He ends with a time of 25.775 seconds. Stupidly impressive.
Almost equally impressive is Noah Kain. He’s almostmoreelegant, but just a little slower. 26.939.
“Yep, made a good decision not to participate in that one,” Caulder comments.
I glance his way to see Ethan nod. “I think we should set that shit up back home, though. We need to practice those moves. We can’t all be Max.”
Max winks at him, giving him a hand flip and a big grin.
Ethan tosses him a teasing kiss.
I listen half-heartedly as more interviews take place while the ice is once more rearranged. My attention is, once again, on Caulder. Because why the fuck not? Apparently, he’s going to be my weekend obsession. My guess is I could probably have done better at these events if I hadn’t had his dick down my throat.
Those saucy memories just keep springing up.
Last event in round one is accuracy. There are four targets, one at each corner of the goal. We need to hit each. There’s a player at each side of the net passing us pucks.
I anticipate I’ll do okay with the top two corners. The bottoms are going to be my weakness; so my strategy is aiming for those first.
I’m about mid pack when I head out. True to form, it takes me several pucks to get the first two. Far too many attempts. Especially with the bottom right corner. However, once I actually hit that bitch, the top two are easy and I shatter the Styrofoam targets easily.
Caulder does far better than me. Naturally. I’ve always admired him as a hockey player. He’s damn good, and his concentration is commendable. While I know my attention on him has been borderline obsessive for reasons other than hockey, he’s fucking good. My admiration of his skills has also increased.
In the end, I make the top eight at number five. Not bad. Not nearly as impressive as Max in first, and fucking Caulder in second! I’m not surprised by his talent, he’s just that amazing. I always knew he was.
Yet, as I listen to him talk to reporters, he’s humble as fuck, claiming that the next round could very well drop him to the bottom. That there’s a reason he doesn’t often get called for shootouts. He’s not the best one-on-one.
When asked what strategy he has going in, he kind of laughs. “My goalie will basically be picked for me by that time,” he says, referring to the order of events beginning with Ivanovich in eighth with points and then moving up to first from there. “So it really depends on which goalie I get.”
“Any predictions on who you’ll end up facing?” Avianna asks.
Caulder laughs again, shaking his head. “Azure Dayne. He’s not only a badass—can I say that? No, sorry. He’s not only a beast, but his goalie stare is intense. I won’t be surprised if he’s picked last, and while no one likes to be picked last, in this case, it’s a compliment. No one wants to face the most difficult goalie one-on-one.”
I glance toward the chute and wonder if I should choose Azure. Just so Caulder has a fighting chance. Azure is scary good in a shootout. There’s no way I’m going to win this thing against Max. Not after seeing the way he moved in the stick handling competition. He’s the one to beat, with Caulder and Noah hot on his heels.
Caulder sits next to me and glances my way with a cute little smile. “You having fun watching me like a creep?” he murmurs.
A grin spreads across my face. “Just scoping out my competition, Haines. Don’t flatter yourself.”
He snorts. “Right. Forgive me for my assumption.”
I’d love to keep this banter going, but I don’t. The line is very close right now, so I turn my attention to the peeps putting out the new obstacles.
“Which part of this has you most worried?” I ask.
“The second to last. Lifting the puck over the barrier and shooting into the tiny ass net.” He shakes his head. “I’m decent at accuracy, but that part makes me most nervous. You?”
“Moving around the little bridges and only hitting the green ones. There’s a reason I didn’t do stick handling.”
Caulder smirks. “I don’t know, Duval. I think you’re pretty good at handling a stick.”
The teasing way his eyes glint at me makes my stomach flip. Fuck. I’m going to show him how I can handle a stick. As soon as we’re back in the room.
This better hurry the fuck up.
CHAPTER 11
CAULDER
