Page 12 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“Trevor’s having the time of his life,” Daphne says, smiling at the picture.

Mallory looks up from the screen to see if I’m done looking. When I nod, she puts her phone away. “He is. He loves those boys. He’s going to be a wonderful dad someday when he settles down. He’s so good with kids.”

I feel a twinge when she says that. It’s confirming what I already know, but it still sucks to hear it’s true. Doesn’t matter. He’s only my dance partner. There’s no future, so no point even thinking about it.

With the presentations over, we follow the crowd out of the stands and join the team families. When we’re all there, we go to the buses to meet the players and team staff that are waiting for us. I follow Daphne and Mallory and continue down the aisle after they sit next to their guys. My plan is to take the first open seat because it’s awkward as hell to not really know anyone and try to fit in.

“Sophie, I saved a seat for you!” Trevor booms from the back.

A wave ofoohsflows through the bus like we’re back in primary school.

As heat rises up my neck, I curse my fair Irish skin and the obvious blush. There’s no gracious way to say no, so I trudge to the back and sit next to him. “Thanks for saving me a seat. Congratulations on winning the game.”

The smile he gives me is so boyishly sweet, my heart stutters a bit. He’s a good-looking man. It’s natural to be attracted to him. It doesn’t mean anything. “Did you enjoy it? It was so cool! I love things like this and competing against the best. You know how it is, you’re a competitive person.”

That brings me up short. Am I a competitive person? I want to be noticed. I don’t care about winning except for the fact that the winner’s who people remember. No one remembers the silver medalist. But I don’t want to win just to say I’m the best. I care about winning the show because that’s how I’m going to get the pro spot. I don’t want to keep being a background dancer. Background dancers don’t get to choreograph.

I don’t know how to explain that to Trevor, so I just nod. “Yeah. I know how it is.”

* * *

The buses pull up to the terminal so we can board the team plane back to New Jersey. We didn’t practice at all during this trip so it wasn’t necessary I come along but I can’t say I regret it. Trevor and I looked at our phones until we reached the airport, and now that we’re on our way back to New Jersey, I’m sitting by myself and taking a nap. I wake up as the plane touches down, and I find Trevor sleeping beside me. I nudge him awake, and we keep each other upright as we leave the plane. Once we’re in the cool night air, he looks down at me, yawning.

“You want to practice tonight?” he asks as we zoom through the winter evening along the Atlantic City Expressway on yet another bus.

I look at him in surprise. “Aren’t you tired after the game?” Even though it meant nothing in the standings, I know the players took it seriously. Trevor had some hard hits and trips, even from his own teammate. I know it’s important to allow your body to rest after heavy exertion.

“Soph, I’m going to be tired for the next two months. I’m going to have games and practices the whole time we’re doing the show. If you don’t want to practice, that’s fine. We’ll start tomorrow. It’s your call.”

I’m impressed with his willingness to work. “Sure. We can start with the basics in my room, if that’s okay? No point getting lights on in the theater or studio. We’ll go over the music and start with the first counts. The dance is ninety seconds. There will be about twenty or twenty-one eight counts of choreography. Do you think you’ll be okay learning that?”

“Yeah, no problem. Not going to lie, it takes a lot of repetition for me to get choreo, but I eventually get it. I’m better at freestyle. But I’ll learn it. I promise to practice until I drop. If they make me do this competition, then I’m winning it. Second place is a waste of time and effort.”

As the streets of Atlantic City pass by in a blur of traffic and street lights outside the window, I see both competitive spirit and sincerity in his hazel eyes. It does funny things to me. My tummy flips, and I feel like my heart does a happy little cha-cha.Not good, Sophie.Not good.

When we get off the bus, I expect him to swing by the parking garage so he can drop off his luggage before heading to my room. Instead, he takes my bag, along with his, and follows me upstairs. He catches my questioning glance and shrugs.

“Why waste time going back and forth? The sooner we get upstairs, the sooner we practice. You were saying how every minute counts. We dance as long as we can, and then I either go home or call down to the desk. If there’s a room, they’ll give it to me.”

“That’s convenient,” I say as we walk down the hallway.

He nods. “One of the perks of being on the team.”

After unlocking the door to my suite, I grab my suitcase from Trevor and wheel it into the bedroom.

“You’re welcome to use the bathroom if you want to change into something more comfortable to dance in,” I call over my shoulder. He’s in slacks, dress shoes, and a button-down shirt. We aren’t doing anything too crazy, but with the way his clothes are tailored to fit his muscular body to perfection, I’m not sure how freely he can move without ripping something. Would be a shame to ruin clothes that fit his body like a second skin. I bite my lip then shake my head. No, no. I’m not admiring Trevor. Just his tailor. Not that big, beautiful body. Just the way his clearly talented tailor fits it. Yeah, that’s all I’m doing.

I change into a T-shirt and capri leggings. I shouldn’t be ashamed of noticing Trevor’s form. It’s natural to appreciate an attractive man. He’s good-looking, funny, well liked. I’ve seen enough showmances to know that working with someone hours a day for weeks and months creates an intoxicating intimacy. We haven’t been together enough yet for anything to develop, but with the way I can sense him in a room, how I react to his woodsy, manly scent, my comfort with his hands on me, the way we kiss…whoa, can’t think about these things. I know the show’s producers love it when there are hints of romance brewing. It’s helped a few couples win the competition. But I don’t want to win for any reason other than talent. I’m sure Trevor will get votes because he’s charming and good-looking. Maybe there will be hockey fans watching. But I want our team to win because we’re the best. BecauseI’mthe best.

But to be the best, we need to practice. So, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and wander out to the seating area of the suite. Trevor changed into shorts and a T-shirt and is sitting on the sofa, tying his sneakers. I grab my laptop and a couple of bottles of water for us and plop on the cushion next to him. I’m a professional dancer. I should be graceful. But I try not to lie, so I have to admit I plopped.

“Okay,” I say, opening my laptop and settling back against the tan cushions of the sofa. “You know we have the cha-cha. We heard the song. There’s a live band, and they play a portion of the song. We’re going to learn the dance by count, not by the music. Are you okay with that?”

He grimaces. “Yeah. It’s going to take a lot of repetition, though. For dancing, it’s all about the music for me. I feel it and then move. What I did with counts were the cheers and stunts. They aren’t fluid like a dance. I’m sorry.”

I appreciate his candor. “How do you learn hockey plays? You have plays, right?”

He nods.

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