“I’d help you if I could,” she all but purrs. When I look her way, she makes a little show out of taking her hair out of its bun and shakes her head like she’s a shampoo model, then lets it hang loose around her face. She’s a beautiful woman, but the way she’s just angled her body at me and the expression she wears tells me she’s one of “those” fans.
For the record, I love my fans; I’ve got some amazing folks who support me, but there’s a small percentage who do things like send me their undergarments in the mail or show up at games in my jersey and try to break into the locker room so they can meet me. Both of these are true stories and not events I’d like to repeat.
“It’s totally fine,” I mumble, trying not to make eye contact like you’re supposed to do with bears. I saw a documentary on black bears once, which said if you’re in the wild and you see one, do not make eye contact because they see it as a challenge. Of course, my mind stored that very valuable piece of information away for my next outing around bears.
I skate over to the exit and come off the ice to get my phone so I can call for a ride, and she follows me. Great. I can see my future now: for at least the next thirty minutes, I’ll be hiding out in the locker room until my ride gets here.
“You must be new in town,” she says, sidestepping a small gang of kids who are horsing around as they pull on their gear. “I’m Mandy. My son plays in the junior league.”
“That’s nice, I hope he likes it.” I can be kind and professional while moving at a swift pace, but she’s keeping up.
“He could use some private lessons. Know anyone who may be able to help?”
“Mandy, I can think of about ten guys who could help you out,” a familiar voice calls out. “In fact, one of them is your husband. Isn’t he the coach of your son’s team?”
When I look toward the voice, a warmth floods my veins and my stomach dips. Said dip is followed by a tingling feeling that rolls right across my body.
Can’t lie—it’s pretty interesting to watch Mandy’s eyes narrow as she sets her sights on Riley.
“Hi, Riley,” she says with venom dripping from each word. “Nice to see you.”
“Sure it is.” Riley laughs. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other to balance out the giant brown box she’s busy balancing. “How are things going with planning for the fundraiser?”
“Good,” she says, flicking her hand toward me. “In fact, I had an idea to ask this superstar if he’d be so kind as to donate something to the event.”
Riley’s eyes meet mine and she makes a face as she rolls them. It’s like she’s reading my mind.
“Well, run it past my mom first, okay? We both know how much of a control freak she can be. She likes handling all the requests for items to be donated for any event she does, so I’m sure she’ll want to handle this one with Jake as well.”
Mandy purses her lips tightly, her gaze swinging back and forth between Riley and me until she busies herself pulling her hair back up into a pile on top of her head.
“Thanks for the tip, Riley,” she growls as she walks off, turning around one last time to smirk in my direction. “And I’ll see you around.”
We both watch her walk away, joining a small crowd of parents on the other side of the rink as they settle in to watch their kids practice. When I turn to Riley, she’s chewing her cheek.
“You think it’s funny?”
“She’s always been a nightmare. She drives everyone crazy.” Riley stands with her hand on her hip, head tilted to the side, and is one hundred percent sizing me up right now. “Have you ever seenDirty Dancing?”
“I have.”
“Well, do you remember the woman who Johnny would give dancing lessons to, the one whose husband never paid her any attention? She was sleeping with Johnny and I think some of theother employees at the summer lodge thing they were staying at.”
“I think we saw her leave the cabin of the guy who got her sister pregnant, right?”
Riley’s eyes widen and she steps back, nodding with approval. “Okay, you know your movie trivia.”
“It’sDirty Dancing,” I say with a wink. “It’s like a prerequisite to watch when you’re a teenager.”
She giggles and it makes me smile wider. “Well, that’s her. She does mean well, but she’s perpetually in heat.”
A hot flush makes its way across my cheeks. “Okay, then. Noted.”
She looks around the arena, scanning the groups of people who are milling about before her eyes land on me again. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“Well,” I tease, standing up. I hold my hands out to my side. “If you’re here hoping to catch a ride, I’m closed today. You’ll have to call a cab.”
“You know, you’re the one who let a stranger in a strange town get in your car.” She rolls her eyes. “And I thought we’ve moved past that.”
