Page 16 of Meet Your Match
I pressed myself against the wall, trying to be invisible, but I didn’t miss the chance to capture them all on video as they hopped the boards and took off their helmets, making their way back toward the locker room.
Each of them eyed me either curiously or like I was already annoying them as they passed. A few of them goofed off for the camera, smacking their ass as they passed or making faces so close to the lens that they fogged it up.
Vince held back, making himself the last player off the ice, and he paused right in front of where I stood, ignoring the camera and focusing on me, instead.
“Having fun, Maven King?”
“That’s one word for it,” I said. I debated recording the exchange, but tucked my phone away, instead. “Nice shot out there.”
“I did it just for you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I did,” he insisted. “I just imagined you jumping up and down when I scored, chanting my name. It was great motivation.”
“I’m sure youwouldlove to hear me chant your name, but I’m not one of your fan girls.”
He tilted his head, smirking like he had a comeback to that, but he kept it locked behind those curled lips of his. Then, his eyes flicked down, and his scarred eyebrow arched high.
“Let me grab you one of my jerseys from the team shop,” he said, staring a bit longer before his gaze found mine again. “Looks like you’re a littlecold.”
He was already hobbling toward the locker room on his skates when I glanced down, immediately mortified to find my nipples so hard they were distinctly visible through my top.
I had dressed for a hot Florida day, not an ice rink.
Idiot.
“I’m not wearing your jersey,” I shot at him, folding my arms over my chest.
He turned, walking backward through the tunnel on his skates. “Wanna bet?”
“Only if you want to lose.”
Vince shrugged, smiling like he’d already won. “I’ll take my chances.”
And then he turned and disappeared down the tunnel, just in time for Coach McCabe to stop right in front of me and block my view.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself before,” he said, extending a hand.
I was still shaken up from the exchange with Vince, which was supremely annoying, and I blinked out of the daze with a smile as I took Coach’s hand in my own.
“It’s perfectly okay. You’re a busy man. I just want to thank you for agreeing to all this.”
“Well, it wasn’t my choice, if I’m being perfectly honest,” he said, withdrawing his hand.
“Oh.” My cheeks heated.
“I want you to feel welcome,” he said. “And I am happy to give you the all-access my general manager promised. However,” he amended, holding up one stern finger. “The last thing we need on this team is a distraction.”
“I understand,” I said before he could continue. “I’ll be like a fly on the wall, sir.”
Coach gave me a quick once over, then smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s possible for you, Miss King.”
Heat blasted my neck once more. It wasn’t like he was checking me out, more like he was just a man appreciating the beauty of a woman.
Also, a coach realizing what a distraction I could be to his team.
“I’m sorry I didn’t dress appropriately.”
