Page 24 of Lucky Shot
“You want me to describe in detail an entire hockey game?”
I can feel the heat in my cheeks and the tightening of my chest as my blood pressure rises. Is he trying to make this more painful or does he just frustrate me that easily?
One hour, I remind myself.
“I’m trying to get a feel for what happens. I know there’s a disc and you try to get it in the basket by whacking it with your stick but I’m a little lost on everything else.” My lips are so cold that even talking feels weird.
He stares at me, unspeaking, for several long moments, then opens his mouth as if to speak, but before he does, a shiver wracks my entire body. I narrowly save my laptop from crashing to the floor.
“Are they going to turn the heat up in here now that the kids are done?” I ask.
He tilts his head to the side, then slowly his gaze moves over me. “You’re cold.”
Not a question. A statement.
“Freezing.”
“It is an ice rink.”
“Yes, well, I packed for summer.”
He stands like he’s going to leave, and I have a momentary panic that he’s changed his mind about helping me.
“Come on.” He tips his head to indicate I should follow.
I grab all my things and stand. My butt tingles and my legs protest the movement. I am so cold I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you won’t turn into an icicle.”
8
RUBY
“Hey, Champ,” a woman greets Nick as we enter the restaurant together. Her gaze goes to me and I get a far less enthusiastic, “Welcome in.”
We’re at a place down the street from the rink. It felt so good to walk outside in the sunshine I almost didn’t want to go inside another air-conditioned building, but it’s not nearly as chilly in here as the rink.
“Why did she call you Champ?”
He shrugs.
“Some kind of nickname?”
“Something like that.”
Is he embarrassed? It’s hard to read any emotion on his face.
“I can think of a lot worse nicknames than Champ,” I say, thinking of all the terrible things people called me over the years as we sit in a booth in the back corner.
He quirks a brow in a silent challenge. I sit forward and place my elbows on the table.
“Red, for starters.”
His lips quirk with a smile and one of his dimples peeks out.
“Then there’s Big Red, Carrot Top, Ginger, Firecracker?—”
