Page 93 of Holding Penalty

Maybe I had this planned subconsciously all day, because I baked way too many pastries this morning. Wrapping them up and bringing them to the arena for the players and stuff under the guise of me “not wanting them to go to waste” turns out to be the perfect excuse.

The staff at the arena recognize me by now. They tell me I can go back to the catering area where the players are hanging out as they wait for their media session. It’s kind of a cool feeling to just be nodded past security and have free rein to walk around a professional hockey arena.

I turn a corner in one of the hallways and almost walk straight into a woman I recognize but haven’t really been introduced to yet. We both gasp and leap back at just the right time, avoiding a collision.

She lightly strikes her forehead with her palm. “Sorry, totally my fault. I had my eyes glued on my phone. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

I smile and shake my head. “No problem. I’m sure working with a team like this, you’re always juggling about a dozen tasks at once.”

She gives me a confidential smile. “That’s true, but I can’t use that excuse this time. I was actually paying attention to this book I’m reading. I’m so obsessed that every spare moment I have I’m opening my Kindle app.”

My brow jumps in excitement at meeting a fellow reader, especially a fellow reader who gets wrapped up enough to wander hallways with her eyes pointed at a book, even to the point of bodily risk.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

“The new Susie McCabe book. Do you know her?”

I gasp. “Are you kidding!? I love her! That’s the next book I’m going to read after I’m finished my current read. Is it as good as the others in the series?”

“Better.”

I twist my shoulders with excitement. “Ohh, I want to ask for details so bad, but I know I can’t do that to myself.”

“I’d never spoil a book for a fellow reader, even if she asked me to.”

I nod my head gravely. “That’s the highest ethical standard any person can hold themselves to.”

“I’m Ines,” she introduces herself.

“Piper,” I reply. I try to shift the shrink-wrapped tray of treats in my arms to extend my hand to her, but she waves me off.

“Those look so good I’d kick myself if I were responsible for you dropping them. Let’s take a page from my home country.” She leans forward and air-kisses me on both cheeks.

I laugh. “Very Mediterranean.”

“Yep. I’m from Portugal. We call them beijinhos.” She tilts a shoulder. “I went to school in America, though, so no accent. Which kinda sucks. I think it would be hot to have an accent.” She sighs. “Oh, well.”

Ines doesn’t need anything extra to be hot, that’s for sure. She’s a kind of gorgeous that’s borderline intimidating. Olive skin, raven black hair, piercing dark eyes, perfect makeup, and dressed in a way that exudes professionalism and confidence.

“You’re here to visit Nash?” she asks.

“Yep,” I nod.

“I’ll walk you back to where they are. I was on my way to my office to do something, but it can wait. Besides, I’m eyeing that red velvet cupcake you’ve got there, and I know those damn hockey players will inhale that entire plate in a matter of seconds if I don’t snag it first.”

“It’s yours,” I say.

When we walk into the catering room, Adriano Zikos, one of Nash’s teammates, directs his eyes at us and gasps. “Piper!” he calls. “Stay away!”

I knit my brows. “What are you talking about?”

“From her!” he exclaims, pointing his index finger straight at Ines next to me, like a scene in a horror movie.

Ines sighs. “Try to ignore him. Really, take advantage of the privilege of being able to. I wish I could.”

“Nash, this is a serious problem,” Adriano says, playing up his agitation like he’s on stage. “I like your wife. She’s cool. We can’t let Ines ruin her.”

I fix the Greek player with a harsh gaze. “Adriano, if you don’t stop being mean to Ines, I’m not letting you have any of these,” I motion toward the full tray in my hands.