Page 52 of Score on You

“Ready,” I mumble.

“Yes, you’re almost there. Soon, sweetness.”

A deafening buzzer shatters our moment. The puck drops on the ice and a flurry of movement immediately follows. I’m riveted by the intensity. The players move fast enough to become a blur before my eyes. My gaze sweeps from left to right in a pitiful attempt not to miss a moment.

Ridge must notice my struggle. “I usually try to focus on who has the puck. That’s where it counts.”

“Good tip.” And it works. My brain doesn’t hurt as I soak in each frenzied play.

The crowd goes wild when the Trojans score. We leap to our feet and join in the celebration. My usual meek demeanor melts away while I cheer until my throat burns. Ridge glances over at me. A wide smile brightens his expression. I return the gesture, squeezing our clasped palms. We collapse into our seats without losing eye contact.

Once the noise level lowers to normal, he bends toward me. “Are you having fun?”

“Um, duh. I’m on a date with my boyfriend.” I giggle at the sassy response. Just then, the action on the ice turns brutal. Two players collide hard enough to crack their helmets together. The resulting echo makes me wince. If that isn’t painful enough, the two begin punching each other. “It’s more violent than I thought, though.”

“You can hear the Grizzlies squeal for mercy from up here.” He leans forward as if he’s about to launch over the railing to enter the fight.

I think back to his shift in mood when talking about playing for the team earlier. “Do you miss it?”

He’s already nodding. “Every damn day. The adrenaline rush is addictive.”

My confidence wavers, but I scrounge up the courage to whisper, “What happened?”

Ridge blows out a heavy exhale. “It was like any other game. I just took a wicked hit and immediately felt the damage. There was a blast of fire in my shoulder. Completely blew the whole joint. I couldn’t move it. That type of injury ends a career. The scar left behind is gnarly.”

I cringe. “That sounds awful.”

“Don’t pity me too much, sweetness. I had almost seven complete seasons with the Trojans. That’s more than most get. I’m set to live in luxury thanks to my generous contracts.”

Money is a sticky subject to broach. It’s also none of my business. Instead, I decide to get an answer for a question I’ve been meaning to ask. “How old are you?”

“Wise beyond my years,” he jokes.

“Seems that way,” I quip.

“Just turned thirty-one last month.”

My heart lurches. “What? No way. I didn’t get you a gift.”

“You did.”

“I think I’d remember.”

“You’re the only thing I wanted.” His stare is heavy with meaning. “And here you sit.”

Before I can respond, there’s a break in the game. A cheesy tune blasts from the speakers and an eruption of excitement screeches from the audience. There’s a live feed of the packed arena, panning quickly across the seats. Then a cutout heart flashes on the oversized screen. Inside the shape is a title of what I assume is a scheduled segment for entertainment purposes.

“The Kiss Catcher?”

“It’s exactly as it sounds,” he explains.

On cue, the camera lands on a couple in the audience. They immediately embrace in a passionate smooch. The second pair engage in similar affection. Then, to my utter shock, Ridge and I are on display. I don’t move other than my eyes, which bulge to comical proportions.

Once again, my dependable boyfriend takes charge of the situation. He lifts our joined fingers and proceeds to pepper my knuckles with chaste pecks. Fireworks boom in my stomach as he repeats the action on my other hand. But the crowd isn’t satisfied.

“Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her,” is shouted as a unified chant.

The volume is thunderous, but I drown them out when Ridge dips toward me. He flips his hat backward in a fluid motion. His spicy pine aroma invades my senses and I suck in a deep breath. My pulse gallops into a sprint. I get dizzy as his warm exhale ghosts across the shell of my ear.

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