Page 34 of Daddies on Ice
His gaze lands on me, flickers to the girls, then to the empty chair at my side.
He looks away first, gives a small nod to the driver, and disappears toward the back to sign off on something with our equipment manager.
A weight dips the seat next to mine.
Ash drops into it like he’s been doing it for a decade, one arm stretching along the back of my chair.
Which he has been, but today my body reacts like he just flipped a switch. Heat slides across my shoulders.
I hate how aware I am of the line of his arm, the clean smell of his sweatshirt, the tiny scar at the corner of his mouth I’m desperate to touch with my thumb.
Or my lips.
The RV engine hums to life and we pull out of the parking lot.
The Thunderwolves bus pulls out behind us, then the staff van.
Through the tinted window, the practice rink shrinks. We’re really doing this.
Ash drops his voice. “You okay?”
“I’m good.” But am I? In theory, this job and the road trip sounded like a grand plan, a great vacation for Becky.
But now?
I didn’t know at the time that I’d be drowning in hormone overload and the three guys I’m hot for are on this bus with me.
Then there’s the flowers. They really bother me because I can’t figure out who would send them.
I exhale slowly. “Someone left roses on my doorstep this morning.”
His brow lifts. “Roses?”
“With a card,” I add. The words feel ridiculous. I’m thirty seconds from blushing. “Well. Not a card. A drawing. A wolf. Like the mascot.”
He processes that fast. “From who?”
“No signature.”
He frowns but doesn’t seem too worried about it. “Creepy.”
“Maybe romantic.”
Our travel coordinator stands, rattles off the day’s plan, and reminds us what time we have to be at the arena for morning skate.
I open my laptop on the little armrest table and schedule posts—library fundraiser thank-you, photos of books and wolves and kids’ paper crowns, donation totals, and a small video clip of Ash asking the goose about apologies.
I tag the library, add the team’s slogan, and triple-check that we didn’t accidentally capture Krista in a corner of a frame.
That would be a nightmare!
All the while, I feel the heat of Ash’s body next to me.
My own body tenses and it’s all I can do not to scoot closer to him, to feel his body pressed against mine.
He glances at me and our gazes lock.
Is that desire shining in his eyes? It can’t be.
