Page 79 of Dirty Puck

Bodies slammed against glass. The crowd roared like thunder. Reece was a wall in the net, sharp and focused and a little bit terrifying in full gear. Every time he made a save, the wives went wild—and my heart did, too.

I hadn’t expected it to be sothrilling. The way Knights fans booed our team, yet we still heard plenty of cheers from a few small clusters around the arena. I wanted us to win, not just for the team, but to show up all the jeerers.

By the third period, my voice was hoarse from screaming, my palms sore from clapping. The score was tied, tensions high, and then—like something out of a movie—Bonner made a breakaway and slammed the puck home.

3–2. Copperheads.

Most of the arena exploded in anger and disappointment. Our section jumped to their feet. Jaycee and I hugged, laughing like kids, and I looked down at the ice just in time to see Reece glance up toward our seats.

He couldn’t have possibly seen me from there, not really.

But I still felt it.

After the game, back at the hotel, we sat on the balcony of the suite, barefoot and buzzed from room service champagne. The Bellagio fountain put on one final show for us, lights shimmering in perfect time with the music, throwing water into the night like it was celebrating too.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and looked over at him. “I felt bad leaving Benny, but I’m glad I came.” My words might’ve slurred just slightly. Ah, the beauty of champagne.

Reece looked over at me. “I know.” Then he winked. The jerk.

“Yeah. I forgot what it felt like to just…be. No appointments. No bills. No carefully balanced schedule. Just—me. For once.”

He didn’t say anything right away. Only reached over to take my hand.

“You deserve more of this,” he finally said, those eyes of his looking like they had a lot to say on the subject. “Not just once in your life. Not just when someone else arranges it. You deserve it because you work your ass off every day, and you don’t ask for anything back.”

I blinked fast. “Don’t start saying nice things or I’ll cry and ruin my mascara.”

He grinned and kissed my knuckles. “We can’t have that. You look too damn good in that mascara.”

I leaned against his shoulder, warm from the wine, warmer from him.

Then Reece threw in a low, rumbling, “Drunk looks good on you.”

I should’ve kept my guard up. Should’ve reminded myself that this was all temporary. A favor wrapped in fun. But the truth was settling deep in my chest, dangerous and uninvited.

The real gamble wasn’t in Vegas.

It was Reece.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

REECE

Halloween. Game day. Always a circus.

Kids in costumes ran through the halls of the arena, high on sugar and excitement. Vendors handed out candy, players tossed out high-fives, and somewhere, a poor intern probably cried under the weight of some last-minute logistic nightmare.

I loved it.

But this year, Ireallyloved it.

Because Bree brought Benny.

He wore a tiny plush lion costume—headphones snug over his ears to keep the sound out, his little hands clutching his orange plastic jack-o’-lantern candy bucket like an old woman clutching her handbag to her chest when walking through a room full of teens. His eyes were wide, taking everything in but not overwhelmed, not today. Bree had timed it perfectly—got him in and through the lobby early, when it was still calm.

When they’d reached the locker room, Benny looked right at me and stretched those little arms up without hesitation.

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