All the guys are going to be staring at her.
“Are you going to wave back?” Noah curls a brow as he lowers his stick to the ice and pushes off, leaving me to wonder,Am I going to wave back?
This is absurd.
What is she even doing here?
She can’t be here to see me.
Does she even like hockey?
We took the photo—a rather sultry photo that’s been burned into my brain—and our agreement is done. Bill steps forward from out of the shadow of the owner’s box, a full smirk lacing his face as he nods toward me, and I know his game.
But this isn’t part of the deal.
Even though warmups just started, sweat beads on my brow. He’s drawing this out, but I never agreed to a public appearance. My cheeks fire with anger, and I fight back a scowl as I pivot, lower my stick to the ice, and skate away, not looking back. I will keep my mouth shut. If I can prove I can at least do that, then he doesn’t needSophieto show up here to help me be likable.
I keep my eyes to the ice as I join the guys in skating warmup laps and firing off practice shots in the goal. As I skate around, I can’t help but notice the arena is more crowded tonight. Almost every seat is full, and people are standing on their feet with their phones posed for photos and positioned as if they’re following me.
There are an awful lot more females in the crowd than normal, with entire rows of them in full hair and makeup, looking like they belong on the runway more than a sports arena. Somethingis up. I skate around to the back of the goal, and several women bat their lashes at me in succession, and then wave with feminine four-finger waves.
I’m over this, whatever it is. The music switches, and I find my gaze floating back up to the owner’s box. Sophie’s sitting next to Bill, and they’re chatting as if they are old friends.
It feels off.
Every man near her is practically drooling over her.
She does look amazing, though.
She catches me looking at her and flashes her palm up in a giant wave. I turn my gaze down, ready to start the game, but even after the faceoff, she remains a flicker in my peripheral vision.
I can’t concentrate.
Hockey is always rough, but this game is vicious. I easily score a goal right away, but by the second period, I’ve gotten slammed against the Plexiglass so many times, that I lose my temper and purposely punch one of their players. That earns them a power play, and I’m banished to the box, but I keep my mouth shut when the ref calls it.
Not losing my temper is a win for me.
Once I’m in the penalty box, my gaze shifts to the owner’s box.
There she is with her eyes still locked on me, and as soon as she catches me looking at her, she gestures that soft wave at me again.
Seriously, what’s up with that dress?
In a hockey arena, for Pete’s sake.
Shaking my head, I turn to watch the game. It takes only a few seconds before my gaze floats back up to Sophie.
What is she doing here?
She couldn’t possibly have come here just to watch me.
Bill clearly put her up to this, but our deal is over. So what is he up to now?
eight
Sophie
I don’t know a thing about hockey, but one look at Axl in the rink and I melt.
