Page 40 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“I’m healing up. I’ll be fine to start learning this week’s dance tomorrow.”

I growl in frustration. “I don’t care about the dance, I care about you!”

His hand stills, and we stand there in stunned silence. I can’t believe I said that, but I meant it. And I’m petrified. Dancing is what’s most important to me. No man, especially notthisman, can shift my focus. I won’t fall into the trap my mother did. But I am falling. And savoring every second.

“It’s okay, Sophie, I know what you meant,” Trevor says, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’re sweet. I’m tough. I’ll heal up the next couple of days and be as good as new. I can give as good as I get, don’t worry.”

Letting out a giggle I don’t really feel to try and lighten the mood, I joke, “I know that, boyo. But I don’t want you to risk injury on the ice because you’re dancing and the other teams are full of assholes.”

I step out of his hold, wrapping my arms around my stomach. “Do you harass the players on the other teams who are doing the shows?”

He shrugs. “No, but our show started first, and since you’re Mac’s sister, it’s a two-for-one chirp to piss us off.”

“Woo-hoo for efficiency,” I mutter.

Trevor laughs and then groans, clutching his ribs. “Sophie, you can’t make me laugh until tomorrow when I’ve healed up some more.”

“What are you going to do today? You can’t practice. Are you going to sleep? Want to play tourist?”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to watch video with the team and observe practice. Maybe I’ll see things to fix since I’m not on the ice and involved in the play. Mac picked up a weakness on our left side none of us caught because he was sitting out with his broken hand. I’m praying I’ll see something simple to fix to stop us from losing so many games. We’re dropping in the standings. At this point, we’ll be lucky to play for a wild card spot, when a month ago, we were the top seed in our division.” He jams his fingers in his thick copper-tinged hair and tugs it in frustration. “We’re falling apart, and it doesn’t make sense.”

But it does. First the team captain falls in love. Then Dec and Miranda have all their drama. Now we’re having a fling. Three of the team’s top players are distracted with romance. Well, in our case—sex. They lost their focus on hockey. That’s why they aren’t playing as well as they were.

I knew it would happen. That’s why I can’t let whatever feelings I may have for Trevor distract me from my goals. I’m not going to end up like my mother or my brother, letting love keep me from my dreams. No point in sharing my theory. It’s not like Declan and Miranda would break up to help the Devil Birds win games. Declan would stop playing hockey before he left the woman he loves.

“What’s your plan? Do you want to watch practice?” Trevor asks.

“Um…no. It’s enough to watch the games. I don’t need to see practice. No one wants to see how the sausage is made, Trevor.”

His chuckle is light in deference to his aching ribs, but it still warms me.

“I’m going to start choreographing our shifter dance. Do you think you’ll be okay to do lifts?”

He runs a calloused finger along my forearm, bringing out goosebumps. The way he wiggles his brows above his hazel eyes makes me smile softly as my tummy flips.

“By tomorrow, I’m going to be healed up enough to do all sorts of things, Sophie. If you were on top, we could do stuff now.”

I roll my eyes and give him a gentle pat on his stubbled cheek.

“Keep dreaming, boyo. If you’re too banged up to dance, you’re too banged up to do other things.”

His low groan as I grab my laptop and settle on the recliner in the room almost makes me feel guilty. Almost. Before I can hit play to start our song, he leans over my laptop and kisses me sweetly. I whimper when he pulls away before I have a chance to deepen our kiss. Even if we can’t do other things today, kissing is still on the menu.

“I’m gonna go hang out with the team for video and then go to the rink for practice. Have fun.” He taps me on the tip of my nose as he straightens.

It’s silly how that tiny gesture sets butterflies alight throughout my nervous system. My smile is probably dreamy as I look up at him. “Okay. I hope you see stuff that can help. Take care.”

We look at each other, and I feel like there are so many other things being said, but neither one of us will voice them. I’m refusing to even acknowledge what they are. It may as well be static on an old radio.

I hit play on my phone as the door clicks closed behind him. The first couple of times I listen to the song, I sit with my eyes shut and let the music wash over me. I lose myself in the crests and dips of the melody. Then I start counting the beats and making notes of movements that could work there. Sometimes I jump right into choreographing a piece and just move to the music. But sometimes, like now, I outline the dance before starting to move. Almost like what I imagine authors do before starting a novel.

Soon the urge to move is irresistible, and I start freestyling to the music. With Trevor’s contemporary skills and his incredible strength, he’s going to shine in this dance. We’ll be able to do lifts. I’m excited by that but also nervous. I’ve done lifts before, but never with a partner with his strength and experience. Ian is the only shifter partner I’ve had, but our lifts were limited and, frankly, fairly tame. With Trevor’s cheerleading experience, he’ll be able to do just about anything I ask of him. I’m eager to see what we can come up with, but I’m worried I won’t be good enough to match him. That’s the theme with us—I can’t match what he needs. But maybe for this week, we can give each other what’s necessary to move closer to both of our dreams coming true. We only need to get through three more weeks, and then the show will be over. I’ll either be a pro on the show, or I’ll be finding a new partner and hitting the competition circuit again. No matter what, my fling with Trevor will be over, and I’ll have to get used to being alone again. It’s not even about the sex, as incredible asthatis. I’ve enjoyed being with him in a way I’ve never experienced with another man.

I would give anything to be a different kind of woman and want to be the sort of wife and mother a man like Trevor expects in his mate. To be a woman like my mother. But I know I can’t, and I’m not going to doom either of us to a lifetime of unhappiness and regret when I can’t live up to the role I’d be put in. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Why must life be such a bitch sometimes?

* * *

I’m sitting with Daphne and Miranda in a box at the Cryptids’ arena, watching the teams warm up on the ice. Trevor sits at a table farther back in the box with Jake.

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