Page 6 of North

Scoring feels good.

Seeing her up there in the stands feels better.

CHAPTER 3

North

The post-game rushat Mario’s is already in full swing when I walk in. The bar is packed, sizzling with energy as Titans fans relive the highlights of our win over the Phantoms. The neon signs above the bar cast colorful reflections on the polished wood, and the scent of burgers and wings wafts through the air. This place is as familiar as the rink—both a sanctuary and a spectacle all at the same time. Of course, I have no clue what the atmosphere is like after games we lose since we only come here to celebrate our victories with the fans.

I glance toward the roped-off VIP section in the back, something the owners had set up for the team when it became the go-to hangout after many games. Wanting to encourage our attendance for the fans but provide us with a quiet spot to relax, we can have some privacy after making rounds for photos and autographs.

Most of the significant others and family members are here as the players start to trickle in. And there she is.

Farren.

She’s leaning against a small table, laughing at something Brittany, Willa’s sister, says. She looks sexy as hell in ripped jeans, knee-high boots and a small Titans jersey that I’m betting has her own last name but her brother’s number. She’s simply fucking stunning, an opinion I’ve had from the moment I met her on her first visit to see her brother play for his new team. That was three months ago, and I don’t know if absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it sure makes me even more attracted to her.

I tear my gaze away and head to the bar, ordering a beer from one of the bartenders slinging drinks as fast as they can for the post-game rush. I barely take a sip of my draft before a tap on my shoulder pulls me around.

“North! Can I grab a picture with you?”

The fan, a guy probably in his twenties, looks hopeful as he clutches his phone. Before I can even respond, his buddy is beside him, holding a Titans hat and a Sharpie.

“Make it out to Mike?”

I smile politely, keeping my tone light. “Sure thing.”

I sign the hat, pose for the photo, and am about to head toward the VIP section when two more fans approach. Then two more.

It’s like trying to skate uphill.

Every few moments, I glance toward Farren. She’s still chatting with Brittany and Willa, a casual confidencein her posture that’s hard to look away from.

A little girl tugs on my shirt sleeve, and I glance down to see dimples and missing front teeth. Her dad stands behind her, hand on her tiny shoulder clad in a Titans jersey that I see bears my number.

Christ, that’s humbling when little girls are your fans, and I forget all about Farren for a few glorious moments as I squat down to chat with the tiny cutie. I sign her jersey, pose for photos, promise her that she can be a hockey player when she grows up. When they finally amble off, I look back to the VIP area, ready to make my approach, except now Farren’s gone.

A faint surge of disappointment hits me, and I scan the area. Where’d she go? Did she leave before I could talk to her?

I’m pulled by another touch to my arm and I turn to find a woman standing close, her smile as suggestive as her outfit—a Titans jersey worn as a dress, cinched at the waist with a belt, and thigh-high boots that make her legs look impossibly long. While it’s sexy as hell, it’s inappropriate given the snowy weather outside. But I suppose beauty is pain. Her red lipstick is immaculate, and her platinum-blond hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that arcs upward, then falls to her mid-back in a froth of curls.

She slides a finger down my forearm. “You were amazing tonight.”

“Thanks,” I say with a genuine smile but keep my response neutral, even as she bats her lashes.

“Can I get a selfie?” She waves her phone already in hand. She steps closer, angling herself beside me. “Do you mind?”

“No problem,” I say, though my attention is elsewhere.

She tilts her head toward me, pouting her lips playfully as the camera clicks. “Is it wrong of me to notice that you’re the hottest player on the team?” she says, her voice dropping into something I think is supposed to be sultry.

I chuckle politely, trying to extricate myself. “That’s definitely a first but I’m glad you’re a fan of the game.”

Her hand tightens on my arm as I step back. “Maybe I could buy you a drink sometime?”

Before I can respond, I catch a flash of dark hair out of the corner of my eye. More than recognizing who it is, my entire being senses a ripple in the air around me.

Farren.

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