Page 8 of Shot on Goal at a Second Chance
Captivated, I observe her every movement as she interacts with her staff, then stops briefly to chat with her GM. And I’m still standing there when she casts a glance my way just before leaving the rink.
Apparently, our years apart did little to diminish my feelings for Rebecca because I’m right back in that place, on the ice, with eyes only for her. Searching for her in the seats to see if she’s there and if she had snuck into the arena wearing my jersey. Taking her out on dates on thesly so her father wouldn’t know, though I suspect he did right from the beginning.
Kissing her for the first time and the last time, right before the trade.
It’s the stuff after that I wish I could forget. Once I got called up to the NHL, I had to focus more, and that left little opportunity for other things like trying to make a long distance relationship work. And then Laney became a permanent fixture in my life.
Maybe this next gig is the universe’s way of giving us a second chance. But the question looming larger than life is, will she give me another shot?
My phone lights up when I get back to my hotel. Chase’s contact photo shows on the screen, so I answer it, hoping he’s calling with a recent development, although after seeing Rebecca, I’m not sure I’d be as interested anymore.
“How’d it go?” His barely suppressed excitement bleeds over the connection.
“Fine. The usual. No big deal.” That’s the story I’m telling Chase. Meanwhile, my insides are humming with the same tension I would get when I sped down the ice, working the puck for a shot on goal, heart racing and legs pumping until I swung the stick with everything I had.
“So…how did she react when she saw you?”
I groan. “Don’t go there, Chase. This is strictly professional.”
He snorts. “Come on, man. It had to be epic.”
It was. But I’m not telling him that.
CHAPTER 5
Rebecca
Ithink I’ve changed my clothes at least a half dozen times this morning. One outfit looked overly professional like I was screaming GIRL BOSS, which I’m inclined to do in the sports world. Another seemed too casual like I showed up on a whim. Finally, I settled on something familiar that I knew would make me feel confident and yes, pretty, which is ridiculous.
Zach is just a crush from my past. Nothing more.
That’s what I told myself to get through the months after he stopped returning my calls. The more I repeated it, the less the truth had stung. He’d moved on so easily while I’d stupidly pined away after him. Then I heard his sister passed away and reached out again, but he didn’t return my call then, either.
I still find it embarrassing when I reflect on the way I tried to hold on to Zach like some lovelorn teenager. My father warned me, but I didn’t listen. I’m as stubborn as he was. But now, I’m thankful for the lesson because it kept me focused on what I wanted, what I was workingtoward. Had I set aside my own professional dreams to chase after Zach’s, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Twenty-three years later, I finally own a hockey team and can do things the way I want. The trappings may not be all that attractive yet—the loud crash of the construction workers taking down a wall punctuates my thoughts—but it’s all mine.
Harper’s voice comes through the speakerphone. “Zach Keller is here.”
I push the intercom button. “Thanks, Harper. Send him in.”
Quick to my feet, I straighten the waistband of my slacks, preparing myself to see him again. More like a team pep talk before a game.
Don’t react when he flashes that smile, which he will.
Don’t let him think I’m still attracted to him, which I totally am, but I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
Don’t let him rattle me the way he used to.
He glides into my office almost as smoothly as I remember him moving on skates, confident and sure of himself in his strides to where I’m standing by my desk. Although his charcoal suit is an interesting change from a hockey uniform, he still carries himself like an athlete. That classic Zach smile certainly hasn’t changed, nor has its effect on me.
“Rebecca.” His voice slides over me like an embrace when he leans in to kiss my cheek. The warmth of his hand as he holds my arm just below the shoulder sears my skin, bringing a rush of memories of him holding me…kissing me.
“Zach, good to see you.”
His sandalwood cologne competes with the heavenly scent of butter and garlic coming from the bag swinging from his free hand. I’m frozen in place, caught between my fear of what all this could potentially mean—this reuniting acquaintances after so long—and my curiosity to find out.
His dark eyes shift from me to my desk, then back to my face. He lifts a brow as if to ask if this is business or pleasure. Zach always knew what I was thinking before I said a word. You’d think after all these years, our connection would have waned enough that he wouldn’t be able to read me so easily.
