My phone vibrates with a new text message.
I flick the screen and immediately start to laugh at the photo so blurry I can barely make out anything, but I’m pretty sure it’s two foreheads. Mine and Cam’s from our night of ice skating in Lovelake. I can just barely see the edge of Cam’s cap and my winter hat.
Guess my photo skills need a little work. Take two sometime?
I’m smiling as I write him back.This is why I don’t like selfies. LOL.I hesitate and then add,You’re looking great out there on the ice. We usually suck on the road.
Can’t wait to come home so you can watch in person.
My fingers freeze over the keys. What do I say to that?
Before I have to decide, he sends another text.
I’ll see you soon, Savannah.
See you soon.
* * *
The evening the Cannons finally return to Climax, I grab my coat, lock the office door behind me, and head outside. I immediately feel the bone-chilling cold hit me, and I hurry to the arena.
When I reach the rink, I take off my hat and pause just outside the door to fix my hair. I know Cam must be inside, and staying cold a few seconds longer is worth it if my ponytail isn’t sticking out from the side of my head like a tail.
As soon as I step inside, the first thing I see is Cam with his dad in the corner of the rink.
Cam’s wearing his practice jersey and pads. His skates are on, and he’s got his helmet under one arm. His dark eyes flick to meet my gaze, and he raises his hand in a wave. His dad, knee-deep in what looks to be a lecture, doesn’t notice me at all. I wave back and keep walking toward the bench.
“Savannah!” Craig calls out as I reach him. “About time you joined us! Do you have the plays you drew up while we were away? I want to try one or two in practice.”
I hand them to him without a word, and he glances at the paper.
“Now run through this for me again. How will this one work?” he mutters as he glances at the first option.
I point at the diagram I drew up. “D1 moves for the puck while D2’s keeping watch on the play. D2 calls out to D1, who can then turn up on the strong side and pass to LW. If LW is tied up, D1 could also pass to C. It gives a second option rather than just one if things don’t go our way the first time.”
“Huh.” Craig stares at the diagram. “Yeah, I get it. The Devils love to cram players around the net, so this play would work perfectly in that situation.”
“Right.” I look up, right into Cam’s intense gaze.
“That’s a brilliant play,” he says, gesturing to the paper in Craig’s hands. “You’re amazing at this, Savannah.”
I think that’s the first time someone’s been so excited about my play design. Craig tends to do a lot of grunting and not much else. And the previous coach didn’t believe anyone could call the right play other than him.
“Thank you,” I murmur as I turn away and grab the empty water cooler.
I slowly and methodically start to drag the cooler to the tap. I’ve made it about five feet when, without warning, two strong hands gently grip my hips and move me to the side.
“I’ve got it.” Cam takes the cooler from me and tilts his head for me to follow him.
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest as I hustle along next to him.
“I know. I want to.” As we reach the tap and he starts to fill the cooler, he turns to face me fully.
And then—there’s really no other word for this—Camcaressesme with his gaze. He’s looked at me before but never with this much focus. He starts at my face, concentrating on my mouth, and when I’m literally squirming with arousal, his eyes lower to my breasts, which are fairly hidden beneath my winter coat. But my nipples don’t care—they’re immediately aware of the attention being given to them. He scans down my torso and my legs before returning his gaze to meet my wide eyes.
“Wha—” Here I go losing my voice again. “What did you just do?”
He flashes that ridiculously flirtatious smile of his and leans in close to me. “I haven’t seen you in a week. And right now? I imagined doing what I just did with my eyes with other parts of me.”
