As we face off with the opposing team at center ice, I might as well be flying instead of skating.
I can still feel the pressure of Margo’s lips against mine, can still taste her on the tip of my tongue, and it’s the best kind of inspiration a man could ever ask for. I look up in the stands, and she’s there, her cheeks flushed and her phone in her hand as she records footage of our game. She’s smiling from ear to ear, and even better—she’s wearing my jersey.
She looks like a fucking wet dream, and possessive satisfaction roars through me as I shift my focus back to the ice.
The ref drops the puck, and I dig my blades into the ice and try to break through the Titans’ defenses, determined to show Margo that she’s the best kind of luck.
I get possession of the puck, and with the practiced moves that earned me my spot on this team, I dance around a sluggish defenseman and skate toward the net like a streak of lightning. The goalie tries to block my shot, but I fake him out with a tricky deke and snipe the puck into the top corner of the net. The arena erupts in a thunderous roar, and my teammates swarm me, delivering bone-crushing hits to my chest pads.
It’s a great way to start the game, and I can tell I’ve shifted the mood a little among my team.
We’re not just going to win tonight.
We’re going to dominate.
The Aces continue to play like we’ve got nothing to lose, and we score another goal right before the end of the first period. During each break in the action, I scan the crowd looking for Margo, and she’s always there, gazing right back at me. As the second period starts, Grant has to make a few impossible saves, but he somehow manages to let nothing by him. We’re still two points up, and I assist Theo in making a third goal.
In the last period, Reese makes not one but two goals in a matter of a few minutes, and it’s looking like we’re going to have a shutout on our hands. With under a minute to go, the Titans get the puck and come shredding toward our goal, but I’m faster. I body check their center, and he loses the puck seconds before the horn goes off.
The game is over.
We won, five-to-nothing.
Before leaving the ice, I take one more second to look up and meet Margo’s eyes. She’s smiling at me, and my chest fills with a kind of happiness I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced before. Her face is bright, her cheeks flushed, and even though I know she’s technically cheering for the whole team, a part of me feels like we’re the only two people in the entire arena.
She tugs subtly at the sleeve of her jersey to show me that it has my number on it, and it makes me laugh. The pull toward her is so strong that I almost consider leaving the ice through one of the other doors and running up the stairs toward the row she’s sitting in. I want to wrap my arms around her and kiss her in front of every single person here.
Theo skates up to my side, clapping me on the back and breaking me out of my fantasy. “Okay, now you have to come out for a beer with us. That game was insane. We need to celebrate!”
“Not tonight,” I tell him, shaking my head.
“One drink,” he coaxes.
“Nah, sorry. I have plans.”
He gives me a narrow-eyed look. “Plans? With who?”
“With… people.”
“What people?” Theo demands. “I know for a fact that the only people you hang out with are all going out with us tonight.”
“Believe it or not, I lead a rich and varied life outside of the Denver Aces, thank you very much,” I insist as we skate toward the bench.
“I don’t believe it.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I promise, I’ll go out with you guys next time. I just really can’t tonight. But I’ll make it up to you. To the whole team. Next time we’re at the bar, I’m buying for the whole night.”
He points a finger at me. “I’m holding you to that.”
To Theo’s credit, he lets it go after that, and we follow the rest of the team off the ice without another word on the subject.
My post-game ritual goes by in a sort of blur. I do the requisite press interviews, then take off my gear and organize it all inside my bag. After hitting the showers, I pull on a clean t-shirt and jeans, my thoughts consumed with Margo the entire time. I mumble a goodbye to my team and am about to head out of the locker room when Reese frowns at me.
“Hey, Noah, where are you going?”
“He’s not going out tonight,” Theo answers for me. “He’s got ‘plans’.”
“Plans?” Reese shakes out his damp blond hair. “With who?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know!”
“It doesn’t matter,” I hedge evasively. “I’ve just got something I can’t reschedule, okay?”
“Guys, lay off him,” Grant grunts from the corner as he picks up his shirt. He shoots a quelling look at my two teammates, his dark blue eyes cutting their way. “He worked his ass off out there on the ice. He deserves to unwind from a game however he wants to.”
“Thanks, man.” I shoot him a grateful look. “You get it.”
“You know you’re doing something wrong when Grant is the one coming to your defense,” says Theo. “Do you really want to be grouped in with Grant the Grump?” He glances at our goalie. “No offense.”
Grant just snorts a laugh and goes back to tugging his shirt over his head. He clearly doesn’t mind being known as the team’s unofficial grouch. Grant is the stern, uptight one who takes everything too seriously, and he seems to like it that way. I, on the other hand, am not exactly loving the idea of gaining a reputation similar to Grant’s, but it’s not like one night off from going out with the guys is really going to change the team dynamics all that much.
Plus, it’s Margo we’re talking about here. I would skip a million nights at the bar just to spend a single one with her.
“Look,” I tell the room at large, holding my hands up. “I already told Theo, I’ll go out with you guys next time, and pay for all your drinks, I swear. Just not tonight.”
Without waiting for anyone else to give me shit, I quickly slip out the locker room door and make my way down the corridors toward the exit. As I’m heading to my car, I get a text from Margo.
MARGO: Going home to shower. Meet at your place in an hour?
ME: Perfect.
I text her again to let her know the keycode that will get her into my building, since the doorman isn’t on duty this late. Then I rush back to my condo.
Keeping an eye on the time, I change into a nicer shirt and run a comb through my hair, then tidy up the apartment. It’s not super messy, since I tend to keep my space more or less clean, but there are some things that need to be put away and dishes that need washing.
Exactly fifty-five minutes after Margo texted me, I’m opening a bottle of vodka while waiting nervously for her to arrive.
Two minutes later, a soft knock sounds at my door, and I swear to god, my heart actually skips a beat.
I stride over to the door and fling it open. Margo is on the other side, dressed in a little black dress that perfectly hugs her curves. She has a larger purse than I usually see her with, and I wonder whether or not she’s brought things to spend the night. My heart thumps inside my chest as an image of her lying in my bed fills my mind. That black dress crumpled up on the floor, along with her shoes and panties…
Holy fuck. I think I just found out what heaven would look like.
“Hi,” she whispers with a smile that nearly knocks me over.
“Hi.” I grin at her like an idiot. “I’m glad you made it. How was the elevator? Smooth ride?”
She shrugs as she takes a step forward, and I move aside to let her in. “It was slow. But not as slow as taking the stairs would’ve been.”
She smells like my favorite honey and vanilla scent, and when I put my hand on the small of her back, I can feel the warmth of her skin through her dress.
“Do you want something to drink?” I offer, ushering her deeper inside. “Manhattan?”
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
She follows me to the kitchen, and I’m aware of the way she surreptitiously checks out my place as I mix our drinks. Then I lead her into the living room, where the floor to ceiling windows showcase a view of the city with the mountains in the distance.
As we settle onto the couch, I realize my heart is racing. Usually, I know exactly what to say, but I feel like a fucking teenager right now, tongue-tied and awkward. I’ve got the most beautiful woman in the world in my condo, and part of me can’t fucking believe that this is real.
We both take a sip of our drinks, and Margo smiles as she puts her glass down, her gray eyes soft and luminous.
“That was a pretty intense game,” she says. “I can’t believe the Titans didn’t even score a single goal.”
“Shutouts happen sometimes,” I tell her, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck. “The Titans have a bit of a weak defensive lineup this season, so it’s not a total surprise. Still, it’s a good feeling for us.”
“Are the rest of the guys out at the bar?” she asks, tucking her lip between her teeth. “They must’ve wanted to celebrate.”
“Yeah. They gave me a hard time about not going out with them, but I told them I had important plans.”
A look of slight concern crosses her face. “You didn’t tell them you were hanging out with me though, right?”
“No,” I reassure her quickly. “Don’t worry. I know you’ve got to consider your job, and I respect your boundaries. I wouldn’t tell anyone anything without talking to you first.”
The warmth of her smile makes my chest expand, but what hits me even harder than that is the trust in her eyes. I’ve worked hard to gain that trust, and I’ll keep working to prove I’m worthy of it. That I’m worth taking a risk on.
I open my mouth, about to make more random small talk about the game, but before I can start blathering like an idiot, Margo rises to her feet. She walks toward me, and my breath freezes in my chest when she reaches me and crawls onto my lap. Her dress rides up as she straddles me, and she rests her forearms on my shoulders, her fingertips sliding through my hair and making me shiver.
“Noah?” she whispers.
“Yeah?” My voice is a rasp.
“Take me to bed.”
Her words light my blood on fire, and she doesn’t have to ask twice.
Scooping her up into my arms, I rise from the couch and carry her down the hall to my bedroom.
