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CHAPTER16
Calista needed to go, or she’d be late to class, and being on time was part of her social contract with the university. No skipping, and no tardiness allowed, all to show Professor Terrence and Sage Hill University that she was professional, worthy of their higher degrees, and capable of being released into the wild without tainting Sage Hill’s renowned reputation. But Ronan was on the move.
His epic speed and smooth balance made the others look like hobby skaters.
She wasn’t the only one to notice. Several of the dancers’ heads turned from their positions belly down on the ice.
Ronan was skating up to the wall in front of her. He waved for her to come down.
She could spare a minute. Calista moved into the aisle and eased down the steps to the wall surrounding the rink.
His eyes and lips were tighter than the other times she’d been close to him. In fact, Ronan wore the kind of expression that shut down the words inside her. Calista was sensitive enough to recognize his tension, despite what being in a special class implied about her lack of awareness. She just didn’t know how to spin this moment in her favor. Dahlia and Piper could have handled any of these guys in their sleep. Not her.
“My position is captain of the Snowers, as you know.” Ronan’s voice was easy, but his words lacked a greeting. Still, he was here, one-on-one with her, but at the same time, making his job clear.
She’d expect nothing less from a man with his cumulative point total since joining the Snowers. A less assertive man would never achieve what he’d accomplished in so short a time. “Calista Amvehl, Snowers fan.” Her voice was soft, but she was pleased to hear it didn’t waver. Sure, she’d erred by not solidly introducing herself when they’d first met, and barely being able to talk to him since, but that hadn’t been intentional. She could get tongue-tied sometimes, everyone did. How’d he like it if she surprised him when he was wearing nothing but a puck? And since then, their interactions had been complicated.
They stood there in silence.
Did he want another apology? Would that fix this? Should she leap in with her praise about his practice performance? Would that be welcome? She just didn’t know. At least he’d come to speak with her alone, in person, and in front of everyone. Bold move, that’s the kind of gutsy guy he was. Her heart did a full rotation. He was amazing.
Ronan pointed back to the team. “I’ve explained to the men that front office actions are out of our control, that we shouldn’t concern ourselves until we need to. But there are loads of rumors flying around, and the men can’t keep their noses out of them. They sent me over to get some answers. Fair?”
Answers? Tension tightened inside of her like an overwound engine belt. There was nothing confusing about her owning seventy percent. What more of an explanation did they want? Calista didn’t know what to say. “I have to go to class.”
Ronan stared at her, his jaw tight. “Let’s start with the jersey you’re wearing. You can see where that puts me in an awkward position.”
Calista shook her head, her feelings starting to hurt, making her face feel hot and her chest tight. Thousands of fans wore his jersey. She looked at him, questioning his opinion with only her expression.
“When you only wear my number, the display makes the guys believe I’m your favorite. That I’m less vulnerable than they are for any upcoming changes, and that my position is secure while theirs is at risk.”
“You are my favorite player. You’re not at risk.”
His face started to soften, and then his jaw hardened. “It’s creating tension.” His voice was firm. “A good start will be for you to nix my jersey.”
Stress wound through her, and she hooked a finger in her neckline to pull it out an inch for some air. “You shouldn’t tell women what to wear.” Not knowing what else to do after relaying that basic truth, and needing to go to class, she left.
* * *
The next day, Calista couldn’t resist going back to the rink to watch training wearing one of her number twenty-two jerseys, despite the fact that yesterday had left her feeling bad, maybe because of it. She’d been up all night replaying her interaction with Ronan, and she wanted practice to wipe those thoughts away.
Calista yawned and curled into her stadium seat. She wrapped her arms around her bent legs and placed her chin on her knees. She sank into the sounds and the motions, letting go of thoughts and her sense of time and place. She lost herself in a dreamy alternate reality until practice ended early.
Ronan again skated up to the half wall in front of her seat and waved her down to him.
Ronan Stromkin, the ice hockey wonder of their generation, the soon to be recognized super star, the man whose touch caused curious flutters under her skin.
Just like yesterday, Calista couldn’t make herself leave. She rose to her feet and moved down the aisle until she was as near to him as the wall would allow. She wore his jersey right to his face and cocked her chin.
“Sorry about yesterday’s interaction. It was…” Ronan worked his jaw. “Less than productive.” He gestured between them. “Let’s start again.” His expression was pleasantly neutral. “Let’s keep it simple. I’ll call the guys over, let them ask their own questions. I’ll keep them down to a mild roar.”
Nightmare, and not in her wheelhouse. Dahlia did the big group presentations, not her. “I have class.” Calista shouldered her backpack.
Ronan stayed put. “Sage Hill?”
Calista paused before answering. “Yes.” Calista hated how she sounded like she wasn’t sure. She’d met Ronan a bunch now and should be more at ease in his presence. How many more meetups would it take for her to be chill around him? She stepped backwards and went up a row.
“Impressive university.”
