Page 68 of Offside and Off-Limits
“Next up we have Asher Tremblay, defenseman for the Ice Breakers, and if my eyes serve me right, today he’s Snuggle Muffin. Is that right, Asher?” Ashlyn asks.
“Loud and proud,” Asher replies with a grin before he breaks into a quick dance on the spot, showing the rest of us up and making the crowd go wild, clapping and cheering and calling out.
“We love you, Asher!” a woman calls from the crowd, and he acknowledges her with a wave. “Who’s gonna drench this Snuggle Muffin?” he calls out, thrusting his thumbs at his chest.
A woman I don't recognize steps forward, bucket in hand, but I notice Asher seems to know exactly who she is by the way he squares his shoulder and throws her a flirty smile.
So, Asher’s met a girl. He’s kept that quiet.
“Go, Mabel!” a voice calls out, and the crowd begins to chant her name. Needing no further encouragement, Mabel steps forward and hurls the bucket’s contents right over Asher.
He rallies, dripping wet, pumping his muscles in a total body builder pose.
“Another direct hit! Mabel McCluskey, you are on fire, girl!” Ashlyn says, and I put two and two together. Mabel must be Mary-Ellen McCluskey’s daughter.
Mabel doesn’t even crack a smile, instead simply throwing the crowd a look of triumph.
Huh. I wonder what her beef is with my man, Asher?
But I haven’t got the time to ask as my name is called next.
“Cupcake, huh? That works,” Ashlyn says with a laugh, and the crowd cheers. “Now we have right winger Cade Lennox stepping up to get drenched to save the town, sporting a T-shirt that declares we’re to call him Cupcake from now on. Isn’t that right, Cade?”
“Heck, yeah! I’m a total cupcake!” I say as I punch the air.
The crowd responds by chanting my new nickname. “Cupcake! Cupcake! Cupcake!”
I search for Clara, wondering—hoping—she’ll be the one todrench me. But instead, I spot her still filming, smiling as her sister, Keira, steps forward with Benny and Hannah. Hannah’s holding the bucket, with a look of grim determination while her kid brother bounces around in obvious delight.
“Kids, how can you do this to me?” I ask, totally hamming it up, my arms splayed.
“Because you’re called Cupcakeandyou play hockey!” Benny says in kid logic before he shrieks with laughter.
I throw my arms out to the side. “Hit me with your best shot, Hannah!”
But instead of Hannah, or even Benny, it’s Keira who picks up the bucket, encouraged by her niece and nephew who are chanting “Cupcake! Cupcake! Cupcake!” along with the rest of the crowd.
I glance at Clara. She’s still filming, and she’s watching me with a quiet gaze, a smile quirking her lips. Man, I would do anything to have her look at me like that all day long, including getting drenched by her sister—which is about to happen right now.
As Keira lifts the bucket, ready to douse me, I hold Clara’s gaze, my heart telling me she’s the one for me, and even though I’m expecting it, the slap of the cold water against my torso, across my face, and running down my legs is a total shock.
But the cheer of the crowd and the chanting of “Cupcake! Cupcake! Cupcake!” helps me through it, and when I grin out at the crowd, I notice Clara’s eyes are still trained on me, that smile momentarily peppered with concern, before her lips pull up into the biggest and best smile I’ve seen all day.
With my T-shirt clinging to my body, I throw out a couple of poses and the crowd goes wild.
Next, Weston gets drenched by a woman called Fiona while the crowd chants for “Mama’s Boy” to a frenzied pitch. He takes it all in his stride, waving and smiling out at the crowd.
Finally, it’s the captain’s turn, Jamie Hayes, aka Princess Sparkles, who gets a huge cheer as Ashlyn temporarily handsover her MC duties, obviously relishing throwing her bucket of water over the guy.
I need to remember to ask my friend about what’s going on there later.
And then all of us hockey players line up, our shirts clinging to every muscle to whistles and hoots from the crowd, and I throw Clara a wink as we pose and ham it up to the tune “It’s Raining Men,” the crowd loving every single moment.
As the adrenaline from being drenched wears off and the cold begins to seep into my bones, I'm grateful when Mrs. McCluskey passes me a towel as we return to the tent to get changed.
“Is Mabel your daughter, the one who drenched Asher?” I ask.
“She is,” she says, beaming at me. “You've got a thing for Clara Johnson, huh?” she asks in my ear, her eyes twinkling.
