Page 18 of Heart Check
“Thanks again for the help. What’re you working on?” I lean toward her open computer screen. “Shit, is that a whole e-commerce front?”
She slams her computer shut. “Yes. I told you, I have a website for my business. Since I have to figure out a way to win the Young Entrepreneurs Grant on my own. Gotta go big or go home and all. But the hosting plan isn’t cheap, FYI, and I’m not sure I can afford it with the customers I’ve lost this year.”
Just like that, the air between us is frosty with tension again. Does she really blame me and the team for the lack of interest in her bracelets?
When she looks up, our eyes lock. I can’t help noticing how close together we are. Just a few inches. And icy though the atmosphere is, catching a whiff of that coconut scent from her shampoo makes me want to reach out and run my fingers through her hair.
I blink hard and lean back. What thefuck, dude?
That conversation in the back of the diner really got in my head. I can’t stop thinking about her cornering me in the alcove, the flicker of a pulse in her throat, the warmth of her arm in my hand. Even in the decidedly unromantic setting of the library, I can’t ignore the shine of her hair or the flush of color in her cheeks.
Should’ve known better than to touch Harper Braedon. Rookie mistake. It’s making it a lot harder than usual to remember that even poisonous snakes can be beautiful.
I glance at my phone. “Shit, I gotta drop these off before practice. I’m late.” Thank God I have two hours on the ice ahead of me, because I need to shake this conversation off.
She wiggles her fingers at me. “Have fun giving yourself head injuries. And don’t forget—I work four to nine tomorrow.”
I flip her off and head for the door. But I can’t resist stealing a last glance at her before I turn the corner.
She’s staring at her computer as if I was never even there.
The rink is less of a haven than usual. When I pass through the doors, Sabrina from the Spirit Committee is plastering the walls with posters advertising our first game of the season.
“Hey, Dawson!” she says, turning so quickly her blond ponytail whips through the air behind her. “I can’t wait for the Washington game. How’re you feeling?”
I can’t quite suppress my frown. “It’s going to be a tough game. They’re good.”
“But you’rebetter.” She waves a hand through the air, dismissing the other team without a thought. That’s Sabrina, optimistic and confident even when we don’t deserve it. “You beat them 3–0 last year.”
“Yeah. But we’re not the team we were last year. Not without Red.”
Sabrina shrugs. “Maybe you’ll be even stronger!”
I do my best to smile, but from the way she frowns in response, it must not be very convincing.
The locker room radiates the same weird vibes I feel. Everyone’s tense and quiet as I pull on my chest protector and elbow and knee pads.
My gut tightens as I skate onto the ice and see Dan waiting for us, waving to the guys to line up for drills. Even after a few tense but normal practices that followed all of Red’s routines, every cell in my body screams,This is wrong.Dan shouldn’t be the coach in charge today. We’re not some amateur team—we need a guy who knows the game. Who will challenge usto play like sharks and give us the connections we need and deserve!
“Does that guy ever stop smiling?” Noah mutters.
Alex frowns. “Red never smiled. Even when we won a game.”
Noah jabs a finger his direction. “Exactly.That’s how a coach should act.”
Alex opens his mouth as if to say something else, but then Ryan skates past, adjusting his helmet. “What do you think Red’s doing now?”
I shrug. “Soaking up the rays on a beach in the Caymans somewhere? I don’t know, what do you think embezzlers do?”
The guys look at me. “Damn, Dawson. You good?” Alex asks.
“Seriously, don’t let Red get to you.” Ryan spins into the least elegant pirouette I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t even make me laugh like usual. “I want to enjoy this year with you guys. Have fun out there. He doesn’t get to ruin that for us.”
Of course Ryan just wants to have a good time. “I’m here for more than fun.”
His eyes widen, and I immediately feel bad. I don’t mean to say playing for fun isn’t enough, but there’s a difference between the players who are in this for the long haul and those who’ll stop once they graduate. And it’s so weird without Coach drilling me on my backhand shot, and the stakes are so high, and I don’t trust myself to skate my best without him applying pressure.
I take a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m in my head. Had a run-in with Harper before this. Was trying to do my math homework in the library, and she was working on her website, and…” I trail off. Don’t know how to finish that sentence.And she got under my skin.
