Page 87 of Blocked Shot
Right now, she’s trailing her fingers down his arm, eyes glinting with mischief.
“You know,” she says, her voice dipping into something syrupy sweet, “I think you might be the only hockey player I’ve ever met who blushes this much.”
Theo stiffens, fingers tightening around his beer bottle. “I don’t blush.”
Mila hums, tapping a manicured nail on his arm. “Oh, babe. You absolutely do.”
Natalie watches the way Theo shifts, his eyes darting anywhere but at Mila. He could drop another player flat with a single hit, but right now, he looks like he’d rather face a full penalty kill than deal with her attention.
“Is it the compliments that get you flustered?” Mila asks, tilting her head. “Or just me?”
Theo exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t?—”
“You don’t have a thing for me?” She clutches her chest in mock devastation. “Ouch. You could’ve at least let me down easy.”
Natalie nearly chokes on her drink.
Theo opens his mouth, then shuts it again, like he’s sifting through the right words and coming up empty. He sighs, shoulders dropping an inch. “That’s not what I meant.”
Mila leans in a little closer, voice turning softer. “Then what did you mean?”
Something twists in Natalie’s chest. She tells herself it is secondhand embarrassment, but that’s not quite right. It’s something else.
She’s known Mila forever. She knows how she flirts, how it’s a sport for her. But this? This isn’t just a game.
Perhaps Theo is different. Perhaps Mila has finally met someone who can throw her off balance.
Jesse slides in next to Natalie, placing a fresh drink in front of her.
“Cheers,” he says, bumping her glass still sitting on the table, knocking back an enormous gulp.
The conversation drifts to off-season plans—where to train, whento meet up for golf, which parties are worth attending. Natalie is relieved to be ignored, free to sink into her drink and let the noise wash over her. But despite the energy buzzing around her, the hollow ache inside her remains. The laughter feels distant, like it’s bleeding through the walls of another room, out of reach.
“So,” Tristan says, glancing around, his speech starting to slur. “Anyone hear from Mac?”
Her stomach twists painfully.
“Yeah, he’s good. Loving the sunshine,” Theo says. Natalie catches his gaze, and there’s sympathy there. Something in the way his eyes soften that makes her throat tighten.
“Did you see when he got into it with Kilkannen last night? That was sick,” Tristan hoots.
“He went beast mode on that poor wretch.”
“Man, I bet he’s drowning in pussy.”
Tristan carries on in cheerful ignorance of Natalie’s discomfort. “Jammy bastard. The girls are so much hotter in California too.
He glances dismissively at Natalie and Mila. “No offense.”
Natalie does her best to arrange her expression into something neutral, but her grip tightens around her glass.
Mila’s eyes flicker to her, and without a word, she reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Under the table, Jesse nudges her knee with his. She looks up, meeting his steady gaze.
“You okay?” he asks softly, his voice a quiet murmur that only she can hear.
A wave of emotion hits her like a punch to the gut, sharp and suffocating. Natalie’s chest tightens, and she blinks rapidly, desperately trying to will away the tears that threaten to spill over. Her throat constricts, the lump in it nearly choking her, making each breath jagged and shallow. She turns her face away, pressing her fingers to the corner of her eyes to stop the burn before it becomes something uncontrollable.
