AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hey, I’m Zane.”
The others finally notice Zane and introduce themselves. I assign him to fold towels so he’s not just standing there while we all dress and shoot the shit.
Once we’re on the ice practicing, I keep an eye on Zane, who’s sitting on the bench with our trainer. They’re talking, which seems like a good sign.
He’s got his mom’s dark hair. I haven’t been able to stop picturing her since the last time I saw her a few days ago. When I asked her out, her voice said no but her expression was saying yes. I can’t figure it out.
There’s most definitely a spark between us. I saw the way her lips parted just slightly when she took hold of my arms while we were ice-skating and the way she blushed when she slipped and I caught her.
I didn’t plan to ask her out; it just happened. I was planning to keep things platonic because the last thing I’d ever want is to mislead or hurt a single mom. Something unexpected happened when we were ice-skating that day, though.
I truly wanted to just take her out on a date. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind. As I watched her talk and laugh, all I could think about was spending several hours doing that. I wanted to sit across from her at a restaurant and listen to her tell me everything about...anything. It doesn’t matter what Tess talks about; I’m always fascinated.
Does she even know how beautiful and interesting she is? She could have any man she wanted eating out of her hand. Not that any man would deserve her.
Hell, I don’t deserve her. But I still want to be around her. Get to know her better. I’ve never been just friends with a beautiful woman, but if that’s all she’ll give me, I’ll take it.
I finish a shooting drill and skate over to the bench for a water break. Zane passes out bottles to those who want them.
“Hit me,” our goalie, Sal, says, opening his mouth.
“He doesn’t want to take his gear off,” I explain. “Hold it up and squirt it into his mouth.”
Zane lifts up the cap on the bottle and tries to squirt it into Sal’s mouth, but he hits him in the eye instead.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s all good, man.”
“You play hockey?” Ford asks Zane.
Zane’s eyes widen. “No.”
“We’ll show you how to shoot pucks after practice. Rookies get a hundred bucks if they can hit Sally in the nads.”
Sal gives Zane a wry smile. “Goalies are always the most picked on because everyone’s jealous of us.”
The rest of us laugh and shake our heads. Zane is almost smiling. It’s the first time since the day my car broke down that he’s looked anything but pissed off around me.
Practice ends early and Ford doesn’t forget his offer. We get Zane into a pair of skates and Sal takes his place in front of the net.
“I can’t ice-skate,” Zane reminds me as I lead him onto the ice, his hand on my shoulder for support.
“You just stand there; you’ll be okay.”
I keep him on his feet while Ford shows him the finer points of a slap shot. He lines up about a dozen pucks and moves out of the way.
“Give it a try.”
Zane blows out a breath. “I’m not very coordinated.”
“No one cares if you miss,” I assure him. “Just give it a try.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he still takes his place where Ford told him to. The first puck he hits slides about twenty feet.
“You made contact,” Ford says encouragingly. “Swing harder this time.”
I’m standing behind Zane, ready to catch him if needed. His next shot is wide, but it makes it to the net.
