Page 84 of Breaking Point
Screams ring out directly behind me.
“Oh my god! Did Grayson Crawford just wink at me?” one squeals.
“No!” another scoffs. “He winked at me!”
“You’re both idiots, it was at me.”
Cindy sticks out her tongue next to me and we burst outchuckling. But my laughter dies as Grayson turns, revealing the jersey number 33.
Three.
My lucky number, and yet the one that drives me insane on a daily basis. My heart lurches, beating a thousand beats a minute as the team skates over to the home bench.
A large stocky player with blond hair and gray eyes steps onto the bench first, winking at Cindy. As he turns and sits on the bench, his last name and number come into view on his jersey.
O’Connor. 42.
Cindy sighs. “Nothing is sexier than a man playing hockey.”
I think of a million things that make men sexy to counteract that statement. A fireman uniform, the veins on men’s hands, how they lift their shirts to wipe the sweat away, gray sweatpants… The list continues to build in my mind until Grayson steps onto the home bench, smiling.
Perhaps Cindy is on to something.
Grayson is tall as it is, but with the skates and the gear, he looks like a giant. A giant my body apparently wants to climb.
I don’t realize we’ve been staring at one another for far too long until Cindy gasps, waving her hand in front of her face. “Heissmitten.”
Grayson must read the words on her lips—there’s no way he can hear us over the roaring crowd—because his cheeks flush crimson.
“These are the best seats I’ve ever had,” one of the girls behind us says in awe.
“We could lick their sweat if we wanted to, we’re so close.”
Cindy and I face one another, mirroring each other’s looks of disgust. Leaning into her space, I lower my voice. “Are we in for these type of comments the entire night?”
“This is them just getting started.” She shakes her head. “Trust me, I’ve heard far worse.”
My body visibly shudders as I pull back. Grayson, apparently, watched the entire exchange.
Are you okay?he mouths.
Giving him a little dip of my head, I pointedly ignore thegasps behind me as they try to figure out what Grayson said tothem.
Grayson is a beast to be reckoned with.
I could understand before why Cindy found Asher so attractive in his gear, but now seeing Grayson on the ice moving with such grace and yet such fierce strength, it takes my breath away.
Despite this being my father’s favorite sport and team, I never watched games growing up. He could never get me into it, but now my eyes are glued to Grayson.
Granted, they should be glued to the puck with how fast it travels.
I’m not sure why he was so worried this week, why he has been torturing himself with extra sessions, because he’s perfect. More than perfect. His talent shines on the ice.
Cindy has been explaining the game to me as it goes, along with the adorable story of Kieran and Grayson not only being childhood best friends but being drafted together on the same team. They call them the devil pair in the league, a force to be reckoned with as the starting line of forwards.
Kieran being left wing assists Grayson with a slap shot, making me scream like the girls behind Cindy and me. I’ve never heard such a deafening roar from a crowd before.
It’s infectious.
