Page 63 of Rush the Edge

I laugh. “I know!”

“It’s so good to work for a team that is actually winning. Last year, we were shit.”

“Darn, I thought I was bringing the team good luck,” I joke.

She wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh, you are.”

Cindy pauses with her hands still on my shoulders. She pulls me in, and her nose scrunches. “Why do you smell like a candy cane?”

“Oh,” I half-laugh. “It’s my joint cream. It’s peppermint.”

She sniffs again. “Smells good. It blocks out the scent of sweaty hockey players. Anyway”—she pulls me toward the bench when the guys begin to make their way to the locker room—“I need you to go on the ice and announce the players of the night.”

“Huh?” My eyes grow large. “Right now?”

“Yeah, it’s something new. I think the new mascot attire put a bug in our marketing team’s ear, and now they’re on a roll—not to mention the ideas that Reese has come up with. You two may just be running this place by the time it’s all said and done.”

God, I hope not.

Better yet…Kane, you’re fired.

Cindy shoves a microphone into my hand and spins me toward the arena.

“We’ve already got the three players off to the side, ready for you to announce them. Do you know their names?”

On the inside, I’m a blubbering mess. Nerves settle in my lower stomach, and my legs suddenly feel as heavy as they did last night.

I move forward with Cindy shoving me from behind. I pull my chin upright when I see that Kane is staring directly at me.

Sweat drips down the side of his face, falling off the sharp edge of his jaw and to the floor beneath his skates.

“I know their names,” I say at the last second. “I’ve got this.”

Leave it to Kane to give me the confidence to pull myself together. It’s not because I need him to calm me or anything. It’s quite honestly the opposite. Watching him size me up is the push I need to prove something to him.

Maybe to prove that I’m fine, because after our tiff this morning, I know he’s not going to give up that easily.

I skate onto the ice with the microphone held tightly in between my fingers. The arena is basked in various blue lights with a spotlight centered directly on me.

“Let’s give it up for our three star players of the night!” I hold my trident up in the air, and the sea of blue-and-black jerseys stand and cheer.

My gaze slips off to the right. I don’t have to look at Kane to know he’s staring at me.

“First up is the guy with the winning goal: Crew Hart!”

Crew takes the ice and holds his hand up to wave at the crowd. He nods at me on his way past, and then he rushes off the ice for the next guy.

Malaki zips onto the ice after I announce his name and does a few circles around me with a grin on his face. His smile is contagious, so I find myself smiling along with him. He winks at me before heading off toward Kane, who just so happens to be scowling.

Figures.

“Last but not least, we have our very own Kane Barlow, who had the assist for our winning goal!”

The crowd grows even louder when he takes the ice.

Kane skates aggressively without even so much as a closed-lip grin. He’s stoic, serious, and annoyingly hot with his scowl. He stops in front of me, taking me by surprise, and plucks my trident right out of my hand.

He takes off toward the glass and throws it over the edge to a fan.

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