Page 11 of Penalty Box
“It’s a part.” I was already backing up. “You’re welcome. Don’t make a thing of it.”
“Where’s home?” He took a few steps to follow, then stopped.
I laughed harder, and gave him a dismissive wave. “Nice try, Mason.”
“It’s not fair that you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“See you around.”
And as I made my way to the back of the arena where I was parked, my steps were lighter, my heart out of control, and the stupid smile on my face refused to budge.
4
Mason
There was nothing wrong with my blade.
I knew it. The equipment guy knew it. Firestarter would definitely know it. But I still limped my way into the maintenance hallway like I’d taken a puck to the ankle.
“Got a minute?” I held up my skate.
She looked up from her workbench, one brow arching as if she already smelled the lie I was about to tell. God, she was gorgeous, a casual angel in stained blue jeans and a black Pixies t-shirt.
“Let me guess,” she said, coming over to me. “Blade’s loose again?”
I nodded solemnly. “Wobbly. Very dangerous. Could cause a team-wide catastrophe.”
“That’s strange.” She took my skate and flipped it over in her hands that were far too delicate for the work she did. Yet somehow incredibly capable. “They were fine a couple of days ago when you had your last near-death experience. I made sure of it.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought that far. That my continued visits would look like I was calling her work into question.
“This is the other one,” I replied.
She didn’t even try to hide her smirk. “This thing’s flawless. You want me to break it for you so you have a reason to be here?”
I leaned against the doorframe and smiled, hands in my pockets. “Now why would I ask you to break something beautiful?”
Her eyes cut to mine. Just for a second. But it was enough to knock the breath sideways in my chest. She was so damn good at acting like I didn’t get to her, like she didn’t even notice this thing that was clearly happening between us.
There were moments, though… When she blinked a little too slow or didn’t look away fast enough.
Like now.
“Exhibition game’s tonight,” she said, turning back to her actual work. “You planning on spending it in the locker room pretending you’re injured?”
“Depends. Will you be there?”
Her hand stilled.
“I might be near the ice,” she said carefully. “Why?”
I shrugged. “We’re playing the Cyclones. You might be the only thing worth watching.”
She snorted. “You’re bad at this.”
“At what?” I moved into the room and sat at the end of her workbench. She didn’t seem to mind me in her space.
“Flirting.”
