Page 4 of Love in the Net
“You have no idea.”
Before I can say more, Chase turns toward the ice and shouts, “Hey, O’Brien! Your mud girl is here!”
Mud girl.
Son of a scone.
I want to sink into the floor. Instead, I clutch the wallet tighter and prepare myself for the inevitable mortification. Liam skates toward the bench, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. He pulls off his helmet, revealing slightly damphair and a face that, unfortunately, looks even better in indoor lighting highlighted by blue ice. How is that fair?
I’m sure I look like a Halloween ghoul.
“Claire.” Liam steps off the ice, shoves his helmet at Chase, and brushes by him. “What’s going on?”
“I found your wallet in the mud.” I hold it up.
“You didn’t have to bring that here.” He takes it, his voice warm and husky. He presses in close to me. “Mm, you smell nice.”
“I had time to shower.”
“Lucky.” He grins at me.
“Figured you might need it,” I say, not sure what to do with the warmth of his body so close to mine and the way he’s devouring me with his eyes. “And I didn’t want you thinking Waffles was also a thief.”
Liam’s lips twitch, the ghost of a smile playing there. “Thanks, sweetheart.” He makes no move to leave or go back to practice. A few steps below us, the drills rage on, the sound of skates against ice and the hard slap of sticks continue.
Chase, still lingering nearby, goes, “Awww. Isn’t this cute? Mud Girl and The Wall, reunited.”
Liam shoots him a look that could freeze water, but Chase doesn’t seem fazed. “Don’t mind him,” Liam says, as his fingers brush mine, and I swear we scatter sparks all over the facility. “He’s been dropped on the ice one too many times.”
“Hey,” Chase protests, but his grin suggests he’s not offended in the slightest.
“Claire?”
I turn to see Poppy Brighton, owner of Sweet Curves Boutique, one of my favorite new shops in Blue Ridge. She’s holding a garment bag and looking as surprised to see me as I am to see her.
“Poppy,” I say, grateful for a familiar face. “What are you doing here?”
“Delivering a custom jersey for Jack,” she says, nodding toward her boyfriend on the ice. Of course I knew they were together—engaged now, to be married once this hockey season concludes. She flicks a look over to Liam. “What about you?”
“I’m, uh, returning a wallet,” I say, gesturing toward Liam, who holds it up. “Long story.”
Poppy’s eyes light up with interest as Liam’s coach yells at him and he waddle-walks down to the ice. “Oh, Ilovelong stories. Especially when they involve handsome hockey players.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest, though my flaming cheeks probably say otherwise.
Poppy leans in conspiratorially. “You know, Liam’s a great guy. A little grumpy, but in a charming way. And he’s single.”
“Poppy,” I hiss, glancing at Liam to make sure he didn’t hear that. He’s busy talking to another teammate, thankfully oblivious to our conversation.
“What?” she says innocently. “I’m just saying, you could do worse.”
“Poppy,” I repeat, this time with more emphasis.
She grins and says, “Come by the shop for something amazing to wear for your first date.”
“He hasn’t asked?—”
Liam returns, looking slightly flustered. Poppy squeezes his bicep and goes to sit behind the boards. She obviously has a special pass to watch practice.
