Page 38 of Icing on the Cake

BARRACUDAS LOCKER ROOM

Holy shit. We made it.

“Dude,” Jackson breathes. “It’s the Holy Grail.”

I snort. “The Holy Grail is a cup, not a locker room.”

“You know what I mean.” He takes a step forward, hand outstretched like he wants to touch the doors to make sure they’re real.

Apprehension curls in my gut. “Jackson, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Why not? We came all this way.” His brown eyes go all puppy-dog. “Just a quick peek.”

“A quick peek,” I echo skeptically. “Right. Because that always ends well.”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, Elliot.”

“Excuse me? I amnota buzzkill. I’m practical. Sensible. Things that you are not.”

But Jackson isn’t listening. He’s already slipping through the swinging doors, leaving me no choice but to follow when I hear footsteps again.

Pushing my way inside, I immediately run smack into Jackson’s back.

“Jackson?” I poke him in the ribs. “What’s wrong with you?”

He doesn’t respond. Just makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Frowning, I peer around his body to see what has him so shell-shocked. That’s when I seethem.

The BSU hockey team. Staring at us with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Shit.

Sitting on a bench in the center of it all is Gerard. He’s wearing nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips. His tanned skin glistens with droplets of water from his post-game shower. His blond hair is matted to his forehead, and his bright blue eyes are wide with shock.

“Elliot?” His voice is laced with confusion and shock.

“Uh, hey, Gerard. Fancy seeing you here.”

Gerard blinks at me, then glances at Jackson, who is still making incoherent noises. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know.” I wave a hand airily. “Wanted to take a tour of the place. Check out the sights. The sounds. The smells.” I wrinkle my nose. “Definitely the smells.”

Gerard’s brow furrows. “But how did you get in here? This area is off-limits to non-team members.”

I open my mouth to respond, but Jackson beats me to it. “We snuck in. We wanted to see where the magic happens.”

I cringe inwardly.Way to play it cool, Jackson.

To my surprise, a slow smile spreads across Gerard’s face. “Well, in that case”—he stands up and adjusts his towel—“welcome to the Holy Grail ofthe Infinity Arena.”

He spreads his arms wide, encompassing the entire locker room, and I take the opportunity to study his body now that it’s free from clothing.

His biceps are the size of cannons, and his thighs are even thicker. His calves are carved from granite slabs, tapering down to thick ankles that flex and relax as he shifts his weight.

And then there are his feet—they’reenormous.

“Look at those pecs!” Jackson blurts.

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