Page 96 of Banter & Blushes

Mia: On my way.

I launch off the bed, pausing for a moment to look at the salmon-colored dress with a flared skirt and an asymmetrical neckline hanging on my closet door, but I don’t want to risk running late again. Ethan would think I was playing games with him, and that’s the last thing I want him to think about me.

My schoolteacher slacks and blouse will have to do. I grab my wallet and keys and shoot out the door as my brain plays out various scenarios of what I’m going to say and hoping he understands in real life like the Ethan in my head does.

This isn’t at all how I envisioned our first date, but at least I get another chance to have a face-to-face with him. A giddiness races through me at the thought.

Until I turn the key and only a clicking sound comes from the engine, which is supposed to roar to life and take me to meet my potential soulmate. Not that I put a lot of stock into the whole ‘one person meant for each of us.’ Just doesn’t add up, but I do believe you can fall so deeply for someone that they become your one and only.

But none of that matters now. Clearly, Fate is trying to have her fun at my expense, and she’s won. There’s no way Ethan will believe me. I mean, come on. Engine trouble twice in one day? Seriously?

With a loud groan, I rest my head on the steering wheel. Might as well get this over with and accept whatever could have happened between Ethan and me just isn’t meant to be.

I hear you, Universe. You can step off your soapbox now.

Mia: I’m sitting in a car with a dead battery. I totally expect that you won’t believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m sorry again, Ethan. I guess this just isn’t going to work out.

Back inside my apartment, I consider calling Sophie for a good cry on her shoulder, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to hear her ‘I told you so’ about my car. I’ll fill her in tomorrow.

Instead, I turn off my phone, take a bath, and go to bed without eating dinner because that would be the sad icing on this disastrous cake of a day.

Goodbye, my hot hockey guy named Ethan. Sure was nice never getting to know you.

CHAPTER 11

ETHAN

Istill haven’t replied to Mia’s text. At least she let me know after I left the guys, but before I got to the beach. I’m half tempted to call in sick because they knew I was going to meet her, so they’ll have all kinds of questions for me today at practice.

When they find out she didn’t show, they’ll love ribbing me about it for hours…days…weeks even. I’ll become their poster boy for the worst date that never happened. A shining example of what eating your words looks like because I was the one who said I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.

Well, lesson learned. I won’t make that mistake again. From now on, anytime a woman shows interest in me, I’ll proceed with extreme caution. This one can go down in the record books as an epic fail, along with some valuable wisdom gained.

Once I reach the locker room, I head straight to my cubby and change into my practice gear. I’m early, so only a few of the rookies are here, and they aren’t interested in my love life, thank goodness. The sooner I hit the ice, the easier it will be to avoid the inevitable questions.

As I enter the rink, I knock a stack of pucks off the boards and start practicing my slap shots while I wait for the rest of the guys.

Wade slides into my periphery vision and skates toward the net as I swing back, ready to let my frustration out on another black disk. The crack of mystick splits the air, spraying ice as the puck rockets forward—only to clang off the post and slam into the boards.

A miss.

Figures. Pretty much sums up how things are going with Mia—all this effort and still wide of the mark.

After sliding his helmet on, Wade takes his position in the crease. “Hold up there a minute so I can warm up.”

While he does his stretches and those weird goalie moves that make him look like a deranged robot, I take a puck down toward the other end of the ice to practice my shoot-out skills, passing the spot where Mia wrote her phone number on the plexiglass. As I near the opposite net, I remember her standing there, watching me right before I plowed into the boards.

Elias skates in, practically snowing me as he tries to steal the puck. I pull a deke, fooling him into thinking I planned to skate behind the net but slip the puck in with a backhanded shot.

He skates around the other side and cuts me off. “Nice move.”

“Thanks.”

He studies me. “What? No bragging about your date last night?”

I shake my head and scoop the puck out of the net with my stick to set up another shot. “Nothing to talk about.”

“That bad?”

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