Page 7 of Ice Rebel

As she leaned against the couch, a dreamy expression fell across her face. “Believe it or not, it was a date night with Tyler.”

“Tyler?”

“Yeah, my first and last serious boyfriend. I thought the date was so romantic, something I would have never expected.”

“Oh, story there. Do tell.”

Another roll of her eyes was followed with another swing of her hair over her shoulder. I’d already come to adore the dramatic side to her, which appealed to the artist within me. “He was handsome, rugged, and everything a girl could want. We’d dated during our junior and senior year and I thought just maybe we’d move past graduation.”

“And?”

“And I found him boning my roommate.” She shifted onto the other end of the couch, curling her leg under her and settling into the pillow.

“Ouch,” I said, shaking my head. “Then you and I have something in common. Which is why I’m staying away from men.”

“Now, you know what they say,” she cooed. “The best way to get over a man is…”

Her wicked smile let me know exactly how she’d handled the breakup. I’d done just the opposite, but we finished the expression together. “…to get under one.”

With a laugh, her eyes continued to twinkle. “I wish I had your spunk, but it’s better if I try and work on my career before I’m old and decrepit.”

I tolerated her sinful aspirations by reading her slutty passages in the romance book she was writing and she dealt with my quirks. And I had a lot of them. At least according to my last boyfriend as well as my father.

“Did you at least ogle some of the hot hockey players?”

“I didn’t notice if any of them were hot.” Lie. I’d noticed several of them, especially the one with a huge grin whom I’d blown a kiss to. What had possessed me? Maybe because the way he’d pushed his way through a crowd to get to me had seemed very golden retriever-like.

“You’re either going to become a nun or you’re blind. Even I can say there are some hot hockey players, and I will never include them in my catalog of men.”

My turn for my eyes to open wide. “You have a catalog?”

“Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll allow you to see it some time.” At least we could laugh. “Well, the team thanks you for your service.”

“The team? Oh, you mean the giant hockey boys who were too busy posing for photographs and flirting with the women to pay attention? That team?”

“Hey,” she huffed. “They’re not bad. Just egotistical maniacs with God complexes who think all women drool all over them.”

“It wasn’t only that. What’s with the extreme violence? Are all games completed with brutal public brawls?”

The ire in her expression increased. “When you put big, bad sticks in the hands of three dozen burly men, you run the risk of an overload of testosterone. Hockey is nothing more than an elegant game of indulgent violence.”

“Oh, wow. That is just another reminder of why I can’t stand hockey players.”

“Yet you stayed for the game.”

“Not all of it!” I yanked hair out of my face. “Besides, I felt somewhat obligated.”

“Yeah, I get it. The fights fuel their alpha reputations, which in turn continues feeding their egos and their popularity. Do you know what’s worse?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“A lot of women don’t mind making fools of themselves just to grab a player’s attention. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. The guys love it.”

“I bet they do. What did you call them, pucker bunnies or something?”

“Puck bunnies. Every sport has them, but the girls seem to go wild over the hockey players.” She issued a squeal like a few I’d heard while at the arena.

“Please don’t. If I see another pair of Daisy Dukes on a bottle blonde, I’m going to scream.”