The game proved physical,which engaged me mentally. I lowered my shoulder and pushed off hard with my skate, nailing the opposing player into the boards. His breath rushed from him in a painful grunt, but he raised his stick and ground it into the back of my knee.
I rammed him again, harder, for the cheap shot before pulling back in time to see Stol slap the puck deep into the net. I roared, raising my arms as I powered toward my teammates. The final whistle blew, and the game ended. Thanks to the last-minute goal, we added a win to our stats.
Not a bad showing against the third-best team in the league. We ranked number two even though few pundits expected the Wildcatters to pull out another season like last year’s—the one that landed the coveted Stanley Cup in our front office and made Cormac, Stol, Cruz, Naese, and even me household names for the hockey fandom.
With one last pat on Stol’s shoulder, I skated toward the bench. My gaze returned to the seats where Ida should be. She was gone. Disappointment slammed into me harder than the opposing player’s stick.
“Good game.”
I whipped around toward her soft voice, the anger and bitterness of a moment ago sliding away, much like the sweat that dripped off my chin.
“It’s even more brutal than football, and I thought that was a take-your-chances sport,” she said. “I’ll have to get more pointers.”
She blinked up at me, those big brown eyes.
“I’m so glad you were here. I hate that I have to fly out with the team, leaving you alone for the rest of our wedding night—”
She shook her head. “You do not know how football-obsessed my family is. We understand that sports come first…always. Go shake hands and shower.”
“You’ll come to the locker room? I want to talk to you again, kiss you before we have to leave.” I wanted to do more than that, but I didn’t have time.
“One of the staffers will bring you down,” I said, waving one of our staff over and introducing him to my wife.
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Go do what you need to do.”
Before I could respond, she’d turned and headed back up the stairs. Those toned legs pumped up each step and the globes of her ass jiggled a little. I swallowed hard, trying to ease the dryness in my mouth, the need burning in my chest.
Stol threw his arm over my shoulder and we skated to center ice, telling our opponents good game, as expected. Stolly kept his arm around me, too close for comfort, making me more aware of the sweat dripping from my skin, chafing against my compression shirt under the pads.
“You have to admit, it’s nice to have a pretty lady tell you how awesome you are after a game,” he said, waving at a teenager, who immediately hopped up and down and squealed.
“That comment, when you make it while smiling at a young girl, is disturbing,” I said.
“Nah, man, I don’t give a shit about that girl—just glad she bought a ticket. That’s why I smiled at her.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re really holding out, saving yourself for Ida Jane’s friend?” I asked.
“I would, if she’d have me.” He skated off, defeated. “And you know her name is Millie. Stop trying to piss me off,” he called back over his shoulder.
Hmm, that was interesting. Maybe Ida Jane would have some thoughts.
And I was right back to thinking aboutmywife.
Ida Jane would fly home tomorrow and stay in my house. We would share meals, laughs, snuggles on the couch, each other’s bodies.
I wanted a wedding night. Badly. But it would wait until we were home. My house was nowour home. And by the time I arrived there tomorrow, we’d be the proud owners of a furry guard dog.
Chapter15
Ida Jane
Maxim picked me up from the airport instead of my suggestion of taking a rideshare to his place. The mid-afternoon sunshine filtered through the tinted windows, and I noted the faint signs of exhaustion lining Maxim’s eyes. Last night, he’d kissed me goodbye at the arena after eleven just before he boarded the bus to head to the airport with the rest of the team.
I’d appreciated the time to myself, which I’d used to think—and panic. When the anxiety sizzling through my blood grew too large for me to sleep, I’d opened the video stream with Millie, who hadn’t answered. This morning, after tossing and turning, wishing Maxim was there to hold me again, I called Keelie. She didn’t answer either, but at least she had called me back during her lunch break. I’d already been on the plane, flying home.
Milliestillhadn’t responded, but that was a worry for another day. Crazy that last week I’d been scrimping to save enough for a deposit on a halfway decent apartment, and now I lived in one of the swankiest neighborhoods inside the Beltway.
“Are you glad to be home?” Maxim asked as he settled into his car.
