Page 48 of Behind the Net

Jamie’s thumb taps my arm, and he tips his chin at the stage. “Your turn.”

My smile is indulgent. “Right. Very funny.”

“I’m serious.” His gaze bores into mine, filled with determination. “What did I tell you about getting back on the ice?”

The authority in his deep voice makes my face heat.

“Jamie.” My mouth is quirking into a rueful grin. “This isn’t getting back on the ice. I haven’t performed on stage since high school.”

“I remember.”

Awareness shimmers through me, along with… something sparking in my stomach. I wish I could see inside his head.

He pins me with his gaze. “I know you can do it.”

The way he looks down at me, the certainty in his voice, it makes my insides warm.

Hayden turns back to us from where he was talking with the booth behind him. “Pippa, are you a singer?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really.”

“Yes,” Jamie cuts in. “She sings and plays guitar, and she’s good.”

Hayden leans his chin on his fist, looking at me like it’s Christmas Eve and I’m Santa. “Pippa.”

“No.” I stare at Jamie. “Thanks a lot.”

Hayden gathers the guys’ attention. “Pippa’s going to sing for us.” He starts clapping.

They all react at once, clapping and hollering and moving chairs out of the way for me, but I stay seated. I glare at Hayden, but I can’t be mad at him. My heart is racing but I’m laughing.

“Tell you what, songbird.” Jamie’s mouth brushes my ear, and there’s that low tug in my belly again. “If you sing a song up there, I’ll go with you to your wrap party. We’ll show your asshole ex who came out on top.”

I meet his gaze, and electricity pulls between us like a cord. I picture walking into the party with Jamie’s arm around me, maybe his mouth brushing my ear the way it did a second ago.

I picture the look on Zach’s face—disbelief, shock, and jealousy.

I like that idea.

“Deal.”

CHAPTER23

PIPPA

Everyone is staring at me.This guitar is out of tune, but there isn’t time to fix it.

I’m scared. My heart beats out of my chest. My thoughts are everywhere, whizzing around like bees. I readjust the strap on my shoulder and strum a soft chord. The motion is effortless.

The Filthy Flamingo goes quiet, but I can hear my pulse in my ears. Jordan leans on the bar counter, watching. What am I going to play? I scramble for a song.

If they laugh, I’ll be so embarrassed. I could never go to another game.

I meet Jamie’s eyes, and my mind pauses. He looks like he did the other night, when I played for him. The watchful, patient expression pinning me.

I could play that song.

The sound of Zach and his manager’s laughter echoes in my head, and my lungs tighten. Playing for Jamie alone is different than playing for a bar full of people.

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