Page 68 of In My Hockey Era
And I don’t know if I step into him or if he pulls me in first, but suddenly,we’re kissing.
And it’sa lot.
His hands frame my face, fingers threading into my hair as his lips crash into mine.It’s not soft, not tentative.It’s heat and frustration, something messy and urgent that neither of us fully understand, but neither of us want to stop.
I curl my fingers into the front of his jersey, kissing him back with everything I’ve got.
A sharp whistle cuts through the air.
“Get a room!”
We break apart just enough for me to catch Chase smirking nearby, Mia beside him, her mouth open in victorious delight.
Bennett exhales a laugh against my lips, then presses one last, lingering kiss to my mouth before pulling back, hands still on me.
“Told you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my cheek.“You care.”
I huff, pushing at his chest, but I don’t move far.
And maybe…maybehe’s right.
• • •
I adjust my headphones and lean into the mic, my fingers drumming lightly against the table.
“Alright, guys,” I say, glancing at the outline on my laptop screen.“Welcome back toOvertime with Quinn, your favorite place for rants, hot takes, and maybe some actual analysis if I remember to focus.”
A chuckle escapes me as I settle into the rhythm.
It feels good to be back, talking about hockey the way I used to—beforeallof this.The book club chaos, the PR stunts, the whirlwind of Bennett Wilder invading my life in ways I never saw coming.
Not that I mind.Not really.
I shake it off and glance at my notes.“So, let’s talk about last night’s game.The Stampede pulled off a 3-1 win against Seattle, but let’s be honest, it shouldn’t have even been that close.Turnovers were a problem, especially in the second period.And don’t even get me started on the defensive zone coverage—”
Bzzt.
My phone lights up next to my laptop.A text banner flashes across the screen.
Bennett:Are you talking about me?I feel like you’re talking about me.
I purse my lips, trying to fight a smile.
I ignore it.
Mostly.
“Anyway, one of the highlights of the night was Chase Remington’s absolutesnipein the third.Clean, effortless, exactly the kind of shot you dream about taking as a kid.I mean, the guy might be grumpy as hell, but that wrister?Chef’s kiss.”
Another buzz.
Bennett:I have a great wrister too, you know.
I bite my lip, my cheeks warming.
I press on, trying to focus.“And of course, we have to mention the Stampede’s power play finally clicking—”
Bzzt.
