Page 178 of Risking the Pucking Defense

I love this soft side of him, but I can’t deny that the force he turns into on the ice turns me on like nothing else.

“I want a photo of you in my jersey,” he shouts a second before the front door slams closed.

I fall back into bed and pull the covers over my naked body, my face nuzzling his pillow so I can pretend he’s still here.

If it wasn’t already abundantly clear, I’ve got it really freaking bad for Hayden Monroe.

I didn’t see it coming, but damn, it’s more than anything I ever could have imagined.

I didn’t linger in bed for long after Hayden left. My to-do list was piling up, and after a few minutes of reminiscing on our time together the previous night, and of course, our early morning activities before he dragged his ass out of bed, I did the same and got ready to leave for work.

As promised, he messaged as soon as they landed, and then a few more times throughout the day. But the clock is now ticking down toward puck drop, and my stomach is in knots knowing that he’ll be trying to focus but struggling to do so.

Every game, he’s got a little better. But that anxiety of not having Rylee there still gets him every time.

I blow out a long breath, wishing that I could be there for him.

My knees bounce nervously, my cell on the coffee table in front of me as I wait to see if he’s going to see my latest message and respond before he goes out there.

But as the minutes tick down, I figure that he’s too busy. Maybe it’s so much easier this time that he doesn’t need me.

A little sadness trickles through me.

Of course I want him to be able to go out there without freaking out. But also, deep down, I like that I get to be a part of his pre-game ritual. It makes me feel important, needed.

I startle when my apartment buzzer goes off, but my cell lights up with a notification for it.

I tap the alert and wait for the call to connect.

“Good evening, Ms. Caldwell. There’s a parcel at your door.”

I frown. I might get regular deliveries, seeing as I spend almost all my time at the arena or travelling, but I don’t think I’m expecting anything.

I take my cell with me just in case Hayden messages.

“What is this?” I whisper to myself as I lift the parcel and take it into my apartment.

As I lower my ass to the couch to open it, my cell starts ringing.

My heart lurches, and knowing exactly who it is, I swipe the screen and let the video connect.

“Hey, are you ready?” I ask when his face appears. “Wait, are you in a closet?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And I’m on the clock. I’d have called earlier, but I was waiting.”

“What for?” I ask, confused.

“Do you have your parcel?”

“My…” I glance down at the package in my lap. “Yeah, it’s right here,” I say, holding it up to show him. “Did you order it?”

“Yeah. Open it.”

“O-okay,” I say, propping my cell up against a pillow so Hayden can see. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

I rip the outer bag open, and the second a flash of a very familiar green catches my eye inside, I know exactly what it is.