Page 71 of Power Play Pursuit

“Then it’s settled,” he says, taking me into his arms and holding me close. “Because the only woman I want in my arms is you.”

“I like the sound of that, but I don’t want you to change your entire behavior around your fans for me.” I nuzzle my face into his chest. “Even if it’s a little weird, it’s your public persona. I know you don’t see those women the way you see me.”

“Absolutely not,” he reassures me, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand. “There are things I’ll only ever do with you. Like the delicious kisses, the hand holding, the—”

“Wait, wait. Rewind a bit.” I grin. “What was the first one?”

He smiles, tightening his grip around me. “Delicious kisses?”

“Yes.” I nod eagerly. “Can I see what that looks like, please?”

His eyes shine. “Absolutely.”

He brushes his hands over my shoulders and up my neck, stopping when he's holding my face. We lock eyes, and everything glows brighter around us. I graze my fingertips over the light stubble of his jaw, and his lips capture mine in a delicious kiss that melts my heart into a puddle. If there’s one thing I can count on with my boyfriend, it’s his ability to deliver on all of his promises.

Epilogue

Beth Bowen

It’s been thirteen months since the Beaumont wedding, and James and I are still head over heels for each other. He flirts with me every single day—in fact, he implemented a mandatory flirting rule, so whether he’s here or on the road, I always get a few one-liners worthy of an eye roll.

We’re at the Raptors game tonight, and the arena is roaring with fans who are high on adrenaline. James hasn’t stopped hugging his fans—I know they need him as much as I do—but he’s giving them out more sparingly. He’s also switched to a one-arm side hug when it comes to women. Which is more than fine by me. Evenif I know James is devoted to me, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing so many women vying for his attention. Unfortunately, the boys lost the cup in the finals again last year. It was difficult to accept, even if Coach Martin reassured the team that if history repeats itself, the cup will be theirs again next season. I guess it wouldn’t be too bad, winning the Stanley Cup every other year.

The crowd goes wild as the puck drops, and the raptor sound plays over the speakers. It’s meant to go off just once, but there must be some kind of glitch, because it keeps going in a loop, distracting the players and making everyone laugh.

I search for James on the ice, and when I spot him, he’s grinning at me. It’s still his favorite sound, although he hasn’t really mastered it yet.

“That’s hilarious,” Hayley says, drying her tears.

We all grip our sides, laughing as it keeps repeating for at least another full minute before it finally stops, and the crowd erupts into cheers as the game starts back up.

“What is even that sound, anyway?” I ask. “It’s so strange. Doesn’t even sound like an animal.”

“I know,” Marissa laughs. “I’ll have to talk to my dad about that.”

“Actually,” Hayley says, looking at her phone. “It says here it’s a turtle mating noise.”

“What!” Marissa and I exclaim. No wonder it’s so hard to imitate. I can’t wait to tell James.

“That’s too funny,” Marissa says. “And they just blasted it on repeat for all of us to hear.”

Suddenly, a shattering noise and a general gasp in the crowd catches our attention. At first, we can’t tell what’s happening, but then we look up at the jumbotron and see one of the Raptors draped over the broken board surrounding the rink, his body limp, the glass shielding panels shattered around him.

My heart accelerates as I sit frozen, transfixed by the accident displayed on the screen. Then, I whip my head toward the rink, trying to spot James, but I don’t. I stand up, shuffling closer to the ice, craning my neck to see which player just crashed over the boards.

“It’s Hawthorne,” someone sitting above us shouts. I know it’s wrong, but I let out a relieved breath. The feeling lingers for only a second, because Caleb is a good friend, and I’m still worried about him.

I exchange a look with the girls, and I know they’re just as concerned.

“How did this even happen?” I breathe, still staring at the screen, which now shows a group of staff members helping to extract him. His upper body landed on the first row, where we’re seated, and medical staff are rushing onto the scene, but it turns out they’re not focused on Hawthorne, but on a woman who was hit by the impact.

“Strong hit, I think,” Marissa mumbles, eyes fixed on the screen. “I’m guessing they’ll review the play to see if it was a good hit or not.”

“It has to be a bad hit,” Hayley exclaims, shaking her head.

Marissa shrugs. “Not necessarily. Just strong. It put pressure on the glass, and it broke. It’s not the first time this has happened, and it won’t be the—uh-oh. They’re evacuating the woman. I hope she’s going to be okay.”

“Oh my,” I whisper as they’re lifting her onto a stretcher. She doesn’t seem conscious. Caleb is being checked by a doctor too, but he’s already sitting up, and from what I see on the screen, he only has a few cuts.

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