THE ARENA IS empty except for the players on the ice. Half wear white jerseys over their pads, and half wear blue jerseys, and they run drills while Jamie and the second-string goalie guard each net. The coaching staff stand on the side of the ice with clipboards, calling out feedback to the players.
I take a seat in the stands behind the bench, clutching the keys Jamie forgot on the counter this morning.
Jamie’s in the net, blocking pucks that players shoot at him. He’s fast as lightning. I don’t even see the puck and he’s already caught it. Between drills, he gets on his knees and does these hip-thrusty moves to stretch. In my head, I hear seventies porn music and hide my smile behind my hand.
The whistle blows, and the guys skate off the ice before filing through the hall to the dressing room, pulling helmets off and talking to each other. A few of them send me curious glances.
A big blond guy with a charming, boyish grin leans on the railing separating us. His damp hair is cropped short, and he has the bluest eyes.
“Are you lost?” he asks.
“No.” My cheeks go pink. “I’m Pippa, Jamie’s assistant.”
His smile broadens. “Streicher didn’t say anything about a pretty assistant.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. Some guys can’t pull this vibe off, but he can. Despite his size, he feels like a big golden retriever, goofy and fun.
“Dude,” I tease, wincing at him. “Is that your line?”
He chuckles, not even a little embarrassed. “How come I’ve never seen you at one of the games?”
“I don’t really like hockey.” I make a face and shrug. “Sorry.”
“Pippa.”
At the sound of Jamie’s voice, my stomach fizzes. Jamie strides toward us with an expression like a storm cloud. His hair is also damp with sweat, which should be gross, but it’s weirdly hot on him. He stops between the blond guy and me like he’s trying to shield me.
My face heats even more. I hope he doesn’t think I’m here to scope out players or something.
“You forgot your keys,” I tell him, holding them out. “I didn’t want you to get locked out while I’m walking Daisy.”
“Thanks.” He takes them before shooting the blond guy a weird look. A lock of dark hair falls into Jamie’s eyes, but he doesn’t notice.
The blond guy smiles even wider at me. For a hockey player, he has surprisingly nice teeth. “I’m Hayden Owens.”
“Pippa.”
“Hi, Pippa.” Hayden looks at Jamie. “How come you don’t invite her to games?”
Jamie frowns and flicks a glance at me.
“I take care of the dog in the evenings, usually,” I say quickly, not wanting Jamie to be in an awkward position.
Hayden leans on the railing, and Jamie’s jaw tenses. “Pippa, do me a favor, okay?” He jerks a nod at Jamie. “Make this guy come out with us after a game. Half the team is afraid of him because he doesn’t talk.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and Jamie turns his glare to me.
“I can see it,” I tell him. “You glare a lot.”
Hayden chuckles.
The corner of Jamie’s mouth twitches, and my stomach has that fizzy feeling again. I smile wider—I can’t help it. I’m getting used to being around him, and that starstruck feeling I had is slowly melting away.
So I had a crush on him in high school. That was years ago. I’ve learned so much since then—mainly to never, ever date one of these superstar guys who has everything at their fingertips. Nothing will ever happen with Jamie Streicher. Knowing this bolsters my confidence.
Hayden walks backward to the dressing room, pointing at me. “Pippa, nice meeting you.” He points at Jamie. “Remember what I said.”
Hayden leaves, and I get to my feet, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets. “Alright, I’m going to go.”
“Hold on a sec.” Jamie rubs the back of his neck, and I’m curious. His throat works.
It’s like I’m seeing a hidden layer, one where he’s nervous.
“I was wondering,” he says, and I wait. “My mom. She’s been bugging me to come to a game.”
“Oh, that’s so nice.” A smile lifts on my face, and I wonder what his mom is like. “You want me to arrange the tickets with the office?”
“Uh, no. I can do that.” His eyes meet mine. “I was thinking you could go with her.”
My expression is dubious. “You know I don’t know anything about hockey, right?”
His face relaxes, and he makes a noise that’s almost a laugh. Almost. Like an amused hum. “That’s okay. She doesn’t care. Just keep her company.”
“I can do that. Is she grumpy like you?”
I blurt it out without thinking. The more Jamie and I hang out, the easier it is to tease him like this. This is a hell of a lot better than the tense, awkward silences.
He arches an eyebrow, and something bubbles up inside me. It feels like delight. “No.”
Even though he isn’t smiling, his eyes glitter, encouraging me. I make an overexaggerated face of relief. “Good. That would be a long night.”
He stares at me, and I flatten my mouth so I don’t laugh. It feels like he wants to smile, and my heart is bouncing around in my chest like a ping-pong ball. If I had seen this version of Jamie in high school, I’d have been a full-out stalker.
“Very funny,” he says instead.
I roll my eyes. “I know, I’m hilarious. Okay, I’m gonna head home.”
“Thanks for dropping off the keys.”
“No problem.” I take two steps before I stop and turn to him. He’s still standing there, watching me leave. “Jamie?”
He waits, watching me intently.
“You should go out with the team. I bet it would be fun.”
His gaze roams my face, and it feels like he wants to say something, but he just nods once. “I’ll think about it.”
