Page 73 of Stick With Me
I mean, they are pretty evenly matched. I don’t think we need to worry about them.
If there’s anyone that can give Dominic Fox a run for his money, it’s Natalie Banks.
Ryan:
Rather not risk it.
Me:
Lol well rest assured, it’s not Dom… it’s even better!
Ilya. She said, and I quote, “Natalie Volkov has a nice ring to it.”
Ryan:
Oh God, that might be worse. I’ll warn Volk not to be a dick to her, but no promises…
Me:
I’m not worried. She can hold her own. Have a good game! See ya later alligator.
Ryan:
How could I not? You’re here.
“Hannah! Pay attention to me and let your man work,” Natalie says, spinning in a circle to show off her outfit. “How do I look? Hockey-y?”
God, I love her.“Very hockey-y. C’mon, let’s go to our seats.”
As the players emerge on the ice for warm-ups, the arena brightens and the air buzzes with the crowd’s excitement.
We’re sitting glass-front, just to the left of the Saints’ home bench—my favorite spot. I get a perfect view of the action and the players rushing on and off the bench for their shifts. Plus, I can sneak glances at Ryan, even when he’s not out there playing.
As Natalie pops peanut M&Ms into her mouth, my eyes automatically search the ice until I spot Ryan taking a lap around the boards. His brows are furrowed, and his jaw is tight with concentration, but his features soften when he nears where we’re sitting. He stops abruptly, sending a spray of ice shavings against the glass.
He gives Natalie a quick wave before his grin turns to me, doing funny things to my stomach. Those damn flutters refuse to go away after being released. I meet his eyes, under the bright lights they look lighter, more hazel than brown. He taps the glass with his stick, his eyes locking onto mine as he gives a playful wink. He flips a puck over the plexiglass barrier, and I catch it out of the air with a laugh. Cheekily, I blow him a kiss and hold the puck to my chest like it’s a prized possession, earning a chuckle from him.
“Where’s mine?” Natalie teases beside me, as Dominic skates up, stealing my attention with his own knock on the glass. He waves and flashes a wide smile, but before I can wave back, Ryan gives him a shove with his shoulder.
They skate away, playfully pushing each other back and forth. I can see their lips moving and can only assume they’re bickering.
“Hockey players are odd, aren’t they?” Nat muses, now munching on a soft pretzel. “Want some?” she asks, the dough still half-chewed in her mouth.
I shake my head, turning the puck over in my hands. There’s a small drawing etched on it: a sun peeking over the horizon—sunshine, like his nickname for me. A smile tugs at my lips as I trace the lines.
“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Nat teases, peeking over my shoulder.
“Eyes on the ice,” I brush her off, tucking the puck into my bag and refocusing on the guys skating. On one player in particular.
The way his body moves, somehow both powerful and graceful, as he skates is mesmerizing. I imagine his muscles tensing, straining as his legs propel him toward the net, where he slaps the puck into the back of it. Ryan pops his mouthguard out, chewing on it casually. Who knew chewing on plastic could be so hot?
As soon as the guys head back down the tunnel after warm-ups, Natalie turns toward me in her seat. “Tell me everything.”
I fill her in on anything I haven’t already shared over our phone calls, mostly the developments since the hookup.
“So you humped like rabbits, he confessed his undying love for you, and now you’re freaking out?”
“Can you keep it down?” I hiss.
