The seats are good, I think. We’re on the same side where the players are warming up, close enough that I can see them well but far enough up that other people aren’t blocking my view simply by being taller than me. Floor seats at events are a real struggle sometimes.
“What number is he?” Kinsley asks.
“Eighty-eight.” I found him the second we sat down. He’s currently stretching in front of the bench with Nick. Seeing his teammate makes me wonder if Ruby is here. I do a quick scan in case her seat is nearby but don’t find her anywhere.
“I can’t believe the full uniform didn’t do anything for you.”
“And it’s doing something for you?” I ask, lifting a brow. Kinsley has dated men in the past but admitted to me once that she didn’t find them as attractive as women in general.
“Don’t worry.” She winks. “I’m very in love with Skylar.”
Just before the clock runs down on warmups, Travis glances up to the stands. It’s a brief scan, so quick that I’m not evencertain he’s looking for anyone—more just noticing that there are people filing in for the game—but then his stare whips back directly at me. He stops skating and a grin slowly stretches across his face.
My face turns hot, and I fight the instinct to duck down where he can’t see me. I think it’s too late for that. Plus, he just looks so happy that I’m here I don’t want to ruin that even for my own pride. He lifts a hand in a wave that I return and then stops next to Conrad. He must tell his friend I’m here because soon he’s looking too. Slowly he tells what feels like the whole damn team. My cheeks are on fire.
“What is he doing?” I ask, glancing down to partially hide my face.
“I think your man is showing you off.”
“Oh my god. I am mortified.”
Her laughter continues while Travis stares up at me from the ice, grinning and occasionally pointing me out to another guy on his team.
A couple of men sitting in the row in front of us turn and look at me when they notice the attention I’m getting.
“Are you famous or something?” one of them asks, looking me over with a confused and frankly, dismissive, glance.
“Or something,” I say.
“She’s married to number eighty-eight,” Kinsley says in the ultimate betrayal.
I gape at her.
The guy finally perks up. “No shit? You’re Travis Bennett’s wife?”
Holy shit, I’m Travis Bennett’s wife.
Once the game starts, I relax. All eyes are finally on the ice and not on me. Well, except for Travis. Every time there’s a whistle or break in play, he looks at me like he’s checking to make sure I’m still here.
It’s different seeing him play in person than it was watching video clips. More of his personality shines through that the camera couldn’t catch. The grins and glove taps with his teammates to hype them up, the constant chatter—I can’t hear it, but his mouth is always moving when he’s out there, and then the sheer awe-inspiring talent he possesses. It’s breathtaking, the way he moves down the ice with the puck, dodging defenders, and getting off passes to his teammates. When he’s off the ice, I’m a lot less interested in what’s happening.
Five minutes into the first period, Travis scores the first goal of the night. One second, I’m watching him steal the puck on the far side of the ice, and the next thing I know he’s breaking away, sprinting toward the goal with such grace and speed it’s impossible to look away.
When the buzzer sounds, the arena is on their feet. Me included. I jump up and down, then wince at the discomfort of my ankle.
“You good?” Kinsley shouts, glancing down at my foot. She’s clapping along with everyone else.
“Fine,” I yell back, ignoring the bite of pain as I watch Travis’s teammates congratulate him. All the guys on the ice crowd around him. They pat the top of his helmet or wrap an arm around his neck, it’s a free for all, whatever part of them they can touch as they all pile together in one big, purple heap.
Finally, he emerges from the center and as he skates by, he looks up to me. The grin he flashes me is so sexy—no way a video could have compared.
I put my hands around my mouth and yell down at him, “Nice shot, Bennett!”
I doubt he can hear me, but his smile pulls higher anyway.
22
TRAVIS
