It had been two weeks since his return to the ice, and it felt amazing to be back in the game. His teammates had been very supportive throughout his suspension, but that didn’t help the fact he felt like shit for missing six games.
McKenna’s positive promotional posts had been making the rounds, and he’d started to see less negative comments circulating. In addition to her posts, several pictures of him and McKenna had hit social media, as well. One of the parents from the signing with the Pee Wee team had filmed him chasing McKenna around the ice. She’d even gotten the impromptu kiss on the cheek. The mom had uploaded it to TikTok, including the hashtag #cutestcouple. Because TikTok apparently had a hard-on for him after the damn viral video—McKenna explained it was the algorithms—the mother’s video had gotten quite a few views itself.
McKenna hadn’t been thrilled when he’d pointed it out to her, but Benny hadn’t seen it as a bad thing, which was a surprise and a relief. Then Benny reminded him—a-fucking-gain—that a lot of the Stingrays’ biggest sponsors would be in attendance tonight and Tank should be on his best behavior. He got pissed every time Benny said shit like that, because it made him feel like he was some naughty toddler. He wasn’t a fucking idiot.
Of course, the second he thought that, he recalled that he’d taken Lara and Emily to the last fancy fundraiser he’d attended in the fall…and after way too much champagne, the three of them had given new meaning to the term “dirty dancing.” So he begrudgingly decided that maybe the reminders were justified.
Tank climbed the three steps to the small front landing in front of McKenna’s townhouse, but before he could knock on the door, it swung open.
Tank’s eyes widened because…
Holy.
Fuck.
“Mouse?”
McKenna frowned, confused by his tone. “Who else were you expecting?”
Tank couldn’t stop himself from blowing a low whistle. “Jesus Christ. You look gorgeous.”
Her cheeks instantly grew pink, which only made her look even hotter, as far as he was concerned. Tank had had no idea before her that blushing was a total turn-on for him. The women he usually dated were experienced, confident, and oozing with sex appeal, so blushing wasn’t something they did.
He wouldn’t have thought McKenna ticked any of those boxes until a few weeks ago, certain that she was just what his first impression had told him.
Awkward introvert.
Now, he knew better. He’d seen her confidence up close and personal…at least as far as her job was concerned. She knew her shit when it came to work, and she didn’t cower or remain quiet about her thoughts and opinions.
As for sex appeal…
His gaze slid along her body once more, taking in the visual feast.
She might be the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. And that was saying something.
“You have a waist.”
If Tank could have swallowed those words back he would have, because what kind of stupid line was that?
McKenna, however, didn’t take offense. Instead, she rewarded him for idiocy by treating him to one of those eye rolls of hers.
“Ha ha,” she said.
“Seriously,” he said, taking one of her hands in his, playfully spinning her around.
McKenna’s work wardrobe consisted of baggy shirts—either blouses or her funny graphic T-shirts—loose-fitting pants or mom jeans, and always topped by one of what had to be a million oversized cardigan sweaters she owned.
He’d never—NEVER—seen her dressed in anything that told him she had a body that looked like this. She had a legit hourglass figure with decent-sized tits—where the hell had those come from?—and hips that offered a man plenty to hold on to.
And while her figure was mouth-wateringly gorgeous, he didn’t take as much time to admire it as he normally might because he was too fixated on her face.
“Where are your glasses?” he asked.
She pointed to her eyes. “Contacts.”
“Why don’t you wear those all the time?”
McKenna shrugged. “My eyes tend to dry out too quickly with them in, especially if I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen. Which, FYI, is ninety percent of my job. Plus,” she grinned, “I’m usually too lazy in the morning to bother with them. It’s easier to just slap my glasses on and go.”
