Page 38 of Slap Shot Scandal
“Were you at yoga?” I motion at her tight, pale pink top and matching leggings.
“Yes. I’m doing a write-up on a spa in Arizona, with afocus on wellness retreats. Lots of yoga, saunas, cupping, that sort of thing.”
“Sounds dreamy.” Not for the first time, I’m slightly jealous of my sister’s career. Travel content creator sounds much less stressful than PR strategist right now.
She shrugs. “It’s fine. No hot guys here, though. Unlike your position…”
“Stop.” I shake my head, even as heat floods through me. An image of Weston skating this morning pops into my mind. All those muscles, barely contained in his practice jersey. His icy stare as the puck flew across the empty rink, the furrow of concentration on his serious face.
“Don’t tell me you’re not flirting at all? You’re surrounded by hockey babes.”
I heave out a sigh. “Yeah, I know. But I have to keep things professional, you know?”
Piper narrows her eyes at me. “It’s more than that, Harbor. It’s written all over your face. Spill.”
“What?” I feign innocence, even as my heart hammers thinking of Weston.
“I know that look. That’s a ‘there’s definitely a hot guy’look. Spill the tea!”
“No tea, sis.”
“Liar.”
“Me?” My hand flies to my chest and I do my best to act affronted. “I would never.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, I’m proud of you, showing interest in something other than your job for once.”
“Gee, thanks, Pipes.” I roll my eyes at my annoyingly perceptive sister.
“You’re deflecting. Talk—I know there’s a guy. You’re blushing and your neck’s blotchy. Who is he? A player onthe team? What position?” Piper sits down on her yoga mat in lotus position, readying for a long chat.
“Sorry to disappoint. But there’s not much to tell. I’m down here with the owner, the GM, a few office staff…” My voice trails off, throat going dry as I lie to her.
“And…” she presses, not letting the subject go. A damn yappy dog with a bone.
“And the team captain. But the rest of the team’s rolling in now.”
“Oh. So it’s the captain. That’s fine, say no more. I’ll have the details here in a second.”
The screen shakes as Piper does a quick internet search, tapping and then smiling at her results.
“He is cute. Kind of scowly and serious. A perfect match for you. Weston Steele.” She says his name in a sultry tone, waggling her eyebrows.
“Shut up,” I say, playfully slamming a pillow at the computer screen as my stomach flip-flops at Weston’s name.
“Just admit it…” Piper grins like she’s already won this round. “You’re falling for Hockey Captain America.”
“I’m not falling for anyone. I’m rebuilding careers—his included.”
“Mm-hmm. And does everyone’s career make your neck blotchy like that?”
I slap my hand to my throat, then glare at her. “It’s the humidity.”
“Sure. Blame the weather. Not the six foot-four, 225-pound hockey star, born and raised in New York. And he’s a triplet? Wha-what?!?”
“Yeah, he is. His brothers are on the team too.”
“Are they also single? I’m available, you know.”
