Page 73 of Ice Wolf
I shrank back in the seat, certain the crowd would find a way to break into the car.
“Just hold on,” he half shouted since the people were close to yelling outside the windows in their determination to get in.
“You’re not going to run them down. Are you?”
“Nah. Not unless they force me to.” He was laughing the entire time as he threw the gear into drive, letting his foot off the brake. When they didn’t budge, he shifted the gear into neutral, revving the engine for a second time.
They still didn’t act as if they were going anywhere.
“How can you stand this?”
“You learn how to handle them. They just want their fifteen minutes of fame. As long as they don’t scratch the car, I don’tcare.” He pushed down on the accelerator just enough the car jerked forward a few inches.
A few people moved, but not enough to gain any traction.
“They aren’t going to move. What are we going to do?” I could feel a bit of hysteria increasing. Meanwhile, he was still having fun with this.
“Oh, stop worrying. Trust me. They’ll move.” He repeated the action twice before it seemed the group finally got the message, parting the ways as if the Red Sea. He rolled through, even taking the time to wave before gunning the engine, the powerful roar going all the way to my core.
I twisted in my seat, watching in amusement as they started chasing us. Did they really think they’d be able to catch up with us?
“Do not tell me you go through this every night of a home game.”
“Almost,” he sputtered and neared the end of the parking lot. There was no stopping the man or his love of speed. He tore from the lot, making a sharp right. The tires squealed and instead of being terrified by his insane driving skills, I burst into laughter.
“How many speeding tickets have you gotten over the years?”
“Only one. The officer hated hockey. Just like you.”
“I didn’t say I hated hockey. I just don’t see the point in the game.”
He grumbled under his breath. “Of all the public relations experts, I’m provided with one who loathes the game of hockey.”
“Very funny.” He took another sharp turn and even with the seatbelt on, I was pitched in his direction.
With my hand being ending smack on top of the thick bulge between his legs. I didn’t realize at first until he grinned and threw me a heated look.
“Is there something you want, sweetheart?”
“Oh, my God. No. Not even a little bit.”
“Second wounding of the day. Are we going for three strikes?”
I folded my fingers. They were still tingling. From just touching him. “Maybe we can call a truce for the night. Okay? I’m exhausted and need to jump on how to handle this… fiasco.” I wasn’t lying, but he also didn’t deserve the full wrath of my bad mood.
“Okay, fine. We can do that. I’ll take you to your apartment.”
“What about my car?”
“Why don’t I pick you up in the morning and we’ll have breakfast?”
“Don’t you have practice or something?”
He grinned as he made a turn, flying down the highway. “Nah. We get a couple days off before the playoffs start. Maybe we can make some incredible memories. Together.”
“Maybe we can find a way to get your head out of the sand.” I cringed as soon as I tossed out the barb. There went my caustic mouth again. His sigh and the way he had his hand clamped around the steering wheel were an indication of how much my words bothered him. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But youdid almost hit the reporter. You can’t do that. A few are going to push every button because you’re hotheaded.”
“I get it. I’ll work on my anger management issues.”
