“Hi. Yes, that’s me.” I extend my hand, mustering a smile. “And you are?”
“Sierra!” She clasps my palm in both of hers, her acrylic nails sharp against my skin. “Torrance and I have been together for eight months. Almost nine. It’s so crazy how time flies when you’re in love, right?”
“It really is,” I say, managing to suppress my middle-aged cynicism, but just barely. Idoremember that time flew when I was in love, but mostly because Teddy was so hot and cold that it kept me in a constant state of anxiety.
“This is Luce.” Sierra gestures to the second woman—mid-twenties, dark hair in a sleek ponytail, wearing designer jeans and a Voodoo jersey knotted at her waist, showing off her toned stomach.
Luce’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she rasps, “Hey. I’m Zane’s girlfriend. He’s new. Offense. Just traded to the Voodoo this year. We saw the princess thing on Insta, by the way. So cute. Great publicity.”
“Thank you.” I glance around, wondering if I should find a seat or not. “It was for a good cause.”
“Come on, sit with us!” Sierra grabs my arm, bouncing us both to the closest couch. “The couches are so much morecomfortable than the other seats. And this way you can sit crisscross applesauce if you want.” She settles in beside me, kicking off her sandals before crossing her long, tanned legs. “I have to get comfortable before I go live, or the vibes are all off.”
I blink. “Live?”
Luce settles on Sierra’s other side, pulling out her phone. “We’re doing a joint live story for the opener. Engagement has been insane this week, so we want to be sure to build on the momentum, you know?”
I make a vague sound of agreement. I have an active social media presence for the business—you can’t get away with ignoring social media these days—but it’s something I leave to my PR girl. I have enough on my plate at work without worrying about creating content while I’m knee-deep in customer service and vendor wrangling.
Sierra angles her phone, checking her reflection in the camera. “Okay, so I’m thinking we chat about what it’s like in the WAG VIP room, show them the bar and everything. And then grab some of the warm-ups, especially the goalies humping the ice.”
Luce lets out a throaty laugh. “For sure. They can’t get enough of that shit.”
“What filter are you using?” Sierra’s lips turn down. “I feel like my usual is making me too pale. And my eyes look weird.”
“Yeah, that one doesn’t pop in this kind of light,” Luce says, scrolling through her phone. “Try the sun-kissed glam. We don’t want to look pale now that we’re bikini queens.”
“So true!” Sierra taps at her screen with a soft squeal. “I’m so glad One Hundred Degrees wanted us both! How perfect is that!” Seeming to remember, I’m alive, she glances my way with a smile. “We’re both influencers for our favorite swimsuit brand. I’m so psyched.”
“And it’ll give us a reason to stay bikini-ready through the season,” Luce agrees. “I’m determined not to let the holiday plump fuck me this winter. It cost me at least four figures last year, I swear.”
They dive into a conversation about engagement metrics, sponsored content, and ways to circumvent the new “bullshit algo that suppresses everything,” which sounds exhausting. I work hard, but I honestly would rather be dragged naked across burning coals than have to worry about pleasing an algorithm.
Anyone who thinks the machines haven’t already won is kidding themselves…
I turn my attention to the ice, where the players are trickling out for warm-ups. I scan the jerseys, looking for Nix’s number.
My heart jerks as I spot him.
There he is, gliding across the ice with a mixture of confidence and grace that’s ridiculously sexy…
But then, mastery is always hot, and it’s obvious in the way he moves that he knows exactly what he’s doing on the ice. He knows exactly what he’s doing off the ice, too, a fact that has had me reaching for my vibrator more often in the past week than I have in months.
I wanted to go home with him Monday night with an intensity that was, frankly, a little scary.
Which is a problem.
I can’t afford to take my eye off the prize. Neither can he. And even when the reputation rehab and revenge portion of our arrangement is through, Nix and I are from two different worlds, a fact driven home by how uncomfortable I feel right now.
It’s not that Sierra and Luce aren’t nice—it was sweet of them to go out of their way to welcome me, when the other women seemed content to pretend I was a ghost—but I’m pretty sure we have nothing in common.
Aside from finding the guys we’re dating hot when they skate.
“God, that man,” Sierra murmurs, her gaze on the ice. “Torrance is so fire when he’s in uniform.”
I watch Nix take a shot, the puck flying past the goalie’s shoulder at roughly the speed of light. Yum.
“Okay, we should hit it,” Luce says, leaning forward to meet my gaze across Sierra. “You want to join us, Charlotte?”
