Page 16 of Much Ado About Hockey

Disappointment?

Jett’s smile faltered. Was that how she saw him? A dumb jock who didn’t belong in her world of lectures and research andcomplicated words? Maybe he wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t an idiot either. He felt the weight of the space between them, not just physically but mentally and emotionally. Was that the reason she kept her distance? The reason she hadn’t touched him or kissed him or looked at him like he was someone worth falling for?

He glanced away, jaw tightening, heart a little sore. Most women practically tripped over themselves to be near him, to flirt, to get invited into his bed.

With Karen, it was different.

She didn’t chase—didn’t even seem all that interested—and heaven help him, that made him want her more. And strangely, that thrilled him. A challenge. A woman who didn’t fall for the usual tricks.

He almost grinned again, nearly rubbing his hands together like he did before a big game. She was a puzzle, and he wanted to solve her.

“I thought we could look at the condos my agent sent via email,” he offered, shifting gears before his thoughts ran too deep.

Keep it casual.

Keep it together.

“Pick what you want,” she said simply, not looking up at first as she scribbled something in her notebook. Then her gaze lifted. “No pets, right?”

“No.”

“Good. I didn’t want to have to worry about something shredding my books.”

And she went back to writing down something as he sat there. He wasn’t even sure when it had happened, but he was becoming attracted to this woman before him—every time she glanced away, every time she frowned in thought, every time shemade him laugh without even trying. It felt like a pull he didn’t understand but was helpless to fight.

He just didn’t know how to reach Karen, how to cross the distance she always seemed to keep between them. So he tried the only thing he could think of—keep her talking. Try to bridge the gap with words, with plans, with anything that might give him a little more time in her presence instead of having her focus on him instead of elsewhere.

“So, then, you want a condo with a library or office?” he hedged, trying to sound casual. He watched her stop mid-scribble, eyes flicking up to meet his. She looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected him to ask, hadn’t even realized he was watching her so closely.

“What are you writing down?” he asked gently, curiosity laced with something warmer.

“Me?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, you.”

Her pen stilled, and she glanced back at the paper beneath her hands. “Um, well, I’m writing down a few things to put in order. There’s giving my notice, the condo, movers, a new driver’s license. I’m assuming you have a work Visa… or a green card?”

Her tone was so practical, so calm and level, while all he could think about was the fact that she wasreallyconsidering this. She was listing things out. Making a plan for them. A part of her—some hidden, hopeful part—was already stepping into this strange little future they’d agreed on out of the blue.

“They don’t give hockey players credit cards,” he replied with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, only to see her expression flatten. Serious. Sharp. Gosh, she had a way of making him feel like a kid who hadn’t done his homework.

Gimmie my dunce cap and move on…

“You’re kidding, right? It’s not a credit card but permission to live in Quebec, another country, because you are an American citizen.”

“Oh yeah, I knew that.”

“Sure you did.”

“My agent and the team will handle everything.”

She gave him a look that made him feel like he’d missed something important again. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He just didn’t live in details the way she did. She lived in the real world—he lived in a locker room and on the ice.

“Just like you don’t care what I do, so long as we are married – and why do you have to be married to get this job?”

He hesitated, searching her face, trying to find the right way to say it. In the end, he just told her the truth.

“Contract.”

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