Page 13 of In My Hockey Era
Doeseveryoneknow about that?
Before I can answer, a familiar voice cuts through the air.“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
And there she is.All five foot four of her, but what she lacks in physical size, she makes up for with sass.She’s more pit bull than goldendoodle.And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love it.
Lucy Quinn is standing in the middle of the shelter’s playroom, arms crossed, wearing an old Dallas Stampede T-shirt that’s somehow more attractive than it has any right to be.Her golden brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and her cheeks are flushed like she’s been running around wrangling dogs all afternoon.
“Wilder,” she says flatly.“Why are you here?”
She’s even more beautiful than I remember.
“Nice to see you too.”I flash my best grin, the one that gets me out of trouble ninety-nine percent of the time.“We had the afternoon off.Thought we’d do some good for the community.”
She snorts.“Oh, please.”
“Why the hostility, Quinn?”
She huffs.“You didn’t wake up today and decide to spend your day off at an animal shelter out of the goodness of your heart.”
“She’s got you there, man,” Hunter says, barely hiding his amusement.He turns to Lucy.“I’m Hunter, by the way.Big fan of your work.Especially the part where you publicly humiliated my boy here.”
Lucy smirks, like she’s already decided Hunter is tolerable and I’m not.“Nice to meet you, Hunter.If you’re here to actually help, I can put you to work.”
“Sounds like fun.”He shoves his hands in his pockets, still grinning.“I’d rather scoop dog poop than watch this disaster unfold.”He gestures between us.
Lucy turns back to me.“And you?Are you planning on actually helping, or is this just a poorly executed attempt at spying on me?”
Damn.No hesitation.Just calling me right out.
I lift a brow.“What makes you think I’m trying to spy on you?”
She levels me with a look.“Please.If you wanted to volunteer, you could’ve pickedanycharity in Dallas.But somehow, you magically end up atthisone?Where I just so happen to be?”
“I love dogs,” I say smoothly.
Her eyes narrow.“Name three dog breeds.”
I blink.“Uh… golden retriever.”
“Easy one,” she says, unimpressed.
“Bulldog.”
“Fine.”
I rack my brain.“Uh… poodle?”
She rolls her eyes.“Wow.Such depth.Clearly ahugedog lover.”
Hunter chuckles under his breath.“Man, I’m enjoying this.”
He’s transfixed—it’s like watching a riveting game of ping pong.She lobs one my way, and I return it.But she’s always one step ahead.I can barely keep up.
Before I can defend myself, a tiny golden brown puppy barrels into my legs, nearly toppling over its own oversized paws.Lucy’s expression softens as she scoops it up effortlessly, cradling it against her chest.
And suddenly, I hate that damn puppy.Because it gets to be held by her, and I don’t.The thing is practically nuzzled against the soft curves of her ample chest.I feel weak.Slightly feverish.
What the hell is happening to me?
