Pucking Around: Chapter 77

“What if he doesn’t like that I’m here?” I murmur, standing in our spots two rows up behind the plexiglass. We’re slightly diagonal from the goal. If Ilmari turns his head to the left, he’ll likely spot us. “What if I distract him? Maybe I should go—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Caleb growls, grabbing my elbow. “You’re staying right here, Hurricane. We want both our boys to see you just like this.”

I glance to my left, but Poppy’s not paying attention. She’s in full social butterfly mode, laughing and chatting it up with the season ticket holders seated behind us. I swear, this woman could make friends with a parking meter.

“Why do you want them to see me like this?”

“Because they need the motivation,” he replies.

I laugh, taking a sip of his drink. Regular Coke, of course. Full sugar. I’ll be giving this man insulin shots in his toned ass cheek by the time he’s thirty-five. “Oh, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Cut the shit, Hurricane. You know you look like a hockey wife. You look like his wife,” he adds, his eye darting down to the number 31 on my shoulder.

I swallow, feeling suddenly breathless. I hand his soda back over to him. “Why do you think it matters that I’m wearing Ilmari’s number and not Jake’s tonight?”

“Because Mars will be motivated to win,” he replies. “He’s gonna be thinking about you all game. Every shot on goal, every save. He’ll be thinking about stripping you out of that jersey and fucking you senseless. If we try and lay a hand on you tonight, he’ll bite it off bear-man style.”

“Wearing a jersey is that big a deal?” I say with a raised brow.

“It’s that big a deal,” he replies solemnly. “If I still had a jersey, I’d want to see you in it too,” he admits. “Seeing you in another man’s jersey? Well, it’s a rare kind of torture. One look at you, and Jake is gonna play his best game of the season.”

Hidden in the press of other standing fans, I take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?”

He smirks. “You think our pampered little Taurus is all sweet and spoiled? Just wait until he doesn’t get what he wants. The Kraken forwards better have matador training.”

“Oh, god,” I mutter, just as the lights go out.

Next to me, Poppy is jumping up and down, grabbing my hand as she screams. The opening music starts and the lights come up, creating a super cool tropical reef look across the ice. It’s totally mesmerizing as the lights and the video displays work together to make a visual experience for the arena. It’s like we’re racing through a coral reef, darting like fish. The colors of rippling water dances across all our faces.

“This is so fuckin’ cool,” Cay mutters at my side, reluctantly impressed. Neither of us have ever gotten to see the pregame show from this angle.

I take his hand with a grin, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

By the time the intense music crescendos and the smoke machine starts, they have the crowd going wild as each player is announced. The Rays come shooting out onto the ice as their names are called, starting with the forwards. Langley, then Karlsson, then our captain, Sully. All three of us are losing our minds cheering as they announce Novikov and Compton on defense. Last to hit the ice is Ilmari. The crowd goes craziest for him as he skates slowly towards his goal, totally in the zone.

The lights come up and the Kraken skate out to a horde of ‘boos’ as both sides do their last moments of warmup before the puck drops.

“Let’s get their attention,” Caleb jeers. God, he is such a pot-stirrer! Why does he get off on this so much? His enthusiasm should be dissuading me, right?

Jake and Novy skate past and Caleb calls out.

“Don’t,” I cry, tugging on his arm. “I’ve changed my mind—”

“Hey, 42—you suck!” he shouts as loud as he can, his hands wrapped around his mouth.

Two things happen at once. The two guys standing in front of us duck down to grab their beers. At the same time, Jake’s head jerks around, triggered by the sound of Caleb’s voice. I stand there like a deer in the headlights as he slides to an effortless stop and takes us both in. The glare of the lights off his clear visor means I can’t quite make out his eyes, but I sure as heck can see the set of his jaw clench tight.

“Oh, shit,” Cay mutters, bracing a hand around my waist as Jake comes darting forward.

“Make it stop, make it stop,” I rasp, tugging on his arm.

He just laughs, holding me still.

Jake skates right up to the boards, slamming both hands against the plexiglass. The guys in front of us cry out in surprise as one spills his beer all down his front while his friend laughs.

“What the fuck, Seattle?” Jake shouts as he glares at me.

Next to me, Poppy shrieks. “Compton, what are you doing—”

“Take it off!” he barks at me.

The crowd around us is noticing, all eyes drawn to us. Oh, this is bad, bad. Such a bad idea. Stupid, Rachel!

“Maybe if you play really well tonight, she’ll wear your jersey on Saturday,” Caleb teases, living for this moment of supreme assholery.

The group around us laughs as Jake gives us a look like he just popped his spleen.

“I’m sorry,” I call through the glass, suddenly regretting every single decision of my stupid life. The look of torture on his pretty face is that gutting for me. I want to climb the plexiglass and make him hold me.

But Caleb’s having none of it. “She’s totally not sorry,” he jabs. “Go skate, douche canoe! Try not to embarrass her!”

If it were possible for Jake to spontaneously combust, this would be the moment. Instead, he slowly turns and skates away, shoulders set in determination.

“I’m going to murder you,” I hiss in Caleb’s ear, elbowing him in the side.

“Not yet you won’t,” he says, clearly living for this moment. “Smile for the goalie.”

I gasp, turning my attention to the net where Ilmari is standing. He’s staring right at me through the cage in his mask, his eyes lost to the shadows. Slowly, he lifts it up and back, wanting to see me without any impediment.

The guys in front of us laugh and point at me, ducking away so he gets a clean shot. They might not know exactly what they’ve stumbled into here, but they’re more than happy to help Caleb stir this big ole pot of shit.

The look on Ilmari’s face has me ready to turn into a puddle. “Oh, god,” I whisper breathlessly.

That’s when Caleb raises his arm from my waist to my shoulders, tugging me closer into his side to give me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek. Mars watches the whole thing, slowly lowering the mask back over his face, burying himself deep inside his armor.

“You really do wanna get murdered tonight, don’t you?” I mutter.

“Worth it,” he replies.

The guys in front of us laugh as I push him off and Poppy shrieks. “Oh my goodness, what is happening right now? We don’t want our boys upset before a big game!”

Caleb laughs too, dropping his hand away from me. “Don’t worry, Pop. It’s just a little team-building exercise.” He gives me a wink, his hand dropping back down between us to take mine. We’re the only two who know the truth: the Rays aren’t the team he’s talking about. Not at all.