Page 41 of Man Advantage

Jenni, who was apparently married to Martin, the team captain, came up to me right then, her infant on her hip. With her free hand, she took me by the elbow. “Come on. All the kids like to watch warmups from the Zamboni gate.”

“Oh. Uh.” I looked around, ready to call Zach and Zane, but they were already joining the small herd of children heading down the hall. Of course they knew the routine. Everyone here knew the routine except me and the babies. Hell, one of them even looked at me like,Duh, it’s warmups—are you new or something?

At the Zamboni gate, the wives and girlfriends crowded against the glass, holding up the children who were too little to see over. Someone had wheeled over a small block, and the bigger kids—including the twins—stood on that, hands and faces pressed to the glass.

There was no one on the ice yet, but that didn’t last long. Not two minutes after the boys got situated, a train horn sounded. Players started pouring out beside one of the benches; the away team, judging by the booing from fans and the kids.

Then the announcer’s voice boomed: “Now taking the ice for warmups, please welcome your Pittsburgh Rebels!”

The crowd, thin as it was this early in the evening, went nuts, and the kids all started shouting and banging on the glass. Players in black and gold came out from beside their bench, and I could tell whenever a kid’s dad emerged because of the delighted squeals and “Mommy, there’s Daddy!”

After nine or ten players, it was Zach and Zane jumping up and down and shouting to both Bryan and me, “There’s Dad! There’s Dad!”

Oh yeah. There he was. Fuuuck.

Was there ever going to come a time when the sight of grownup Trev didn’t turn me into a quivering mess? Because if there was, it wasn’t going happening tonight.

Seeing him in a game jersey was nothing new, but this was a game jersey atthislevel. At the very top of the sport he loved. With a logo on his chest from a team he’d watched as a kid, back when he hadn’t known if he’d ever get into the League or what team he’d eventually land on.

Trev had made it. He was the hockey player he’d always dreamed of being.

Pride swelled in my chest, but I was also—I mean, who the fuck was I kidding? Trev was hot and I reacted accordingly. At some point, I’d have to get used to being around him at peak sexiness, especially since I lived with him.

But for now, hell—why not drool?

Notopenly, though, if only because there were cameras around. And Bryan. I didn’t need jealousy drama with Trev’s ex-husband.

Throughout warmups, the kids all waved at their dads, and the various players came over to say hi. That was super cute. Some of the guys’ faces were full of intense concentration while they skated and shot pucks, but the second they saw their babies, they turned into complete goo. They came right up to the gate and waved at their kids or did fist bumps through the glass. Some even pushed pucks through the hole that the photographers used, which had the littlest ones squealing with delight.

Martin was one of those “face of hockey” players—he was on the covers of magazines, the thumbnails for videos, and even a video game cover. Always with a fierce expression, full of intense concentration and competitive fire. But when he skated over and met his infant daughter’s eyes through the glass, he went all gooey-eyed. He smiled and cooed to her even though she couldn’t hear him, and when she waved her arms at him and giggled, hemelted.

And then… Trev showed up at the gate.

And I was the one who melted. He high-fived his boys through the glass, and he smiled at them like they made his whole night. They banged on the glass and bounced with excitement as if this was the first time they’d ever seen him play.

He glanced up, and his gaze landed on me.

Was it my imagination, or did he freeze for a beat? His eyes widened and his lips parted.

What? Had he not expected me to be here? Was I supposed to?—

He flashed me a smile and a sharp nod before shifting his attention back to his boys. He held up a finger—as much as one could in a hockey glove—and I thought he mouthed“be right back.”Then he skated away, but he came back a moment later and handed a puck to the wife closest to the lens hole. When she took it, he tapped the glass in front of Zach, and she gave the puck to Zach.

Zane didn’t protest at all. They both knew that whoever didn’t get a puck at one game would get it at the next one.

Then they each fist-bumped their dad through the glass, and he skated back out to join his team. He didn’t give me another look, and I was admittedly grateful for that. I was still jittery after that double take. What did it mean? Why had he looked at me like that?

And when had it started getting so hot in here? Would anyone mind if I went out and sprawled on the ice for a minute or two? Because goddamn.

“Take a picture,” Bryan gritted out, “it’ll last longer.”

I turned to him. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re not subtle.” He gestured at the ice. At the players.

At his ex-husband, who I’d been staring at for I had no idea how long.

I gulped and shook myself. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re?—”

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