Page 16 of Penalty Box
I coasted into a slow loop, bending low into a turn. Then stopped cold when I spotted movement from the corner of my eye. Just a silhouette at first, near the side entrance, half-shrouded in shadow.
I straightened up fast, heart kicking into overdrive.
The devil himself.
He leaned one shoulder against the glass, freshly showered in a pair of gray sweats and plain white t-shirt. The look on his face gave no sign about what just went down in that locker room. Instead, he looked… happy to see me.
“Jesus,” I breathed, instinctively skating back a few paces. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
He didn’t move. Just gave that slow, crooked grin that made it feel like the air was being sucked out of my lungs all at once.
How could a guy look so effortlessly gorgeous?
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “Was just on my way out and thought I heard skates.”
My pulse was rattling, but I did my best to play it cool. “You’re not supposed to be here. Early flight tomorrow.”
“Says the girl doing pirouettes in the dark.”
“They’re called crossovers,” I muttered, although I knew he was just teasing.
“Looked like pirouettes.”
“Looks like someone with terrible taste in music shouldn’t be judging.”
He laughed under his breath, and the sound fluttered through the cold air.
I hated how warm it made me feel.
“Is there room for one more?” He was already taking his skates out of his bag.
I skated up to stop him. Everything about this was a bad idea.
“Coach hates it when the team skips rest hours,” I said.
And Mason’s response was to boot up and break onto the ice as if he weren’t flirting with disaster. In more than one form. I stood there, hands on hips, watching him carve long, easy strokes down the length of the rink.
“Show-off.” I glided toward center ice.
He spun at the far end and came coasting back toward me backwards. Backwards.
“This? This is my basic skill level.” His grin flashed like he knew exactly the kind of chaos he was inviting.
My eyes narrowed. “On account of you being out past your bedtime?”
Mason skated a few quick circles around me. “Oh, I’m wide awake, Firestarter. Must be all the post-match adrenaline.”
“I think you just like breaking rules.”
He skidded to stop right in front of me, one hand on my waist as ice went flying. “And I think you like it when I do.”
Cocky. But unfortunately, not wrong.
I tried not to play into it, but a smile crept onto my lips anyway. He was barely touching me, but the warmth seeped through my jacket as though he was made of pure lava.
“Big talk for a guy who almost ate it in slap shot drills.”
He winced, skating back on shaky legs, hands clutching his heart. “That was a low blow.”
