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“We betting today?” Howey asks, skating around me backwards.
“Oh you know it, asshole.”
He rubs his hands together like he can’t wait to set the terms. “I get three in, I get to borrow your bike this weekend.”
It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm this weekend, and I’d planned on riding too. He could just come with me…Then I narrow my eyes at him as realization dawns.
“Whichbike?”
His brown eyes glitter with mischief. “The blue Indian.”
You fucker. I grit my teeth. That’s my favorite fucking bike. If he so much as scratches the paint on her…but then I stop myself and give him a cocky smile. He won’t be getting shit past me.
“You’re on.”
He lets out a loudwhooplike he’s already won. I just smile. Justin Howe—who we of course call Howey because if it’s one thing athletes love, it’s a good nickname—is good, our lead scorer actually, but I’m better. I’m not being cocky, or maybe I am a bit, but it’s also the truth.
“And when I win, I get your cabin for New Years.”
He snorts. “You can have it even if—when—you lose. We’re spending it with Trinity’s family down in Miami this year, so the cabin is all yours. Just like your bike is gonna be all mine.” I laugh, shoving him in the shoulder. He puts his hands up, preparing to fight, but before we can start messing around, one of our assistants yells at me from across the ice.
“Shep! You’re up!”
Howey straightens and reaches out to muss my hair and then brushes invisible dirt from my shirt. “You look great, dear.”
I shove his hand away, laughing, and skate to the other side of the rink. As I approach, I see the guy with a camera, the one with the mic, someone with a headset and a tablet, and—wow. A woman is there talking to Coach Lantz, and she is…wow. Seriously, she deserves a double wow. Tall and slender, though not a twig, with brownish-red hair set in those loose, wavy-curls that I love, brushing just past her shoulders.
She smiles warmly at Coach, and—Fuck me. Dimples. She’s gotdimples. Dimples are like my kryptonite. Don't ask me to explain it. She’s in a black dress that hugs her in all the right places, and I just stop myself from rubbing a hand over my mouth.Get a grip, Shep. Granted, it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, but still, you’d think I’d never been laid with the way I’m lusting after this girl.
I slid to a stop near the edge of the wall and she looks over. Her eyes are a deep, ocean blue, her black liner winging out at the corners in an alluring way. I always love when girls do that cat-eye thing. They widen slightly as she takes me in and I grin. I'm usuallya lotfor people at first glance.
“Hattie, this is Connor Shepherd. Shep, this is Hattie McNamara, our new Assistant Director of Marketing and Media.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, extending my hand.
“You too,” she says as she places her hand in mine. I don’t know if I imagine the soft inhalation before she quickly withdraws her hand and tucks a curl behind her ear. Probably. “So, uh, we’re doin' aMeet the Vipersseries so the fans can get to know y’all a bit. We’ve got some standard questions and some fan-submissions too. It won’t take too long.”
She’s got a sweet southern accent. Not over the top, but a nice little drawl that will have most of the guys desperate to get in her pants. I’m not sure where she’s from, but it’s definitely not Seattle. I wonder how long she’s been here. Where is she from? Did she move for the job?Why am I suddenly so God damn interested in this random stranger?
“I’m all yours,” I say, giving her a smile that’sjustthis side of flirty. She gives me a tight smile back and I worry that I’ve made her uncomfortable, but then I get the idea that she’s just trying to keep things professional. Totally understandable.
“Alright, here we go. Oh, and remember to keep it PG rated if you can.”
I laugh. “Ah, you already interviewed Roman, didn’t you?” She scrunches her nose and her tight smile turns into an easy one. Roman has no filter whatsoever and reporters had learned fairly quickly to either be ready with thebleepsound, or to just not ask him any questions at all. I chuckle, shaking my head. He’s a good guy, just doesn’t seem to know how to utter one sentence without at least five expletives in it.
“I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.”
She nods at the camera guy and then turns back to me. “Ok, here we go. We’ll start easy: What’s your name and what position do you play?”
“I’m Connor Shepherd and I’m the goalie for the Vipers—everyone calls me Shep.”
“And how long have you been with the Vipers.”
“This is my—" I raise my eyes upward, doing the quick math in my head "—seventh season.”Fuck, seven already?Feels like just yesterday I got the call that the Vipers wanted me, and I'd left the Kodiaks. Rizzo and Ibothleft them, actually, and now there's definitely bad blood when we play each other. Rizzo and I have been nearly inseparable since freshman year in college, and I always joke that he couldn’t survive without me so he had to follow me all the way to Seattle. He of course claims that I would be nothing without him and so he took pity on me and came with. Honestly, I can’t imagine playing without him on the ice with me, so whether I dragged him along or he followed or however the fuck it happened, I couldn’t be more thankful.
We do a handful more typical get-to-know-you type questions:
Where am I from?Outside of Bangor, Maine originally.
