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Kelsey hurries her steps.
She's fast in heels. Yeesh. I can't even keep up in my Sketchers.
"I'm going to take you back to a private area near the locker room," she says over her shoulder, waving at the security guard standing at attention near a set of double doors. He jerks his chin in a nod and opens one of them for her.
We slip in behind her.
The hallway is mostly empty. There are a couple chairs scattered around but not much else.
"We're almost there," she says. "You guys had great seats."
Yeah, we did. Weston gave my dad some of the best seats in the house, right at center ice. We were close enough to the bench that I could feel Weston's eyes on me every time he came off the ice for a breather in the third period. I avoided his gaze, of course.
"Y'all can wait here," Kelsey says, pointing to a little area just around the corner from the locker room. It's more of an alcove than a room, but there's no one back here besides us. "I'll send him in here to see you before he goes to the locker room. Otherwise, it may be a while before he's freed up to talk to you."
"Um, thank you," I murmur.
"No problem." She pauses and then grins at me. "Give him all the hell you want."
I open my mouth to respond, but she hurries off, her heels clicking on the floor.
"Wow," Addison says, wandering around the small space. "You must have really made an impression on him, Laney."
"He's probably just irritated that I didn't show him my boobs," I mutter, scowling at the roses. Why else would he have rigged the contest? I doubt he gets turned down very often. It hurt his pride. Now, he's determined to convince me to let him sign my boobs.
Even though that's probably true, the thought is oddly disappointing.
Before I can think too hard about why, a chorus of loud voices sound in the hallway, scattering my thoughts. My heart leaps into my throat and then starts racing.
Addison reaches out to squeeze my hand in silent reassurance.
It doesn't help. I feel like I'm going to throw up or maybe pass out.
"Hey," Weston says a few seconds later, coming around the corner. His hair is damp and plastered to his head. He's carrying his helmet in his hands. I never noticed before how big they are. His hands, I mean. Not his helmet. It's normal sized.
He glances at Addison, who waves at him. Unlike most guys, he doesn't stare at her or anything like that. He just looks at her, jerks his head in a nod, and then turns back to me.
"You came," he says, moving closer. With his skate guards in place to protect the blades, he walks more than skates toward me. His relieved smile slips when I take a step back, trying to keep a little distance between us.
"You rigged the contest," I say, the first thing that comes to mind.
"Prove it," he says, grinning again. And god, I want to kiss that stupid crooked smile off his handsome face. And then kick him in the shin.
I'm a woman of many depths. What can I say?
"If this is a ploy so I'll ask you to sign my boobs, I'd rather just skip to the end," I mutter, trying to maintain my scowl. It's not working though. Already, I feel it sliding off my face like condensation down a window. "I'll ask you to sign them if you cancel the date."
"Hell no," he growls, leaning up against the wall less than a foot away from me.
"No?"
"I'm not cancelling this date, angel."
"The donation is already made. You don't have to follow through with the date."
"I'm not cancelling," he growls.
"But…" I gape at him, not sure what to say. I really thought that would work.
