Page 66 of Lucky Shot
“Maybe we should get you a helmet.”
“Give me a puck.”
“You’re not ready for that.”
“I want a puck,” she all but demands.
“Feisty thing,” I mutter and skate over to the bench without taking my eyes off her. “Don’t move.”
“I’m feeling more confident,” she says, then wobbles. Thankfully, she rights herself without falling and shoots me a sheepish smile. She has a knack for making my blood pressure rise.
I come back with gloves, a few pucks, and a helmet.
She pouts adorably as I toss the pucks onto the ice and move toward her with the helmet.
“I really don’t look good in hats.”
I know that’s a lie. She looked hot in my old baseball cap. Come to think of it, I can’t remember a single time she hasn’t looked gorgeous. “Better than you will with a concussion.”
She rolls her eyes. See? Fucking adorable.
While she holds still, I put the helmet on her. It’s one of mine so it’s a little big, but it should do the trick. I slide the visor down, then take the gloves from under my arm.
She holds out her right hand and lets me put it on, then the left. I’ve helped a lot of kids put on gear, but this is…different.
“These are very uncomfortable,” she announces, moving one around like it’s a robot arm.
“You get used to it,” I say. “And they’ll keep you warm.”
“I haven’t been warm since I left Arizona.”
My lips twist into a smile. She’s all geared up now and ready to go.
“All right, Madison. Let’s see what you got.”
She quirks a brow with an amused grin. “Look out, Galaxy. I’m coming for your job.”
And then she falls on her ass.
Things I learn about Ruby over the next hour.
She is stubborn. Maybe more than anyone I know. She hits so many pucks at the net, determined to get one in the goal. Any other person would have given up long before she finally manages to get one on target.
When she’s excited and happy, she bounces in place, which almost always ends with her on her ass.
As such, I learn she lied about her underwear (as I suspected) and that they’re pink. I tried not to look, promise.
And lastly, she is by far the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.
“My entire body hurts,” she groans as we take a seat on the bench.
“I have no doubt.”
She gives me a side-glare but can’t manage to keep it up for long. Her lips curve and as she laughs, she rubs one hip.
“There’s an ice bath in the therapy room.”
“More cold?” She shakes her head vehemently.
