Page 52 of Playing the Pucking Game
I nod, confident that she’s right. I’m going to be spending a significant amount of time on this plane and away from LA in the coming months. I’m buzzing for it. Not only am I getting to do a job I’ve dreamed of for years, but I’m getting to travel and see new places. It might be early days, but I think I might have made a friend, too.
“It’s so good to have a girl to travel with,” Brooke muses as a few more players walk down the aisle to find their seats. “Sometimes Hailee joins us, but more often than not, it’s me and a plane full of men.”
“You and a whole team of ice hockey players. I guess every job has its hardships,” I tease.
“You know what happens on a hockey team plane, right?”
I can’t contain my smile.
“Oh yeah, I’m aware.”
“Best part of every trip,” Brooke says as Monroe steps onto the plane and begins walking toward me.
“Donnelly,” he says with his signature smile.
“Monroe,” I greet. “How’s that shoulder?”
“Almost as good as new,” Monroe says happily. “You’ve got the magic touch.”
As he says this, there’s a grunt of disgust from behind him.
I grit my teeth to stop from saying anything. Mitchell wants attention, but I’m not going to give him any. Neither is Monroe, it seems, when he keeps his eyes on me.
“You’ve got a good seat here,” he continues, a flirtatiousness I’m more than used to in his tone.
“Is that right?”
“Yep,” he says with a wink before taking another step forward and lifting his carry-on above his head into the bin behind me. “If you need anything, I’ll be right behind you.”
Of course. Rookies at the front, vets at the back.
Without meaning to, my mind wanders to Linc. Where does he sit? He’s been a Viper since his rookie year; he might not be classed as a vet yet, but he has to be pretty far back. And that’s a good thing; the farther he is from me, the better.
I don’t need the next four hours to come complete with his glare.
You’re doing the right thing, I remind myself.Linc will thank you for it in the long run.
As if I summoned him, he appears at the front of the plane, his face set in the same scowl as earlier.
He was gone before I got up this morning, but I soon found him in the trainers’ room where he was told not to get dressed for morning skate. The second the words rolled off Coach’s lips, his glare turned on me.
He was embarrassed last night. Pissed off that I’d accidently stood him up. It would have been easy to let it go and allow him to play. But as a professional, whose main focus is his health, I have to do what’s right for him, his body, and his future playing career.
He scans the plane as if he’s looking for someone, and I hate myself for sinking down a little in the hope he won’t see me. It’s pointless—not even a second later, he finds me.
His eyes narrow and his jaw tics.
Yeah, he’s really pissed.
He also looks hot as fuck.
Forcing myself to ignore that second observation, I smile at him before dropping my gaze to the back of the seat in front of me.
Monroe lingers as Linc moves closer. I don’t need to be looking to know he’s closing the space between us. I feel it. The air gets thicker, making it harder to breathe.
“Good to see he’s taken the news well,” Monroe teases.
“Shut the fuck up, Marilyn,” Linc barks. “Sit the fuck down and stop flirting with our trainer.”
