It’s only been a day since I’ve seen Jace Heart in person. Yet, he holds me as if it’d been an eternity. His embrace is warm and holds so much love my heart nearly bursts. He gently places me back on the ice, a large smile brightening his tanned face as he peers down at me with large sage-colored eyes.
“You get to see me train today! I can’t wait to show you that move I was talking about last—”
“Ahem.” Dad interrupts Jace, a cold stare darkens his already hard features as he looks between the blonde and me.
“Like I was saying to everyone. My daughter’s going to be helping with today’s practice…” Dad starts up again, I zone out from whatever he’s saying to the boys as my skin begins to prickle.
The hair on my neck rises and it takes everything in me not to look over each of the taller men around me. You know that feeling when you know you’re being watched? And it may either be a serial killer or a hot stalker... I’m hoping for the latter because I could really use a dark romance thriller kind of love right about now.
Should I be mysterious and act like I don’t feel them starring?
Or should I stare back? Assert dominance, or whatever…
As a matter of fact, fuck dominance and mysteriousness.
My neck practically snaps as I turn my head to face my admirer and my breath hitches as soon as my eyes land on my hot stalker.
Only, he isn’t a stalker.
He’s a hookup.
And he’s on my dad’s hockey team.
Shit.
I immediately look away from Blake, my goosebump-riddled arms are thankfully covered by long sleeves. Coming into a new semester at a new school, I had one goal.
Stay away from the hockey team.
This goal is so simple and yet very much easier said than done. My dad coaches hockey for Christ’s sake and I knew before today that Jace was on the hockey team. Though, I wouldneverhook up with Jace. That ship sailed in high school when we tried to kiss, and both gagged immediately after. I still shudder at the thought of our fifteen-year-old selves playing Spin the Bottle at a party and then nearly puking on each other.
I can feel his water-colored eyes on me as I skate towards Jace when Dad finishes his spiel. His gaze burns holes into the side of my head, and it takes everything in me not to turn back to stare at the beauty of a man.
Blake Wilder.
“You’re helping us today? I thought you hated ice warriors?” Jace questions me as soon as I’m in front of him.
“Ice warriors? Do we get powers or something?” a deep voice asks, sliding beside me and Jace.
He’s, well, he’s fucking gorgeous.
He shines a bright smile my way, his white teeth bright against his dark skin and I’m taken aback by how gorgeous this man is. He’s boyishly handsome; the kind of handsome that can be a load of trouble, and oh my God, are those dimples?
I think I’m going to melt.
“I’m Braxton–” He pauses, eyes widening as ours collide. I mimic his expression as he clears his throat. “But you can call me Brax,” he says, holding his hand out for mine. I stare at his outstretched hand in horror before regaining my composure and awkwardly shaking it.
“Cleo.”
“Oh, I know.” He smirks, sending a quick wink my way before skating back to the rest of the team.
“Ignore him.” Jace chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“I’m trying,” I say, my voice a pitch higher, and I curse myself for it when Jace rolls his eyes.
“Seriously, what’re you doing here?” he asks again, gently rubbing my arms, warming me up like he did when we were kids.
I groan trying to think of a way out of this conversation and sigh as I come up with nothing. I’d known he’d want to talk about my abrupt appearance at SFU and in time, I’d hopefully tell him. But being on the ice with 24 other men was not the place to cry about my life at Brighton and the year of hell I’ve been through.
