I nodded. “Good. I hope she takes Mr. Naese to the cleaners.”
Naomi chuckled. “Look at you, Hana! Growing some claws.”
“It’s the quiet ones.” Ida Jane shook her head.
“Well, we never worried about that with you,” Millie said, bumping her friend’s shoulder.
Now that I’d had a few bites of food and the painkiller washed down with strong, black coffee, I was feeling more human.
“So, I really think we should go to the spa or shopping today,” Naomi said.
“I want to go to the rink,” I said again. I was stuck on the need to be near Paxton, and no amount of suggestions or cajoling would change my mind.
We collected a couple of the other partners and wives who’d come over yesterday and stayed at our place last night. I should have been embarrassed by my lack of memory, but most of them had clearly partied hard, too, so I figured my poor hostess skills would be forgiven.
* * *
The pulsingbeat of Ginuwine’s “Pony” blared through the stadium’s speaker system as Millie, Ida Jane, Keelie, Naomi, and I made our way out toward the ice. Naomi was in the front, and she stopped so suddenly, we bonked into her.
“That can’t be what they’re practicing to,” Millie said.
“Unless Coach has a new plan, no,” Keelie said.
“The hell is going on?” I asked. I was getting better at cursing and telling people my mind. I liked this more assertive version of myself, and Paxton did, too.
“I’m glad you ladies showed up,” Paloma said, joining us. “I wanted to call you, but Silas swore me to secrecy.”
“What’s going on?” Millie asked, pushing forward.
After a few nudges and a firm shove from Ida Jane, who was tiny even compared to me, Naomi moved and the rest of us stepped onto the rink floor.
A collective gasp sighed around us. The guys were on skates, but without their pads or gloves or helmets. They wore, well, way less than I was used to seeing them wear on the ice—as in next to nothing because those tight compression pants molded to their firm muscles.
“Holy McMoley,” Ida Jane whispered. “Maxim’s doing…”
Keelie fanned her face. Her eyes went glassy as she focused on her husband, who was swinging his hips even as he skated backward. “They… I never knew Cormac could move likethat!”
It was like that crazy dream I’d had watchingMagic Mike—the dream that merged male-stripper dance moves with hockey. And, oh my gawd, did these guys pull it off better than I’d imagined.
Millie whimpered, and Naomi whispered a few choice words about Adam’s ass.
The song ended, and the guys regrouped in the middle of the ice. Cormac and Cruz each said a few words before Paxton cupped his hands and yelled, “Again!” up at the sound booth.
He turned back to the guys huddled at the far end of the ice. “Thishasto be perfect.”
“This has to be a surprise,” Naomi muttered.
“It is,” Paloma said, grinning.
“We shouldn’t be here. They’re obviously working so hard to make it—crap! They noticed us!” Naomi turned around, eyes wild. “Lie,” she hissed. “We saw nothing!”
As one, the guys turned toward us as we milled around, trying to appear nonchalant.
Pax skated over, stopping just at the edge of the ice. He studied me for a moment. “We were practicing,” he said.
“What for?” I asked, trying to ignore the image branded in my brain. Paxton was much better looking than the actor in the movie, and the heat in his eyes was for me. Only me.
I could get drunk all over again off of how much this man loved me. Instead, I took a steadying breath and met his lust-filled gaze with my own.
