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As we start out on our way, I try to nonchalantly check out Arden.
Mmm, I like how he looks in his black athletic pants and dark gray long-sleeved shirt. The man is so taut and tight, and he literally has muscles bulging everywhere. I’m talking quads, biceps, pecs…
I wonder what it’d feel like to be wrapped up in his strong arms.
Good God, Willow, stop.
To do exactly that, I glance over my shoulder and notice there are two hockey sticks lying across the back seat.
Teasing, I ask, “Are we going to be playing some one-on-one this morning?”
Smiling over at me—and oh, what a smile this man has—Arden says, “It wasn’t in the plans. But we can do whatever you want to do, Willow.”
Even though I was just kidding, I may surprise him and take him up on his offer.
With that in mind, I share, “I should warn you, Arden. I played field hockey in high school, and I was pretty darn good.”
His brows shoot up as he glances over at me. “Wow, impressive. Maybe we will play a little one-on-one if you’re up for it. You can show me your moves.”
Ha, I’d like to show him some of my moves…but not on the ice.
Wait, what am I thinking?
Shaking my head and focusing strictly on just hockey, I say, “You got it, Arden. This is so on.”
An hour later, Arden and I are facing off at center ice.
We got in some solid warm-up time, where he was more than impressed with my skating abilities, but now it’s time for our one-on-one.
Come to think of it, after watching his smooth moves on the ice, I’d like to be one-on-one with Arden in a different way.
But alas, here on the ice is where we are.
I remind myself of that annoying little fact as I stare down at the puck between us. We’re both quiet and focused as my cell phone, over on the boards, counts down.
Six, five, four, three, two, one…
A loud ding rings out, and both our stick blades touch the ice.
There’s a little scuffling and—holy crap—I come up with the puck!
He probably let me, but that’s okay, I’m rolling with it now.
Arden shifts left, so I go right.
I think he’s not trying too hard to steal the puck away from me, or to play defense in any real kind of way, but that’s okay. He does pursue me as I skate down the ice to where one of our nets is set up.
This is his net to defend, but I get my shot off before he can get to the front of it.
Yeah, he’s letting me have this one.
Still, it’s a great feeling when the puck goes in.
“I did it!” I yell. “I scored a goal!”
When I turn around, Arden is right behind me, chuckling. “Yes, you did. Good job, Willow.”
Despite the fact I know he totally let me have that one, I’m excited. So much so that, without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck.
