Page 46 of Confessions of a Former Puck Bunny

Refusing would lead to an argument I didn’t want to have. “Sure. I just need a minute. Name a place and I’ll meet you there.”

He hesitated, and I suspected he was about to tell me we should ride together, or that he’d wait right where he was while I wrapped things up here. But by some miracle, he told me to meet him at the steak and seafood place we usually ate at whenever he was in town.

As soon as I was sure he was out of sight, I turned toward where I’d seen Lindsay last.

Just in time to see her retreating figure.

I sprinted through the crowd, doing my best not to bump into people, and failing a couple of times. Finally, I caught up to her. “Lindsay. Wait up.”

She spun around, and I stepped forward and kissed her, the way I’d dreamed about doing the second I walked out of the locker room.

It was like kissing a statue.

“Thanks for coming,” I said. “Sorry it took me so long to get to you.”

She crossed her arms. “I feel like a puck bunny again, standing here waiting for you to just please look my way.”

I grabbed her hand and tugged it free. “Waiting for me hardly makes you a puck bunny, and you know I don’t care about that.”

“Icare. I won’t go back. It was hard enough to come to the game, and…” Her voice faltered, and she shook her head.

“Well, I appreciate you crossing into my world for one night to watch me play.” I swiped her hair off her face and rested my hand on the side of her neck. “What did you think of the game, anyway?”

For a couple of seconds I thought she’d hold on to the frustration she was clearly feeling, but then she cracked, a smile touching her lips. “It was amazing. You’re amazing. The way you slam into those guys, and that turnover you forced—”

I pressed my lips to hers, unable to go another second without kissing her. She had no idea how badly I needed to hear that—I didn’t even realize it until she’d said it. It was so damn nice to havesomeonethink I played a good game. Especially this someone, with her big brown eyes and alluring curves and sassy mouth.

I lowered my forehead to hers and memorized her scent and the way she felt in my arms so I could hold on to the memory through the crappy night I was about to have with my dad. “I wish I could take you to the Quad to dance with you and properly celebrate, but I have to go meet my dad for dinner.”

She reached up and circled her hands around my forearms, like she needed to center herself in me as badly as I did in her. “It’s fine. The Quad’s not really my scene anyway.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow for paintball, though, okay?”

I worried she’d tell me she’d changed her mind, but then she nodded. She ran her arms up to my shoulders and slipped them behind my neck, bringing her body flush with mine. Then she kissed me, sucking my lower lip into her mouth and making me groan. “Just so you know,” she whispered against my lips, “I plan on taking you down.”

“Just so you know, if you’re doing the taking, I’m down.”

She rolled her eyes, but she laughed.

One more kiss and I reluctantly let her go. A crazy part of me almost suggested she come along—screw what my dad would think.

I reminded myself that having her meet Mom hadn’t exactly gone well, and she was the nicer of the two.

No, I’d have to suffer through one night without Lindsay, and since I didn’t have that many left—especially with the blur of one tournament that would lead to the next looming ahead—that tasted especially bitter.

But tomorrow after that paintball game, I was going to do whatever it took to get her all to myself. Then I’d make sure to make every second of that time count.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ryder

Dinner with my dad last night drained me, and I was looking forward to letting loose and forgetting about hockey for a while. As much as I loved it, sometimes it was nice to think about something else—anything else. Or maybe that was just an effect of spending three hours over dinner discussing strategies and the many, many ways I could improve. There were enough that I began to wonder why a college coach would even start me in the first place.

Dad also informed me that he’d put in a few calls to scouts, and if I played my cards right, and played better than last night—obviously—maybe I’d have a chance to be drafted into the NHL now and just forget about the rest of college.

I didn’t bother mentioning that I wanted to finish out my time at BC and earn my math degree, and the NHL could wait. That was probably a stupid thought. Millions of dollars and a guaranteed spot versus finishing a degree I might never use?

Getting drafted might finally get Dad off my back. It’d get me that much closer, anyway.That wasifI was even drafted, and that was a big if. Not sure why my brain wouldn’t stop spinning on it.

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