Page 55 of Offside and Off-Limits
I start by shooting the puck to ricochet off Lucian's stick, who redirects it to Carson, who banks it off the boards, coming within inches of Weston's helmet, sending it careening toward Clément, who adds a dramatic flourish before Jamie catches it mid-air and flips it into the up before passing it to Asher. The tricks continueuntil all the guys on the team have added their particular flair, and the mood shifts from post-practice exhaustion to an atmosphere of fun.
“That’s so great, guys!” Clara exclaims as she watches us. “I’ve got what I need with this one. Do I have any volunteers for some small group or singular trick shots?”
Several of the guys volunteer, excited to show off their skills, including Asher and Clément. I put my hand up, too, receiving knowing smirks from the team.
“Shocker,” Weston says under his breath, and Lucian snorts.
But I don’t care. So what if the guys know I’ve got a thing for Clara. That’s our business, no one else’s. And it’s not like anything has happened between us.
Even though I want it to, more and more each day.
Most of the team hits the showers, leaving me, Asher, and Clément with Clara.
“I have the most amazing trick for you,mademoiselle. I call it the French Kiss,” Clément says before he skates toward one of the nets.
Of course he does. That guy is as French as they get. I half expect to hear accordion music playing whenever he’s around, the scent of croissants in the air.
Clara lifts her phone, ready to capture his trick. Clément flips the puck in a perfect arc before it drops onto the crossbar, bouncing off of it, at which point he slaps it into the net.
“Where’s the french kiss in that?” Asher calls out, and Clément skates back to us.
“The puck delicately kissed the bar before hitting its target, like a man in love kissing his woman,” Clément explains in his typically French, poetic way.
“I guess that one takes some imagination. Am I right?” Asher says, and he fist bumps me.
“I thought it was awesome, Clément,” Clara says, shooting us her mom look, like we’re a couple of naughty kids.
Is it terrible that I find that super hot?
Probably.
“Whose turn is it next?” she asks.
“Mine,” I say as I slide the puck from Clément and position it near the boards, lining up my shot. I’m ready to do a trick I’ve been performing since high school, one that has never failed to impress.
I can only hope Clara notices.
And yes, I know how tragic that sounds to use an old high school hockey trick to try to win her over. But impressing Clara has quickly risen to the top of my list of goals in this new town.
As my stick makes contact with the puck, I send it ricocheting toward the goal, where I chase it and slot it into the target. Then, I flick the puck up in the air and balance it on my blade while skating backwards, flicking it over my shoulder into the net once more, only this time without even looking.
Satisfied with not one but two tricks, I skate back to Clara.
“Double the genius,” Asher exclaims appreciatively. “Respect, man.”
“It’s no french kiss, but it was skillful,” Clément concedes.
“Impressive,” Clara says, and her beautiful smile makes heat spread through my chest.
What can I say? The trick works. Every. Single. Time.
It's Asher’s turn next and he grabs three pucks and a helmet before he skates to center ice.
“Dude! What do you need three pucks for?” I call out.
“Watch and learn, my friend. Watch and learn,” he replies with a smug smile.
I lean back, confident he can't top my double trick. But in a matter of seconds, he’s done just that, flipping pucks off his stick, catching them mid-air like they’re pancakes and sending them flying into the helmet positioned on the ice, which spins each time a puck lands inside it.
