“I didn’t, thank you very much.”
Never thought I’d prioritize a sport over my sports romances, but weirder things have happened. Maybe.
I wander to the buffet table and make myself a plate before joining Kennedy. Neither of us says a word as we ogle the players warming up. Honestly, it’s very suggestive. One player rests on his knee pads, pushing his legs spread eagle and tilting his hips down to the ice. Another swivels and thrusts his hips to “open them up.” I told Cole it looks like they’re fucking air, and for a solid fifteen minutes, he couldn’t decide whether he was offended or amused.
“Cole must be flexible,” Kennedy comments with a slow clap. The man in question maneuvers his body into a stretch he calls the figure 4 twist.
“My sex life has definitely reaped the benefits of his workout routine,” I admit. Considering I’m just over five feet and can barely touch my toes, Cole’s flexibility is all the more impressive.
The fully clothedMagic Mikeshow doesn’t go on for much longer. As the team takes their starting positions on the ice, my voice gets lost among the hundreds of fans yelling their support.
As Cole takes his spot on center ice for the face-off, my heart skips a beat. It’s wild that this confident, crazy-talented hockey player is the guy who blessedly admittedAlien Lovers of Planet Dexxarwas a “decent read once you get over the aliens having two cocks.”
The first period is aggressively physical from the start. It’s not unexpected, given the massive rivalry between the teams, but damn. Logan only lasts seven minutes before being penalized for tripping another player, giving our opponent a power play. Even though the Hellcats have the upper hand during these next two minutes, they only get one shot on goal, which is blocked by Cameron.
I whistle under my breath. “Cam’s impressively nimble.” He’s got the height and muscle mass of an eighteenth-century Highlander but moves with the smoothness of an eel. Not that I’d ever tell Cole that. The last time I complimented one of his teammates, he got all growly. Although it was kind of sexy.
“He’s an asshole.”
“Cameron?” I frown at my best friend. He’s the quietest of Cole’s teammates, preferring to observe rather than participate in conversations, but I’d hardly call him an asshole for not being outspoken.
“He said my cake—the one I make with the raspberry whipped mascarpone—was dry.” She tosses her dark blond hair over her shoulder. “My cakes are not toodry, Maya. They’re perfect. He’s clearly taken one too many pucks to the head.”
My best friend can hold a grudge like no one I’ve ever met. She ran for class president in high school simply to beat out the girl who made fun of her for wearing her sister’s hand-me-downs back in middle school. She shares a Netflix account with her family, and any time she’s mad at her sisters, she fast-forwards the show they’re watching so they never know where they left off. So Cameron calling her cake dry? Yeah, he’s now forever in her burn book.
“When did he eat your cake?” I ask. “And yes, I realize how inappropriate that sounded.”
“At some Bobcats Foundation event,” she admits with a huff.
I smile at the mention of the Bobcats Foundation, knowing that it brought Goose and Cole together. “Maybe he just doesn’t like cake.”
“Well then he’s not only an asshole, he’s an idiotic asshole with no taste.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Watch the game. Your boy’s back on the ice.”
I once told Cole that it’s impossible to tell who’s who out there. That they all look the same in their uniforms and helmets. And they skate too fast for me to read the names on the backs of their jerseys. Yet now I find him instantly. I always do, like he’s a homing beacon. It’s the way he’s the first one back on the ice during a line shift and the way the other skaters defer to him. And yes, now that I’m overly familiar with every aspect of his muscular body, his frame is easily recognizable.
I don’t take my attention off the action for the remainder of the second period. The Hellcats get a couple of shots off, especially when two Bobcats end up in the penalty box, but Cameron blocks them with ease. As I said: nimble as hell.
Cole crosses the blue line, passing the puck to Logan, and takes off. Logan bypasses the Hellcats’ defense with a weird-ass turn that makes him look part-ballerina. He crosses the puck to Jake, who knifes it down low back to where Cole is now positioned. He takes the shot, and though their goalie blocks it, he corrals the rebound, turns, and buries it in the net, giving the Bobcats a one-point lead.
The crowd goes absolutely wild, and I join in, clapping and shrieking with the best of them. When I realize Kennedy is still sitting, I turn her way, only to see her holding her phone and pointing it at me instead of the ice.
I point toward the rink. “The game is that way.”
“Oh, I know.” She laughs. “But you’re so cute. I couldn’t help but capture the moment.”
“Stop being creepy.” I narrow my eyes, giving her the best glare I can. It’s a struggle after the play I just witnessed. I’m still too excited. “And stop smiling at me like that.”
She continues to grin at me like a lunatic but puts her phone down. “You’re the one who can’t stop smiling because you’rein love.”
“Remind me why I like you again?”
“You don’t like me, youloveme,” she corrects. “Just like youloveCole.”
I’m saved from responding when the crowd breaks into deafening cheers. I turn back to the ice just in time to see Cameron turn aside yet another shot by the Hellcats. He may not like Kennedy’s cake, but not even she can dismiss his skill.
“Maybe it’s not full love yet, but you’re at least falling in love,” she presses, once again drawing my attention away from the game.
My lips twitch despite my effort to keep a straight face. “I’ll admit I now know why they call it falling in love and not something nice and sweet like sashaying into love.”
