Page 56 of Revenge Puck

“Maybe so.”

“I like this change I’ve seen in you on and off the ice this week. Too bad it took so long for you to loosen up.”

I train hard, work hard, and play my heart out on the ice. That’s why we’ve won the last two games, right?

It can’t be because of Elle. That doesn’t make any sense. The idea that she could cause a positive outcome is just as ridiculous as believing in any other silly superstition.

Except, I actually feel different since I met her. Better. Not just a better player, but a better human. My only regret is talking shit to Riley about Elle.

I shouldn’t have mentioned her underwear or anything else about what we haven’t done together. If Elle found out I made up lies to try to cripple Riley, she would probably punch me in the nuts. And I would deserve it.

It’s not fair that, other than fooling around with her this morning, the rest of my fantasies about being with her will remain fantasies.

I’m glad to see her blonde hair glowing in the dark back lot when I walk outside.

“Great game tonight,” Elle says when I approach where she’s waiting by the fence.

“Let her in,” I tell the Bobcats’ security guard who quickly obliges.

“Hi,” I say when she’s finally in front of me, no chain-link between us.

“Hi,” she replies. “It’s just a coincidence that some of my and Audrey’s Bobcat clients got roughed up by you tonight, right?”

“No clue what you’re talking about,” I lie.

“Seriously?”

“Do you really think I would go to all the trouble of compiling a list of names and looking up jersey numbers of men who have had the pleasure of your fingers in their hair?”

“I would hope not. They’re just clients, you know.”

“And I just want your hands in my hair.”

“But it’s sort of my job to touch people’s hair, even men. And you’re leaving.”

“Fuck. I know,” I grumble. “The bus is waiting…”

“So, I guess this is goodbye,” she says. “I can give you your jersey back.”

“No. Keep it,” I tell her, grabbing her upper arms as if to keep the material on her beautiful body.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“I’m sure. Thanks for everything, cupcake. It turns out shaving my beard down didn’t cause us to lose.”

“I’m glad I didn’t jinx you,” she replies with a dazzling smile that makes me forget how to breathe. “Even if a tiny little part of me was hoping it would.”

“Evil woman,” I huff, giving her shoulders a light shake, mostly to pull her closer. “I should’ve known you had ulterior motives for wanting to cut my hair and shave me.”

“I’m still a Bobcats fan underneath the Warhawks jersey. But now I’m also a Preston Lawrence fan.”

That makes me grin at her like a fool. “I’m a pretty big Elle Townsend fan myself.”

Letting my duffle slide off my shoulder and to the ground, I lean down to cover her lips gently with mine, once, twice, as if testing the waters on a goodbye kiss. Wondering how far she’ll let me go in a parking lot surrounded by people.

Thankfully, Elle doesn’t pull away. She swipes the tip of her tongue over my lips, causing them to part on a groan, setting me off.

Sliding my palms down her back, I cup her bottom and lift her up my body. Elle’s arms wrap around my neck at the same time her legs wind around my waist.

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