“Ten more seconds!” I shout over the loud clap of the weighted ropes hitting the floor. Over and over, Scarlett throws them in the air before bringing them back down again.
Her shoulder is doing phenomenally well. It won’t ever be back to what it is, but after the past eight weeks of physiotherapy, I think she’s almost as good as she’ll ever be again.
The ropes she’s lifting aren’t the weight she’s used to—far from it, really—but I think she’s just happy to be doing something different today. Something that is a testament to how hard she’s worked to heal and how far she’s come.
Sweat drips from her face and is soaked through her tank top, leaving a wet patch beneath the neckline. There’s almost a hint of a smile on her face that has me beaming with pride.
“Good! Drop ’em.”
They fall to the floor. She tosses her head back and takes long inhales. “How did I do?”
“Perfectly, Scar. You were perfect. You’ve come so far since we started.”
She smiles, pushing the matted pieces of hair off her forehead that have escaped her bun. “I had help.”
“No, that was all you. I just stood here and barked orders.”
“Just take the compliment, Adam. I don’t give them away often.”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes that hits me deep. “If you insist. Thank you.”
She nods, then starts to chew on her lip, looking lost in thought. It’s only a moment later when she blurts, “I want to go on the ice.”
“Okay. I can unlock it for you.”
“No. I mean with you. I want to . . . I don’t know. Maybe we could shoot a couple pucks around or something. I really fucking miss it, Adam. I want to do more than just stand there and watch. I want to grip a stick in my hand and line up a shot before I forget what it feels like,” she rambles, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I’m ready.”
Fuck. Watching her overcome a hurdle that’s burdened her since her injury might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I want to storm across the room and kiss the rest of her doubt away.
“You will never forget that feeling because I won’t let you. Hell, you won’t let yourself, and this only proves that. If you want to play a one v. one game out there, we’ll play a one v. one. If you want me to stand in front of the net and pretend I have any goalie talent whatsoever, I can do that for you too. Anything, Scarlett. I can get Brie to open the arena, and we can stay on the ice all day if you want.”
She blinks rapidly. “You’re serious?”
“Of course I am. Get your skates, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Great, yeah. I’ll be quick.”
My mouth quirks as I take backward steps to the door, watching her grow more flustered the longer we look at each other. Once I’m in the doorway, I wink. “See you soon.”
I’m bending the blade of my stick over my thigh when the rink doors slam shut. I whip my head around to see Scarlett walking toward the opening in the boards, her custom black-and-yellow skates on and a stick fairly similar to mine in her hand.
“Is yellow your favourite colour?” I ask, staring curiously at the yellow tape wrapped around the top section of her stick.
She simply stares at me, unimpressed. “Were you expecting it to be black?”
“I mean, now that you mention it.” I smirk.
“You’re hilarious,” she deadpans.
She sets the blade of her stick to the ice and leans to the side. Her eyes flick to the fresh tape on my stick. “Is red your favourite colour, then?”
“It is as of late.”
“Why?” She narrows her eyes, almost as if my answer offended her.
A smile parts my lips. “Isn’t it obvious?”
She shakes her head.
“Because, Scarlett. It reminds me of you.”
“Oh,” she mumbles, her chest flaring with the pinky-red colour I love.
I skate toward her, not stopping until our skates touch. Her blue eyes are wide as they stare into mine, both surprised and intrigued. I lift a hand and twirl a loose curl around my finger. It’s as smooth as silk and just as springy as I remember.
“You turn the perfect combination of red and pink whenever I touch you. It does things to me,” I admit. As if to prove my point, the tips of her ears flush. “Where else are you pink, Scarlett?”
Her breathing stutters, and she leans toward me. My stare drops to her lips while my hand moves to cup her cheek. I brush my thumb across her cheekbone.
“I want to kiss you again. But I won’t.”
“Why not?”
I bend my head and bump her nose with mine. “Because when I do, I’m not going to stop. And you’re not ready for that.”
With that, I pull back and slowly skate a safe distance away from her. She doesn’t move from the place she stands, and I use the break to pull myself back together.
I told her I was patient, and I’m willing to be. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t killing me not to have her already. I’ve long since accepted that the way I feel about her isn’t going anywhere. On the contrary, it’s only getting stronger every day. There’s no point in fighting it anymore.
I’m hers for the taking. All I can do now is hope that she doesn’t leave me out to dry.
It’s a risk bringing her into my life, but what Gracie said to me on the phone really stuck. I’ve put my personal life on the back burner for ten years now. Cooper is not only my son but my biggest cheerleader, and if he’s okay with this and the risk it brings, then I should at least try to be too.
He’s already begun to grow a bond with her through his own meddling, and knowing he likes her and wants her to reciprocate those feelings for me is a bit of comfort in this wild unknown.
“I’m going to dinner after tonight’s playoff game with Leo,” Scarlett says from behind me. My shoulders tense as a prickly feeling comes to life in my stomach. Jealousy? “If I get more pucks in the net than you do, from let’s say, the blue line, would you come with me?”
I spin around and find her in the exact same position as earlier. “And if you don’t beat me?”
Her grin is wicked. “I will,” she states. The two simple words go straight to my cock as it hardens in my briefs.
“After you, then, Big Baller. Best of what? Fifteen?”
“Works for me.”
Scarlett skates around me and grabs the bucket of pucks we usually keep off to the side of the ice by the handle before bringing it over. Dropping the bucket in front of me, she kicks it over and begins to separate them into two piles with her stick.
Once there are two piles of fifteen pucks, I take a few glides back, making room for her to line herself up. She pulls a puck from the pile and moves it back and forth across the ice a few times before stilling it.
I watch, nearly in awe, as she wraps her fingers around her stick and, in one swift movement, pulls it back and swings it forward, slapping it against the puck.
She sends it flying, and a second later, it sinks into the centre of the netting. A huff escapes her.
“That’s not where I was aiming.”
I turn to her in disbelief. “Dead centre isn’t good enough?”
“No,” she says before collecting another puck and taking another shot, this time swapping her slapshot for a wrist shot.
Again, her form is perfection. She snaps the shot, and the puck hits the top left corner of the netting.
“Better,” she notes.
“I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong.”
She peeks at me over her shoulder, brows raised. “Are you a puck bunny, Adam?”
I grin. “When it comes to you, I think I could be just about anything. But Adam the Puck Bunny does have a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Sure.” She takes another shot and sinks her fourth puck. “Maybe I’ll make you a custom cup with your new nickname on it to replace the one you made for me.”
“You found it?” I had that cup made weeks ago. It’s about time. “Is it still in one piece?”
She shoots two more pucks into the net. “I debated throwing it into traffic, but the road to get here isn’t busy enough. I would have been standing in the ditch for hours.”
A brash laugh escapes me, echoing off the walls. Scarlett gifts me another one of those rare, wide grins, and it pierces my chest.
She looks ahead of her again before lining up and sending off the remaining pucks. All but one makes it inside, and even though I knew I wouldn’t win when I agreed to this bet, the alpha inside of me is a bit grouchy knowing he’s going to lose.
“Ready?” she asks me, a hint of something mischievous in her tone.
I skate up beside her and lean in, kissing her cheek. “I think so.” Gripping my stick, I turn to the side and grab a puck. “What time is dinner? I have to see who can watch Coop for me, even though he’ll probably ask to go home with Maddox after school anyway.”
“Eight,” she says. I nod while winding up my first shot and slapping the puck at the net. When it pings off the top bar and scatters off the boards, Scarlett snorts. “Cooper and Maddox seem pretty close.”
“They’re the closest in age. If we’re going to get into specifics, the entire group is very close, but the Hutton clan are the closest thing to family we have. We spent a lot of time with them when Cooper was really young.”
Two more shots. Two goals.
I can feel her curiosity from where she stands behind me.
“You’re not close with your parents?” she asks.
My next shot is harder than the others and completely misses the net. “No. We’re very different people.”
“They’re grumpy? Rude? Glass half-empty types?”
I turn to her and release a breath. She’s staring at me like she wants me to cut myself open and bleed every single one of my secrets out on the ice for her. Little does she know all she’d have to do is hand me a knife.
“All of the above with a sprinkle of unsupportive and a dash of stuck-up.”
She winces. “Yeah, that would do it.”
“They’re not a part of my life anymore. Cooper deserves better.”
“So do you,” she says, her voice so soft I barely hear it. I hold myself back from closing the distance between us and pulling her in my arms. “Some people don’t deserve the time of day, and from what you’ve told me, it sounds like they’re those people. The sun’s too bright to be cast out by gloomy storm clouds.”
My heart thumps against my rib cage. “Are you calling me the sun, Scarlett?”
She rolls her eyes, but the action does little to hide the warmth in them.
“Yeah, Adam. You’re the damn sun.”
