Page 61 of Pucking Forbidden

Then Jensen makes a low sound under his breath. “Ooooh, that’s interesting.” He’s getting ready to head to the shower, his green eyes glinting with pure mischief as he looks between me and Owen.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I mutter, shoving my pads into my hockey bag.

Owen grins. “You’re going to celebrate?”

“I’m going to hang out,” I clarify.

From two lockers down, Jayce tosses a roll of sock tape at Jensen’s head, laughing. “Just hanging out, huh?”

“What, you guys don't want to support her too?” I shoot back, glaring at the three of them. I stand up, towering over the bench as I pull my shirt off. “At least I’m actually being a decent friend.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Zander grins, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

They’re all smiling at me like fucking idiots. I flash them a dark, murderous glare. It works just enough to get them to stifle their laughs, but the broad, knowing grins stay firmly plastered on their faces.

Owen shakes his head, chuckling as he grabs his car keys. “Yeah, you can come, Wilder. You wanna ride with me?”

“Thanks, but I’ll drive myself,” I grumble, stuffing my sneakers into the bag and pulling a dark t-shirt over my head, doing my best to ignore the hushed chuckles behind my back.

The energy at the rec center’s rink is way different from the stadium. It’s more chaotic and carefree. The kids are laughing as the teachers call out instructions that half of them don’t listen to. It’s a lot more innocent and just fun. I hang back near the entrance when Owen and I first arrive, my hands shoved into my jacket pockets as I scan the ice.

Hadley’s in the middle of a group of kids, crouched down as she talks to one of them. Another kid is clinging to the boards behind her. One more wobbles beside her. They look like they can’t help but be drawn to her, and they hover around her with eager faces.

She laughs at something one of them says, the sound carrying just enough for me to catch it, and something in my chest shifts. I’ve seen her smile and heard her laugh, but not like this. She looks so at ease, as if she’s totally in her element doing what she was meant to be doing.

She’s wearing a purple skate dress with long, sheer sleeves and a short skirt. Her hair is braided in a side braid, and her skin is flushed with a warm, radiant heat.

There is this literal light around her right now, glowing and incandescent, and I can't help but feel like a moth hopelessly drawn into the flame.

She looks so at ease and completely in her element. Watching the animated way her hands move as she talks, the sudden, fierce pull of attraction hits me like a physical blow to the solar plexus. I want to step into her space, to feel that warmth firsthand, to trace the line of her jaw and find out if she tastes as intoxicating as she looks. My gaze lingers on her curves, the heavy desire pooling low in my gut.

We’re just friends, I force myself to think. You’re the broken-down hockey player, and she’s the coach’s granddaughter. Keep your hands to yourself.

I move further inside and join Owen, who’s leaning against the boards, watching Millie’s group across the ice. He glances over at me with a grin and nods toward Hadley.

“Dude, she’s good.”

“Of course she is,” I smirk, my gaze still locked on her.

At that moment, the kid hovering closest to her side loses his edge. He’s about four years old, wearing a neon-orange padded snowsuit that is so ridiculously thick and puffy he looks like a mini marshmallow mascot. He can barely bend his elbows, let alone balance on two blades. His skates slide outward in a perfect V, and he drops straight onto his padded butt with a dull whump.

“You’re okay,” I hear her saying in a calm, reassuring voice. “That was actually a solid fall.”

He blinks at her. “It was?”

“Yeah,” she nods. A stray lock of her hair falls across her cheek, and she doesn't even bother to brush it away. “You stayed sitting up and didn’t hit your head. That’s top priority.”

He appears to consider that.

“Okay,” he replies at length.

“Okay,” she echoes, smiling. “Now try again.”

She helps him to his feet, and he begins trying again without hesitation. Damn, she knows what she’s doing.

I continue to watch her, the cold air of the rink stinging my cheeks.

Just as the session wraps up, a tiny whirlwind comes flying down the boards. Millie, wearing a kid-sized Night Hawks jersey with leggings and figure skates, spots me and immediately skates over.