Page 37 of Scarred

After Connor arrived last night, I had an espresso martini ready like promised, and we ended up drinking and talking long into the night about anything and everything. We spent the day at the beach today and are all ready for tonight, but nothing could have surprised me more than the tickets I’m staring at.

“They’re hot, sweaty men on skates, roughing each other up. What part of that did you think I wouldn’t love?” He arches his brow and his blue eyes twinkle as he waits for my answer.

“Good point,” I laugh. “I just wasn’t expecting a sporting event over taking me out dancing.”

“Oh, we’re still going dancing,” he grins wickedly. “The hockey game is just a warm-up. Now grab your purse. I want to have enough time to get drinks before the game starts.” He shoos me to my bedroom and smacks my ass.

“I’m going,” I giggle, disappearing into my bedroom.

Studying myself in the mirror, I debate whether to change my thigh-high black boots because of the hockey game, but decide they look too cute with the black dress and will look good on the dance floor later.

My hair is down tonight and slightly curled, hanging in waves down my back. I chose a smoky eye look, making the green of my eyes stand out even more. I had forgotten how fun it is to dress up. Most of my outfits consist of yoga pants and a sports bra, so it’s nice to feel sexy for a change.

It’s not really a hockey game look, but I don’t want to go dancing at a club later in jean shorts and a t-shirt, so it will have to do.

Grabbing my purse, I make sure I have my phone before heading back out to the living room.

“I’m ready,” I say, walking over to him as he looks up from his phone and smiles.

He’s wearing dark pants and a grey V-neck shirt that hugs his toned chest from years of dance. He’s a very good-looking guy with dark hair and blue eyes. I’m sure there are a lot of heartbroken girls out there who wish he were straight, but Connor definitely only swings one way and makes it clearly known.

“Uber’s ready,” he says, pocketing his phone and grabbing the tickets from the counter. I follow him outside and lock my door before following him down the stairs.

The drive at this hour only takes thirty minutes, and it passes quickly as we make small talk with the driver, who was excited to learn that Connor lives in New York, close to where he grew up.

We’re dropped off in front of the arena, and after handing them our tickets, we get two beers before finding our seats.

“I have to admit this is pretty exciting,” I grin, seeing all the fans in black and white Bolts jerseys. You can almost feel the swirl of anticipation in the air as they wait for the game to start.

If Cayden’s games even feel half of what this crowd feels like, I can see why he loves it.

“I knew you would. This guy I met took me to a New York Devils game once, and I about drooled on myself when I saw their captain. When I heard he got transferred here, I thought I might as well sneak a peek again,” he wickedly smiles.

“So, that’s why we’re here,” I laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll be your wingman if he happens to see you after the game.”

“No,” he laughs. “He’s married with a baby on the way, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to appreciate hotness when I see it. Tonight, though, is all about you. You’re not my wingman this evening—I’m yours,” he winks before stopping at our seats, which happen to be front row right to the side of the goalie net.

I decide to let him have his fun, but I highly doubt I’ll find someone interesting enough to need a wingman. “Nice seats,” I whistle softly instead.

“Only the best for my Lu,” he smiles. “Plus, everyone knows the goalie is the one to watch and where the most action is.” He waves me in first, and I take a seat before he sits down next to me.

The lights dim just then, and a spotlight comes on, zigzagging across the arena. We stand with the crowd as the Bolts’ opening song comes on and adrenaline courses through my body, soaking up the excited atmosphere in the stands tonight.

The players hit the ice one by one, and the crowd goes wild as the announcers call off the starting lineup.

“That’s the captain,” Connor yells over the crowd as number twenty-two hits the ice. I get a glimpse of his face as he skates by and blink in surprise.

“I know him,” I laugh. “That’s Knox Stone. His wife, Savi, is friends with my sister. I had forgotten he played for the Bolts. I didn’t know he was the captain, though. I got invited to their wedding, but couldn’t make it because of a dance thing.”

“I cannot believe you know him and are just now telling me this. And for the love of God…why did you choose dance over seeing this fine specimen of a man in a tux? I could have been your plus one and been surrounded by hockey players all night!” He cries out, throwing his arms in the air.

“Sorry,” I laugh. “I really couldn’t make it, but if anything else comes up, you’ll be the first person I bring with me.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, with a pointed look.

Knox is very good-looking, I note, staring at his gorgeous face with piercing blue eyes. In fact, the whole starting line-up is attractive as they introduce them one by one. Maybe I do need to watch hockey more often.

I smile back at the blond-haired, blue-eyed model type who just grinned at me. His name, Hayes, is written on the back above his number thirteen.