Page 17 of Breakaway Hearts

I can’t tell if she’s questioning that fact, or that it’s the reason I’m here.

“Technically, he approved my suggestion to come, but the offer stands.”

She considers this. “You know Jay turned down a full ride, right?”

I did not.

“I know he turned down a spot on the team,” I tell her, because it is literally all that I know. “But I have my ways.”

I’m flirting in a way I definitely won’t with Jason, but she scoffs. I take a step towards her and she swallows, biting her bottom lip like she wants to taste me, before I even get close enough to brush the strands of blonde hair out of her big brown eyes.

“I’m assuming he’s not home?” I try not to gloat at the effect I’m having on her.

“He’s at Slapshots.”

Our hockey bar. That works in my favor. But convincing him can wait until Madison gives me an indication she no longer wants me here. Which might take a while.

“You didn’t join him?”

“Didn’t want to run into cocky hockey players.” She looks at me pointedly, but her crossed arms don’t stop her eyes from taking me in. Liking what she sees.

“Are you saying you were purposely avoiding me…” I take a step towards her and her breath hitches. Her hands come to my chest as if to push me away, but they settle there instead, letting her feel how fast my heart is beating. She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip, and all I want to do is push her against that door and pick up where we left off last night. “But ended up home alone for me?”

Her breath catches, but I can’t tell if it’s because of what I said, or the old woman who comes out of a neighboring apartment. Either way, we both take a step back and she shakes her head at me.

“Good afternoon,” I tell the woman, who eyes me suspiciously.

“Are you a friend of Jason’s?” she asks.

“I would love to be, Mrs…”

“Olsen.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Olsen.”

Madison rolls her eyes at me, but the old woman is blushing.

“Weren’t you heading out?” I ask as Madison turns to unlock her door.

“I forgot something.” She sighs.

“If it’s because you’re jealous, I promise Mrs. Olsen means nothing to me.”

I get a reluctant smile as she shakes her head.

“Good luck with Jason,” Madison says over the blaring of her alarm before shutting the door. It isn’t until the bolt clicks into place that she turns it off.

“She can be prickly, that one.” Mrs. Olsen says when I join her in the elevator, that she held for me. “Nice girl, but…”

“It’s part of her charm,” I assure her.

“If you say so.” She shrugs.

My ego is not in a great place, because that’s twice Madison turns me down, and I’m not even used to asking once. But somehow, I’m smiling as I make my way to Slapshots, because Madison was smiling when I left. Reluctantly, but she smiled a lot, even if she never meant to. It looked like she couldn’t help herself, which, honestly, makes me want to keep doing it. I forgot how much fun it is to work for it.

My teammates are at our usual table in the back, yelling at the TV screen – and each other – over the game, but I scan the bar instead, looking for a hockey player. Which, now I think on it, really isn’t much to go on.

I’m about 80% sure I’ve found him when I figure a quick Google search for Jason Hargraves can’t hurt.