Page 42 of Not the Puck Bunny

I suppressed a sigh and sat beside her. “Thank you for coming to the game with me tonight. I thought maybe we could…I don't know, have fun.”

She cast me a sidelong look. “I was curious to see what you do here.”

Of course she was. She couldn't just enjoy a night out with me. Let loose for a while. Was she capable of having fun?

When I was a kid, she used to read to me a lot, but I didn't remember her sitting down with me to play. My father would, when he wasn't busy, but those instances were rare.

Mostly, I spent my time with Pia, or whichever nanny we had at the time. We went through two or three before my parents hired Bethany. She stayed with us until neither of us needed a nanny anymore.

I lost count of the amount of times I'd wished Bethany was my mother instead of Cynthia. Even though Bethany was paid to care, she seemed more genuine in her affection than my mother ever was.

We still kept in touch, texting and chatting from time to time. She worked for another family now, on the other side of the country. I missed her, but I swore if I had children, I'd never need someone like her. I wanted to be there for them myself.

“What did you think I do here?” I asked.

For all I knew, she assumed I'd learned to skate, and now spent my days whizzing around on the ice. Or maybe driving the Zamboni.

I won't lie, I'd considered asking to learn how to drive the big machine. It looked like fun. I saw no reason not to try, but for now I'd leave it to the experts. That was currently a man named Hank. Not much older than me, he was so grumpy, he made Cam look like a ray of sunshine. For some reason, all of the guys seemed to adore him.

I'd yet to hold an actual conversation with the man. Whenever I saw him, I said hello, but he usually responded with a grunt and a nod. I made a mental note to try harder.

Cynthia sniffed. “I have no idea. Apart from having inappropriate relationships with men who play games for a living.”

It was impossible not to bristle at that. “I'm not having an inappropriate relationship with anyone. And playing hockey for a living is much more difficult than you think. It's a lot of hard work. Much more difficult than attending charity galas and tea parties.”

I should know better than to bite, but I couldn't contain myself. If she'd come here to insult me, then she shouldn't have come.

“Are you suggesting raising money for charity isn't important?” she asked coolly.

“Of course it is,” I said. “Which is why the teamdoes a lot of charity work and makes hefty donations. Giving back is one of the most important things we can do.” This might be the only time we were on the same page about anything.

She sniffed. “Yes it is.” Grudgingly, she added, “I suppose if them hitting a piece of rubber around ice with a stick leads to them doing good work, then it might besomewhatworth it.”

I didn't miss her emphasis on the word 'somewhat.' Was it too late to have security remove her from the box and banned from the arena? It would create more trouble than it was worth, or I might give it serious consideration.

The only conflict I wanted to see tonight was the Sea Dragons taking on the opposition team, the Tangleville Tornadoes.

The last time the two teams played each other, the Tornadoes won. There was no reason to think they couldn't be beaten tonight. That was what Coach Lambton told me anyway. Since he knew what he was talking about, I took his word for it. Someday, I'd be able to make predictions based on my own knowledge, not that of someone else. For now, I'd rely on his expertise.

“Look, here comes the team.” I pointed throughthe window, as if she couldn't see the Sea Dragons step out onto the ice to warm up.

My gaze quickly found Cam, number twelve. He was having a conversation with Blake Eastwood, number three. Whatever he was saying, Blake seemed to find it hilarious. He tipped his head back and laughed before skating away in his goalie padding that looked awkward to me. He made wearing it look effortless.

Cam shook his head and skated after him.

His movement on the ice was so smooth, like he was born for it. My eyes followed him everywhere he went. I was drawn to him like a magnet. A moth to flame, might be a better analogy. If I wasn't careful, I was going to get burnt.

“He's the one who's compromised your reputation,” Cynthia stated. She must have noticed my gaze glued to him. Or maybe she'd looked him up. She never could resist the chance to stick her nose in my business.

She'd say she cared, that was why she did it, but I was thirty years old. I didn't need my mother fussing over me like that anymore. Caring, yes, but not interfering. If that was her intention here, she could think again. The situation between me and Cam was complicated enough.

Friends, but seeing him down there, my clit throbbed. Being in the same arena as him made my pulse ratchet up. Even with rows and rows of seats, and plexiglass between us.

“I think it's the other way round,” I said without glancing at her.

I'd seen the shift in public sentiment, but it didn't do much to ease my discomfort. The winds changed and changed back too often. Tomorrow, they could hate me for being here to watch him…I mean, watch my team. Where else would I be when they were playing?

No doubt, I'd get hate if I was absent. When it came down to it, all I could do was keep on keeping on and try not to screw up too publicly.

---