because I’ve got her clamped tight in my arms.

“Stop squirming,” I groan.

“Let me go so I can check your head. Or your eyes. We should probably get a doctor. Let me go find someone. You need ice.”

“I’m already on the ice. Just stay still for one minute.” I close my eyes and take stock of my body. My head throbs where I hit the ice, but that’s not the only part of my body aching. Even with layers of clothing between us, I don’t want Ava to move. There’s something about her in my arms, laying on top of me that feels fucking incredible.

Gentle fingers push my stocking cap off my head and thread through my hair. The groan I release is quickly shut down with a hiss when she finds the growing bump on the back of my head.

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