Page 73 of Breaking the Pucking Rules
Exactly why she refused to take her mask off two weeks ago.
She isn’t allowed to fraternize with the team just as much as we’re meant to keep our distance from her.
After Fletch told me how good it was for me to show my face after our Vancouver game, Coach pulled me into his office and none too discreetly demanded that I put in a little more effort with the team.
He fully understands my other priorities but also knows how vital team bonding is.
He’s been in my position, so I have to trust that he knows what I need to do to be both the best hockey player and father I can be.
I thought it was going to be safe. I could have a beer with the guys and then head home so I could be up early to spend time with Sutton before I was needed back at the arena.
I was confident that I could handle both going into the season.
Until she walked in.
Hell, what am I saying? The second I saw her sitting behind the net as I stepped out onto the ice earlier, I knew that life was never going to be easy again.
Not when she refuses to get out of my head.
Linc spent the rest of our trip trying to pull information out of me.
I refused to give him anything, instead sticking with my story about not knowing who she was.
It’s how it was meant to be.
I played better tonight. Instead of being distracted by her eyes on me, I was able to harness it and turn the heat of her stare into determination.
I hate to give her the credit, but I’m pretty sure she’s the reason I was tonight’s top goal scorer.
The moment she sees me sitting amongst the team, her steps falter, and the blood drains from her face.
Something stirs inside me.
Satisfaction and a little relief.
I’m not the only one who’s just had the world tugged from beneath them.
The only problem is I don’t know the reason for her shock.
It’s been two weeks since the ball. A week since I discovered her identity. She’s had every opportunity to seek me out. It’s what a puck bunny would have done.
They’re relentless in their quest to bag a player.
But she hasn’t. Other than turning up to my games, wearing my jersey, and holding eye contact a couple of times, she hasn’t made a move.
I can’t help but wonder if I’m thinking about all of this way more than I should.
Am I building it up to be something bigger than it is?
She told me that she only wanted one night. Was that really the truth?
I feel like a jerk assuming that one night wouldn’t be enough. Apparently, I’m now the cocky asshole I used to be.
She brings it back up in me, though.
The need to be noticed. To be wanted.
Although, if I’m being honest, I’ve never been genuinely needed by a woman before. They might have wanted me for a fun night or two to let off some steam and earn some bragging rights or a story to sell. But not a single one ever cared enough to actually need me.
