Page 34 of Skate the Line

Does she think wearing my jersey makes her mine? Is that her subtle way of getting my attention? I’ll admit, the other nannies were a little more obvious. They just showed me their tits the first chance they got.

Sunny, though? No. She went beyond—wearingmyjersey tomygame. That’s an ulterior motive if I’ve ever seen one.

It’s the ultimate ‘she’s mine’play. Whether you’re in college or the pros. It’s a tale as old as time. Your significant other wears your jersey to the game. It’s as simple as that.

Except, Sunny isn’t mine, and I didn’t approve of this.

I pray the media hasn’t gotten wind of it. Not only am I protective over Ellie being in the limelight, but a rumor of me dating her new nanny?

Especially one as beautiful and young as her? They’ll think I’ve corrupted her.

Fucking hell.

With frustration propelling me, I catch the eye of the security guard standing at the end of the hall leading toward the lockers. I tell him that I need him to get the woman in the second box seat—the one with my jersey on. He nods and scurries off.

Now, I wait.

Coach has likely realized I’m not in the locker room, but he’ll let it slide since I’m considered a veteran on the team, and we have our trusty agreement when it comes to Ellie.

Thissort ofhas to do with her.

My chest grows tighter the longer I wait.

The clock is ticking.

When I hear someone walking toward the end of the hall, my blood thickens.

“Thank you,” I hear her say softly. She must be talking to the security guard.

She sounds so…sweet. It pisses me off.

My steps are slow and methodical. The closer I get to her, the angrier I become—purely because I can’t help but notice how fucking perfect she looks in my jersey. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone as beautiful as she is wearing my number.

She is a conundrum, appearing so innocent and sweet but has a tongue on her that catches me off guard at times.

This is catching me off guard too.

There’s a hitch in my breath when she stands in front of me. I take a moment to appreciate the subtle softness about her before I ream her.

Warm, brown hair, braided back—probably to match Ellie’s. Bright-pink cheeks that I know are spattered with freckles that I noticed yesterday in the kitchen when I got too close to her. Glistening pink lips that are full and often open to a bright white smile that could make any man stop in his tracks.

Damn her.

“Hey! Is everything okay?” she asks, feigning concern and still somehow soundinghappy.

I’m even angrier now.

Why did I think she was different?

I got my hopes up.

Erasing the rest of the space between us, I scowl. It surprises me when she doesn’t back away. I tower over her on any good day, but with my skates on, I’m even taller. She tilts her chin and stares up into my face. For asplitsecond, I drop my eyes to her mouth.

Jesus.

It’s the jersey.

It’s fucking with my head.

---