Page 67 of Ice King

“Like hell it isn’t. Look at you. You’re sweating. And look at him trying to find you.” Just then, Ford came flying by and I’d be damned if it did seem as if he was trying to find me. Why? There was something going on with him.

All his joking and sexual banter hadn’t been able to hide that he was off kilter about something.

“Would you look at this joker,” another dark, sarcastic voice said over the roar of the crowd. How the hell could I hear him and how had he and couple of his buddies managed to get into the restricted area?

I blew hair from my face while glaring at them. “This shit is getting ridiculous. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait. What are you doing?”

When I set my mind to something, nothing and no one could dissuade me. Or at least that’s how I’d been up until my three-year mental breakdown, which is what I was starting to call my relationship with Hoffman.

As I stormed toward them, a few of the other players on the team noticed, a couple even realizing what I was doing, telling me to go get them. That’s exactly what I had planned.

“Excuse me, boys. Can I help you with something?” For some insane reason, I’d worn a skirt for the game. Not a short sexy one, but something that would give me full flexibility since I’d forgotten to pack my yoga pants. I might as well use the attire to my benefit. I stuck my leg out, which drew their attention.

At least I still had something going for me.

“Yeah, baby. You can help us.”

“Georgia,” Roxanne said from behind me. “What are you doing?”

“Just having a nice chat with these gentlemen.” I could toy with them for a lot longer, but I refused to miss the end of the game. As I moved closer, I snapped my hands on my hips. “I think you’re in the wrong place if you believe you’re going to get away with saying anything negative about a member of the Seattle Wild.”

What bothered me was that none of Ford’s teammates had bothered to hunt down security. While I gathered Coach Stryker was busy, where the hell was the assistant coach?

“Look, boys,” one of the jerks said. “One of those puck bunnies that like it all furry and wild. Let us show you a real man for a change.”

That was it, my patience torched. I shoved him with everything I hand, knocking one guy into the second and both toppling on their asses. The third jerk was smart, jumping out of the way, although he spilled his beer in the process.

At least the commotion drew security’s attention.

“You boys have no idea what real men are like because you have teensy, tiny little dicks.” I accentuated my comment by putting maybe an inch of airspace between my thumb and forefinger.

While my words weren’t memorable and would do no good, at least I felt better, tossing my hair as I turned around.

Roxanne was laughing and at least three players who’d had an up-close play by play had their hands together, bowing.

I blew by them just as Ford was setting up to take a shot. I didn’t know the terminology and certainly couldn’t say I’d fallen in love with the game, but I knew instinctively this was a make or break moment. If he made the shot, the game would be tied, forcing them into overtime.

And if not…

Roxanne and I were both holding our breath, stars floating all around my periphery of vision.

Please. You can do it. I have faith in you.

I clasped my hands together, my entire body shaking as he took the shot.

The goaltender on the other team lifted his head, then his arm.

And deflected the puck.

As the buzzer hit, the game ending, I didn’t need to see the disappointment on Ford’s face.

I could feel the electric vibrations of loss from where I stood.

CHAPTER 15

Georgia