Page 23 of Lucky Shot
I swivel around so quickly, my braid flips dramatically over my shoulder and into my face. I brush it back with one hand, seething. “My name is not Red. It’sRuby.”
For one moment he looks stunned at my outburst, then his usual bored stare returns.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving. You win.” My voice wavers. Dammit. I really don’t want to cry in front of this guy.
“Osmosis didn’t work?” he asks dryly.
I glower back at him, then stomp forward. He’s in his skates but standing on some sort of rubber mat just off the ice. I march right up to him, close enough that I could poke him in his stupid, broad chest. Warmth radiates off him, reminding me how cold I am.
“I get that your dad blindsided you with this whole thing, but I was blindsided too. At least you didn’t travel thousands of miles only to find out the man holding your career in his hands is the world’s biggest jerk. Would it really be so awful to answer a few stupid questions? Well guess what? I don’t need you. There are plenty of people out there who can help me and do it without being such an asshole.”
My chest heaves as I get out the last part. Plenty might be a stretch, but there has to be at least one person willing to help me, right? If there is, I know Molly will find them.
His jaw works back and forth. It’s my cue to leave, but the crash of adrenaline is washing over me, and I am exhausted.
“One hour,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Camp is over at five. As soon as the kids are gone, you can ask me your questions. Then, we’re square.”
My muddled brain works entirely too hard to process his words.
“Wait.Nowyou’re going to help me?”
He turns, giving me his back as he steps back onto the ice. Then he pauses and looks at me.
“Why?” I ask.
His lips curve down. “Beats the hell out of me.”
I’m so cold, I’m numb. My butt hurts from sitting on the bleachers and my stomach is growling mercilessly.
I spend the time waiting for Nick sitting back in the stands with the parents. I alternate between watching Nick and the kids on the ice, editing my book, and going over my questions to ask him.
I thought I was going to have plenty of time to get everything I needed so I whittle the list down to what I think are the most important things. While I work, I sneak glances at the woman next to me. She’s nearly finished the book now. “A gripping page-turner,” one headline boasted. “You won’t be able to put it down,” another said. I hate that they were right. And I really don’t like the way hating someone this much makes me feel. I’m not cut out for it. I love people and I like to think they’re generally good. I might hate that he’s made me question that more than anything else.
Three hours later, the kids are finally done. I can no longer feel my fingers and have taken to sitting on them.
Nick changes out of his skates into regular shoes and helps corral the children to their parents. He accepts handshakes from the men and smiles politely back at the women who thank him.
Once they’re all gone, he makes his way to me. My pulse picks up speed as he takes the seat next to me. He smells like the ice and a hint of something woodsy and masculine.
“Hi.” I reach for my laptop, open it, then tilt my screen down so he can’t read it. It isn’t personal. I have a hard time letting anyone read my words until I’m finished with a story. It’s too messy. Too rough.
“I have exactly one hour.” He rests his hands on his legs, drawing my attention to his thighs. They’re big, straining the fabric in a way that makes my pulse pick up speed. Attracted to someone’s muscular thighs…that’s a new one for me.
I blink back my focus and angle myself so I’m facing him with my computer still on my lap. “Great. Should I jump into the questions?”
He nods.
“Okay.” I read the first one. “Can you walk me through a typical hockey game?”
He blinks.
“Is that not what it’s called?” I glance back at my notes. “Is it called a match or something?”
“No. It’s a game, but…” He seems to struggle choosing his words. “There isn’t really a typical way it goes. It varies based on so many factors.”
“Okay, then let’s just go through the last one you played.”
