Page 40 of Anatomy of a Player

I felt a sense of loss at just the thought of missing that touching story, not to mention that relaxing hour and a half with Hudson that involved his dinosaur confession.

I smiled, already planning on casually dropping it into our conversation today. My steps lightened, and I took what felt like my first real breath all day. While I thought the crowd had been thick at the entryway, it was nothing compared to the one I was being pushed into, useless to fight the stream of people trying to get to…whatever was in front of us.

Despite my attempts to keep a small bubble of personal space, people bumped into me from behind, making me bump into the person in front of me. That breath I took minutes ago needed to tide me over for the rest of the day, because my oxygen was being slowly squeezed out of me with every bump and jostle.

After a few minutes of a lot of ping-ponging around but no moving, I lifted my phone. Then lowered it. Hot breath on my neck from the stranger behind me made me lift it again.

Hudson told me to use his number if I needed it. This qualifies, right?I’d nearly had a heart attack when I saw which notebook he’d left his number on, but from what I could tell, he hadn’t glanced inside, just written in giant print on the front.

Me:It’s Whitney. Where are you? I just came through the entrance, but it’s crazy and I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be going.

I stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for his response. But it didn’t come.He probably has his phone off.

I thought I heard my name, and I craned my neck, trying to find the source. Man, I didn’t usually feel short, but I couldn’t see a thing. The person to my left took advantage of my distraction, using it as an opportunity to cut in front of me—I didn’t even know what we were in line for, but I still wanted to tap him on the shoulder and tell him no cutsies.

I heard my name again, from somewhere off to the right. People parted for Hudson as he neared. He had on his jersey, but no pads—apparently that’s what it took to get through this crowd.

He extended his hand to me. “Come on. I’ll get you over to where you can see.”

I still didn’t know what we were trying to see, but I wanted out of the crowd. The fact that it meant holding on to Hudson’s hand again…well, I had to get to somewhere I could report on the event, after all.

He pulled me through the crowd and stepped over those crowd control posts with the seat belt material. When I attempted to do the same, I didn’t quite clear the rope. My foot caught and then the end slid loose and whipped toward me. I moved out of the way just in time, but it made a loudpingwhen it hit the metal post, and the massive security guard nearby shot me a stern look.

“Where’s your ID?” he asked.

“She’s with the Boston College team,” Hudson said, tugging me away from the guy—apparently he didn’t think the guard would Taser him, whereas I was expecting volts to be shot into my ass at any second.

“Troublemaker,” Hudson said with a smile.

“A gentleman would’ve held the rope for me, you know,” I teased. I couldn’t help thinking that if I were wearing heels, I’d also have been tall enough to clear it.

“Sweetheart, there’s probably something you should know about me…” Hudson tightened his grip on my hand. “I’m no gentleman.”

I knew he was kidding—or maybe not kidding, but…well, either way, the “sweetheart” drew me up short. Then I realized we were walking toward the rest of the hockey players, and I couldn’t be caught holding hands with Hudson—I shouldn’t be holding hands with him anyway.

Even if he had come to get me and owned dinosaur figurines and gave killer massages.

I tugged my hand loose, and he glanced at me. “Thanks for helping me out of the mess, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” I said. “I’m here to report on the event, and they might not realize you were just helping me through the crowd.”

Hudson’s steps slowed, his eyes way too focused on me, to the point my ears flamed. “Right.”

I pushed up the damn glasses, annoyed that the lenses had smudges—I swear, no matter how often I cleaned them, they were always dirty. “This place is nuts. How’d you get to me so fast?”

“I was already near the entrance, grabbing an extra microphone for the NHL guys.” Hudson lifted his jersey, and sure enough a microphone stuck out of his pocket. Of course, then I noticed the crazy cut of his obliques, as well as caught a glimpse of the dark trail of hair disappearing into the bright blue band of his boxer briefs, which I knew were Under Armour, because the neon yellow symbol was screaming at me to keep staring.

“Whitney?”

I looked up, fighting the urge to wipe my mouth in case of drool. “Well. Thanks again. I’m not sure I ever would’ve made it through that crowd.”

I started toward the area where the rest of the hockey team had congregated, but a person wearing a headset and a panicked look on her face charged in front of me, making me stop short. Hudson knocked into me, and his hands went to my waist to steady me. With his front against my back, I could feel way too many muscles, and something hard was definitely pressing into my butt.

“Is that a microphone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” It came out unbidden, a joke that was supposed to stay inside my brain, and for a second I froze, horrified at letting it slip out.

Hudson’s sputtered laughter stirred my hair, and the way his fingers tightened and dug into my skin made my body a little too happy. It was in for some serious disappointment, because I so wasn’t going there. I’d decided earlier today that it was completely unethical and—

Hudson’s lips moved next to my ear. “I’ve got to get this microphone up to the stage, but for the record…” He brushed past me, his chest making full contact with my shoulder and arm. “It’s a little of both.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

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