Page 61 of Daddies on Ice
The real reason is already looking at me from the row where she sits, a knit hat pulled low over her dark hair.
Trisha shifts when she notices me, straightening in her seat.
Krystal and Becky are deep in conversation, their heads bent close, giggling and pointing at the rink. It gives me the perfect opening.
“You gals having fun?” I ask, resting a hand on the railing beside Trisha’s shoulder. My voice is casual, but inside my chest is pounding.
“They’re having the time of their lives.” She tilts her head toward the girls. Her voice is warm, soft enough that I have to lean in to hear it over the crowd. “Krystal knows more about hockey than I do. She’s giving Becky lessons.”
I chuckle, my gaze slipping from her mouth to her eyes. “I’m not surprised. She’s been living and breathing this game since she could walk. Probably earlier.”
Trisha smiles, and the edges of it curl something tight inside me.
There’s no reason for my body to react this way to a simple smile, but it does.
“You’re doing a good job with her,” she says. “She’s confident, kind. That’s not easy.”
The words land heavier than she probably means them to. I swallow, suddenly wanting to tell her more than I should, but I keep it simple. “Thanks. Means a lot coming from you.”
Her cheeks color, and she looks away for a moment, down at her gloved hands in her lap. But I catch it—the spark of desire in her eyes before she turns. She feels this pull between us too.
The girls start whispering again, oblivious to the way the air thickens between us. I lean closer, close enough to smell the faint trace of vanilla on her skin. “You holding up okay with all this?” I nod toward the chaos of the arena, the constant noise, the cameras sweeping the stands.
She laughs under her breath. “It’s loud. But I’m fine. Not my first hockey game, Coach.”
The wordCoachon her lips makes my body tense in a way I don’t want to analyze too closely.
I search her face, trying to figure out if she knows what she’s doing to me.
Our eyes lock, and for a heartbeat the rest of the arena fades out. She doesn’t look away.
I confirm it in her then, the same pull, the same want that’s eating me alive.
Maybe not on my hellish level, but it’s there.
Krystal calls my name, breaking the spell. I drag my gaze from Trisha, forcing myself back into safe territory.
“We’re gonna win,” Krystal says with a grin.
“That’s the plan,” I answer, but my eyes flick back to Trisha one last time before I turn away.
She’s watching me, lips parted just slightly, like she’s on the edge of saying something she can’t.
And god help me, I almost stop to let her.
When the second period ends, we’re still in control of the game.
The Zamboni crawls out onto the ice, its steady hum filling the arena.
I’m supposed to be reviewing shifts, thinking about adjustments. Instead, my thoughts are stuck on Trisha.
Of Jake kissing Trisha and me wishing to switch places with my player.
Of the way she’d looked at me, as if she was just waiting for me to kiss her.
My pants grow uncomfortably tight in the crotch, so I shift a little on the bench to ease the tension.
Suddenly, the crowd grows louder, whistles and shouts echoing through the stands. I glance up, confused. Then I see it.
