Page 4 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“It’s like a little side-to-side movement that adds flair and fun to the dance. Feel the music and let your body respond to the beat.”

Oh, my body is responding, all right. The way her eyes widen slightly makes me wonder if her witch powers include mind reading. They certainly include making me lose focus.

“Um…” Sophie looks like she’s trying to remember what she was going to say. “The cha-cha is all about having fun and enjoying the music. It’ll take practice and working together, but I’m confident you’re going to get it. We’ve got this.”

“We do,” I say, giving her a hug. Once I have my arms around her, I decide to go for it and lift her up and spin with her. I hear her giggle for the first time, and after the craziness we’ve gone through the past couple of days, it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve heard this year.

There’s about twenty minutes before I need to get to The Nest. We listen to our music. It’s a fast-paced song from the early 90s. If my parents ever went to a club, they would’ve danced to it. Not that I can picture them ever being somewhere more exciting than the library on a Saturday night.

“Are you going to the Devil Birds game tonight?” I ask Sophie. She nods.

“I’ll be there too,” Nigel says. “I want to get some background video we can use for packages.”

Nancy gives a huff. “I’ll be going back to New York. Nigel will send me dailies, and I’ll be communicating with Sophie to make sure you’re on track. The premiere is in two weeks. Your Thursdays will be dress rehearsal and then the live show. You’ll be required to travel to New York for media. It’s been cleared with your coaches.”

“The show goes seven weeks maximum, right?” I glance at Sophie.

“Yeah,” she confirms.

That’ll take us to the start of playoffs for the Dickinson Cup. I want my name to be among the first engraved on it. I can’t let competing for a Platinum Paw trophy keep me from winning the trophy that’s truly important. Surely we can prove Sophie deserves a permanent spot, even if we don’t make it all the way to the finals. I’m not risking my team’s success and the hard work we’ve done all season so I can wear some rhinestones and shimmy for two months.

I don’t know if anyone else knows the PHL’s schedule well enough to realize the conflict. My parents may not have been affectionate, but they’re certainly smart, and one of the things they taught me was to pick my battles. No reason to cause waves now when there’s a strong chance we won’t even make the finals.

“Okay, see you guys at the game,” I say to Nigel. “I’m sure our team social media manager, Daphne, has a seat saved for you both. We’ll get the footage you need, Nige. Nancy, I hope you have a safe trip back to New York.”

I purposely don’t say that it was nice to meet her or hope to see her again soon. Another thing my parents taught me was not to lie.

Sophie is doing some steps in front of the mirror, muttering corrections to herself. Her eyes, normally a clear blue, are a stormier color. Is she sad? Mad?

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing just behind her and looking at our reflections in the mirror.

“Fine,” she says. “After all that’s happened…” She swallows hard and squares her shoulders, still not meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I’m fine.”

I think she’s reassuring herself as much as she’s reassuring me. How can she be fine after everything that happened over the last three days? Discovering her best friend’s mother had been drugging her with a witch’s brew of a tea for over a decade? Falling out with almost everyone close to her?

Randi’s mother, Doreen, is a nasty, evil woman who used her knowledge as a witch to create a blend of tea leaves and other herbs to make the person drinking the tea susceptible to suggestion. She’d send “I don’t care about you” packages to Randi while she was at boarding school in order to keep Randi’s unknown powers as a witch suppressed because she was jealous of her. She supplied Sophie too and filled her mind with lies and jealousy to drive a wedge between Sophie and Randi. I can imagine it affected other relationships in her life throughout the years, too. I know it strained the one with her mother, Nora.

If all that had happened to me, I’d have holed myself up in a cave somewhere until I’d figured it all out. Not Sophie. Apparently she doesn’t run. She’s strong.

But still…I don’t want to leave her when she obviously has stuff on her mind.

I have to though. I need to get back to The Nest to watch video and get notes for tonight’s game. I’m attracted to Sophie, and I want to comfort her, but I’m not here for that. I’m only here to dance with her. Correction—I’m only here to play hockey.

“Okay,” I say, zipping up my Devil Birds fleece that will ward off the freezing wind blowing off the Atlantic on my walk back from Devil’s Den to The Nest. “See you later.”

She nods. “Aye.”

Her back is still to me and her eyes are avoiding mine in the mirror. Fine. Whatever. I glance back as I exit…and meet Sophie’s eyes in the mirror. Just for a moment, before she looks away, but the connection is there. Whether we acknowledge it or not.

2

SOPHIE

This ismy first time attending an ice hockey match. Game? I’m not exactly sure what they call it. I’m uncertain how Dec ended up here. I know he’d skate on the loch with Miranda when we were kids but I didn’t think that would become this. Maybe he played while he was attending university in New York. My family is into horses. We’re Irish and Scottish, we’d play rugby, maybe shinty if we were doing stuff with sticks. Not ice hockey.

Our parents are here, too. Daphne, the team’s social media manager who’s married to the coach’s cousin, has given us all Devil Birds shirts to wear. Ma and Dad have sweatshirts with Mackenzie on the nameplate and Dec’s number 80 on it. I have a generic team sweatshirt since I’ll be attending a bunch of games as Trevor’s dance partner as well as Dec’s sister. Everyone goes by last names, so Declan is Mac and Trevor is Carter. It’s confusing as hell. Going by Mac at home would never work with so many Mackenzies around.

I wish Declan was playing tonight. I know I’ll have other chances to see him play once his hand is healed, but I don’t know when our parents will get to see him play live. Now that I’m emerging from the tea fog, I can see just how screwed up my actions were over the last few weeks. Dec smashes his hand into a wall, and I blame Miranda because she broke up with him? Guilt twists in my gut. I can’t understand how I could’ve ever thought that. Dec’s responsible for his own shitty actions, not her. I shouldn’t blame myself for my actions while drugged, but I can’t help it. I know I was a bitch to Miranda because she broke up with Declan, a choice she’d made while under the influence of the tea too. And even if she had really wanted to break up with him, he should respect that choice, not choose violence. I should have accepted that choice. It’s a mess, and I can’t help but feel some guilt, even though I know the tea and Miranda’s mum caused all the trouble. I rub at my temples, where a headache has started pounding.

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