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Alex, Miller, Logan, and BJ form the other team.
“What position do you usually play, Winter?” Randy asks.
“I’m pretty versatile. I play right wing, but sometimes defense.”
“You have a preference tonight?”
“Nope. You can put me where you need me.” Defense could be tough because of tight turns in the crease, especially with dull skates.
“Let’s start you on right wing, then.”
“Sure. Sounds good.” I’m a jumble of nerves as I take my place to the right of Randy, with BJ across from me. The easy mood turns serious, which makes sense because these guys, retired or not, are still competitive hockey players.
Clover skates in and drops the puck. There’s a flurry of action as it hits the ice. Randy snags it, and then we’re all barreling toward the net.
I manage an assist in the first five minutes of play, and Randy pats me on the shoulder, his smile wide. “Nice play, Winter.”
“Thanks.”
I’m buzzing from the praise and riding a natural high as we face off again. This time BJ’s team gains control of the puck. I nearly trip as I change course, chasing BJ down the ice. I’m so focused on the puck, and trying to steal it, that I don’t consider my speed, or the tight turn I’ll need to make. Thanks to my dull blades, I lose my footing, careening into BJ and sending us into the boards.
I try to roll away from him, so we don’t end up in a heap on the ice, but somehow, I end up under him anyway.
4 ZING
BJ
One second I have the puck, the next I’m hitting the boards and going down. I push up on my arms, ready to give whoever checked me a shot to the kidneys, until I realize it isn’t my dad or Mav who hit me.
It’s Winter.
And I’m lying on top of her.
Just like this morning when she nearly skidded into the side of my Jeep, time suspends. Everything ceases to exist except her and me.
It’s fucking weird. And unnerving, to be honest, but it also intrigues the hell out of me. She intrigues the hell out of me.
Also, getting taken down by a woman I outweigh by forty pounds is hot. And stimulating in an inconvenient way when I’m wearing a cup.
A whistle blows and time moves again. I’m still doing a push-up on top of her. “Shit. Are you okay? I don’t even know what happened there.”
“I’m fine. Are you okay?” Her gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth, but darts back up again.
“You’re a hell of a lot more than fine.”
“How are you flirting with me right now?”
“It’s a compulsion. I can’t help myself.”
She snorts. “Is this how you thought a coffee date would end, then?” At my confused expression, she adds, “With me underneath you?”
I laugh. “Who’s flirting with who now?”
One second our faces are inches apart, and the next someone is grabbing the back of my jersey. “Dude, get a grip on your hormones,” Mav mutters as he yanks me to my feet.
Uncle Alex moves in, holding out a hand to keep everyone at bay. He drops to one knee beside Winter who’s still sprawled on the ice. “Did you hit your head?”
She props herself on her elbow. Her cheeks are flushed. Possibly she’s embarrassed by all the eyes on her, or maybe it’s my cheesy lines. “I don’t think so.”
