Page 103 of The Wildest One
I didn’t glance at her since I didn’t want her to know we were talking about her and continued, “But anything beyond that, there’s been nothing. I have no idea where her head is at. Aside from thinking it’s all a bad idea.”
“She’s right. It probably is.”
I went to take a sip and stopped midair. “What would make you say that?”
“Can you honestly say to me that she’sthe one? If that’s whereyourhead is at, then it’s the best idea you’ve ever come up with. If she’s just going to be someone you’re with for a little while and get bored with, then don’t mess with that, brother. There’s far too much overlap between your professional and personal life, and you don’t need that kind of drama.”
I finally took a drink. “You do know how long this has been going on for, don’t you?”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“But it should.”
I gazed toward the couch, and she was talking to my right wing, the one who had scored tonight’s final goal. The way he was staring, the way he was so engaged—it was like she was a puck, and he was fucking mesmerized. I didn’t like it. Not at all.
“When have I ever spoken to anyone for any length of time? When have I ever made the effort to reconnect with someone I hooked up with on the road? I invited her to Paris, Walker. And Africa—at least I attempted to. Have you ever known me to do that?”
“You’ve been able to have anyone you ever wanted. Except her. But what happens when you get her—saying you do? Will you still want her? Or will she become something you’ve conquered and you’ll want to move on?”
“Fuck yes, I’ll still want her.”
“And how do you know that?” At some point, his hand had lifted off my shoulder, and his arm was now crossed over his chest, the other holding his drink near his collarbone. “And how are you so sure?”
“That’s easy.” I felt my lips drag into a smile.
“Yeah?”
She was now speaking to Ginger, the two of them whispering about something.
“I think about her as much as I think about hockey.”
Walker let out a mouthful of air, slowly shaking his head back and forth. “Hockey’s your one true love.”
“And now it has competition.”
His head went from shaking to nodding. “That’s some deep shit right there.”
“Does that answer all your questions?”
“Sure does.”
Since the filming in the team’s gym, the teasing between us had been amplified. We seemed to arrive at the arena at the same time every morning, and I had to endure the torture of sharing an elevator with her. Every time I met with her father, I was somehow passing her in the executive hallway. Whenever I left practice, she and her team were always needing something from me—an interview, a photo, an extra skate around the ice for the team’s social media channels.
And every time, I wanted more—more of her attention, more of her eyes on me, more of her words—and I couldn’t get any of it.
But I was going to change that right now.
Jolie was leaving the couch area and walking to the hallway that led to the restrooms.
I handed Walker my drink and gripped his shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “I’ve got something I need to do. I’ll be back.”
“It’d better be her.”
“Do you think I’d give up my cocktail for just anyone?”
He laughed. “That’s my man.”
The ladies’ restroom in the VIP area had two stalls, which meant there was a good chance Jolie wasn’t in there alone. With the men’s restroom directly next door, it didn’t look suspicious for me to be headed there. But rather than going all the way down the hallway, I stopped halfway where the manager’s office was located and hit the numbers on the pad to unlock the door.
