Page 14 of Bagging the Blueliner
“Not until you wear appropriate footwear in the locker room.”
“Footwear?” Hannah’s brow wrinkled in confusion. Kicking her feet, one of the offending items fell to the floor. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”
My blood pressure shot straight through the roof. “Are you insane? You walked into a locker room—ahockeylocker room—wearing fucking flip-flops? Do you not care about losing a toe? In case you’ve forgotten, we walk around here with the equivalent of knives on our feet.”
Hannah’s brilliant blue eyes bored into mine. I was so lost in them that I didn’t notice when they hardened, but I heard the anger in her voice. “Put. Me. Down. Now.”
Turning her own words from our last interaction around on her, I challenged, “Make me.”
Her soft intake of breath brought me back to reality, and I was suddenly very aware of how incredible it felt to have Hannah in my arms.
This couldn’t happen. We couldn’t happen. Ever.
Get that through your thick skull.
“Yo, Cal!” Benji’s cheerful voice was loud enough to be heard over my racing heart.
What was he so happy about? The fact that I was making a total ass of myself? I wouldn’t put it past him.
Breaking eye contact with Hannah, I looked over at him. “What?”
“Um, I don’t know how to tell you this, but Hannah always wears flip-flops at the rink . . . It’s kinda her thing.”
Stunned, I could only stare at him as I released my grip on Hannah, and she tortuously slid down my body until her feet touched the ground. The next thing I knew, she was shoving at me. Hard.
Normally, she wouldn’t be able to move me even if she got a running start—our size difference was too great—but I was still reeling over the fact that there was something about this woman I’d overlooked. Stumbling back, I caught myself before falling into the cart set in the middle of the locker room, designated for our dirty practice jerseys.
Chest rising and falling rapidly, Hannah looked like a bull about to charge. “Not that it’s any of your business, Cal, but I am acutely aware of where everyone’s skates are at all times. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about my shoes and more time focusing on your game. Correct me if I’m wrong. Your contract is up at the end of the year, is it not?”
“Oh, damn,” an unidentified voice called out.
Not giving me a chance to respond, she addressed the room once more. “Today’s flight departs at three this afternoon. Make sure you’re at the hangar no later than two o’clock.”
Without another word, she slipped on the shoe that fell to the floor when I’d picked her up and left the room.
Silence descended upon the locker room, and I felt all eyes on me.
Fuck.
Deliberately avoiding eye contact with my teammates, I stalked back to my stall, taking a seat with a heavy sigh. The normal bustle of the room resumed, but I kept my gaze firmly on the ground, my muscles vibrating from how tightly I was wound.
Not reading my body language, Benji gleefully remarked, “You know, people pay big bucks to come watch us on the ice, but we could make good money selling tickets to the Cal and Hannah Hate Show. Gets me every time.”
“Can it, Benji,” I snapped.
Chuckling, he didn’t drop it. “How have you never noticed she always wears flip-flops? Make sure not to put ‘detail-oriented’ on any resumes going forward.”
Jaxon made a noise like he was trying to stifle his laughter, so I turned on him. “You know, this is allyourfault.”
Amused, Jaxon folded his arms and leaned back. “Okay, tell me what I did.”
“You had to go and marry Natalie, and now I don’t have a moment of peace.”
That fucker smirked at me. “I’m not sorry.”
“Of course, you’re not,” I grumbled.
Why would he be? He got the girl of his dreams, and the impossible suddenly became possible. Even if Natalie hadn’t been married with kids when he met her, she fell under Coach’s protection, often referred to as the fourth Moreau daughter. She was untouchable to Comets players, but did that stop Jaxon? No.
