Page 11 of Pucking Rebound

“I’m guessing Wade told you that already though, Mr. Miller?”

“You told Wade you think I’m sexy?” My heart beats out of time, causing me to cough to correct it.

“I was engaged, not blind, Jordy.”

“You’re not engaged anymore.”

“Nope, and you’re still sexy.” Her mouth curves into a decadent smile before she says, “You have a great face.”

I shift in my seat feeling hot suddenly. She’s flirting with me, and fuck, I’m definitely flirting back. “I might like yours too.”

“Yeah?”

I take a right at the next junction. “You are very beautiful.”

Her small inhale makes me smile.

“I appreciate the compliment,” she says eventually.

“I’m guessing Graham hasn’t told you for a while?”

“Graham hasn’t said a lot of things for a very long time. He did welcome the investment I made in his new shop with open arms though. The bastard. I hate him, by the way. Did I tell you that?” She doesn’t wait for my response. “Let’s not talk about him anymore. I’m pushing these feelings down. You’re right, he doesn’t deserve to live rent-free in my head.”

I want to believe her, but I have a feeling she might break down again before the night is through.

Lola finally selects a radio channel and switches the mood. “Oh, I love this song.” Turning the volume up, the cab fills with Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” and our conversation dries up as Lola sings her heart out.

She urges me to join in when she holds out an invisible microphone she makes with her clenched fist.

I can’t help myself from smiling. She’s fun and I like her.

More than I should.

Minutes later, I lower the volume, then push the blinker down and pull up outside our destination.

Turning off my truck, I give her some reassurance. “Karma is a bitch, you know. Graham will get what’s coming to him.”

“I believe that too.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “I’m so glad I didn’t buy the house we looked at last week. Or worse, marry him. God, what an idiot I've been. What was I thinking?”

“It was a lucky escape,” I tell her confidently.

“It was. Onwards and upwards.”

She’s doing a great job at masking her heartache. Something I was great at doing myself.

“We’re here.” I point my chin at the junkyard-looking entrance of the venue.

“This is your plan?” Lola asks curiously, looking out of the passenger window as she reads the sign. “Oh, I think I’ve heard of this place. Is it what I think it is?”

“It’s a rage room where you get to smash up anything and everything. It’s better than therapy.” This I can vouch for. I did it when my knee injury was taking forever to heal. I did it another time when we lost the Stanley Cup six years ago, and again the day Sienna left. It’s exhilarating.

Absentmindedly, she scratches her head through her hat. It has two huge fluffy pom-poms on top making her look cute.

I’ll openly admit, I’ve liked her since she started working for the Eagles. As Wade’s assistant, I see her in and aroundthe offices, locker room, and in the arena. The way all five foot two of her has Wade, our biggest defenseman on the team, wrapped around her little finger is laughable. The other week she appeared unannounced in the locker room, apologizing profusely as she snaked her way through a sea of partially naked Eagles’ players. She was peeking through her fingers while holding Wade’s suit bag in the other hand as she scolded him, telling him it was the last time she would bring his clothes to the arena if he forgot them again, and she’d make him do his next interview naked. It had us all in fits.

She’s a fucking tornado.

Intelligent and effortlessly funny.

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