Page 102 of Slap Shot Scandal
“He is, Pipes. So amazing. He’s strong and dedicated, determined. An amazing listener who always knows just the right thing to say. Also freakishly tall and gorgeous.” Afull-body shiver rips through me, remembering how his touch made me come undone.
“Oh my god.”
My eyes fly open. Piper’s standing over me, her green eyes narrowed. “You’re in love with him.”
“What? No,” I protest, scrambling to sit up. I don’t like the way my sister’s lording over me right now.
And I really don’t like the way she’s calling me out. Like she’s my damn therapist.
“You are!” She points at my chest, a deep, red flush creeping over my skin like a snaking vine, giving me away.
“I am not. We’re not even official.” I smooth my hand over my ponytail.
“Sure, right,” Piper tuts, pulling on her sandals. “So if he asked to put a ring on it tomorrow you’d say no?”
I bite down on my lip, my heart pounding double-time.
How does my sister always know things?
“I didn’t say that…” My voice trails off, my mind skipping to the wedding. The white satin dress, tiki torches on the beach, Weston in a tux.
Of course I’d say yes.
A shot of panic bursts through me.
I’d say yes.
So what about this job, my career? His career?
Instead of making the predicament clearer, my sister’s muddled me up even more. I don’t know what to do about anything.
Piper sinks down next to me on the bed and wraps her arm around me. With a shuddery sigh, I lay my head on her shoulder and huff out a breath.
“I’m sorry I said those things to you before. About yourjob and pressure and expectations. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know, Harbor.” She rubs my arm and I feel a touch lighter. “It’s okay. And you don’t have to always choose work, you know.”
My stomach clenches and knots, her words hitting me hard in the chest.
“I know,” I whisper the lie, so softly I know there’s no chance Piper believes me.
Her fingers tickle my skin and I focus on the tiny circles, going round and round.
Just like me and Weston.
Skating around each other, stuck in this weird, twisted dance. Getting close, then pushing away. Again and again.
Deep-down, I know it’s only partly because of the job.
Another part of me is absolutely terrified of getting my heart broken.
Because that’s what happens to women who fall for pro hockey stars.
Even ones as perfect as Weston.
Happily Ever Afters don’t exist in real life. Not really.
It’s a story old as time.
