Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79328 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I was starting to realize I was attracted to a lot of things about this woman.
Just sitting next to her was a distraction from the game, and for once, I didn’t mind. My decision to stop fighting my feelings had been liberating in the best possible way. Instead of constantly suppressing my attraction and constantly reminding myself why wanting her was inappropriate, I could simply… enjoy being near her and notice the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused. Appreciate the curve of her smile when something delighted her. Let my gaze linger without immediately forcing it away.
I knew getting involved with my employee was a risk, not to mention my best friend’s sister. A significant one. But my desire for her had grown larger than the potential consequences, and that alone told me something important.
I didn’t take risks like this. Ever. In business, I was calculated. Methodical. I weighed every decision against potential outcomes, never moved forward without a clear understanding of what I stood to gain or lose. It was how I’d built my success. Careful strategy over reckless impulse.
But Raina made me want to throw caution aside. Made me willing to accept whatever fallout might come, just for the chance to be closer to her.
That should have terrified me. Instead, it felt inevitable.
“Go, go, go!” Raina shouted, and my head snapped forward to see what had claimed her attention.
The puck was a black blur, passed rapidly between players as the Lynx pushed toward the opposing net. They had possession, and they were making a desperate final attempt to break the tie before time expired.
Miles was directly in front of us when the puck came his way. He pivoted hard, his blades sending a spray of ice hissing against the glass inches from my face.
Both Raina and I leapt to our feet, my own pulse quickening as I tracked the play, breath held as Miles drove toward the goal. His teammates moved like a well-oiled machine, blocking the defensemen who tried to intercept. The rink was chaos—bodies colliding, sticks clashing—but I kept my focus locked on Miles.
The clock on the jumbotron showed five seconds remaining. The air itself seemed to compress. My eyes burned because I didn’t want to blink or miss even a fraction of a second of the game. Miles stopped in front of the net, the opposing team closing in fast. There was no time for hesitation. He drew back his stick and swung.
The crack of impact cut through the roar of the crowd. Or maybe it was just so vivid in my mind that it drowned out everything else. The puck launched into the air, a dark streak moving almost too fast to follow. It rose toward the top left corner of the net. The goalie lunged, his gloved hand stretching desperately—
Not fast enough. The puck sailed past him and buried itself in the back of the net. For one breathless second, the entire arena seemed to gasp as one.
Then it erupted in cheers.
I shouted along with everyone else. Beside me, Raina was clapping and bouncing on the balls of her feet, her face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy.
When she turned and spontaneously threw her arms around my neck, I didn’t hesitate. I lifted her off her feet, my arms wrapping around her waist like they belonged there. She was warm and solid against me, laughing into my shoulder, and for that moment, nothing else existed. Not the crowd, not the game, not the complicated reality waiting for us outside these walls. Just her in my arms, exactly where she fit.
A violent rattling against the glass made us both turn. Three Lynx players had slammed themselves against the boards directly in front of us, celebrating with the wild abandon of men who’d just pulled off the impossible.
Raina laughed—bright and unrestrained—and I found myself joining her, the sound surprising me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like this, but it felt good.
After the players finished their interviews and showered, Miles met us outside the locker room. I’d encountered him a few times before at games with Kurt, so introductions weren’t necessary. He invited us to join him and a few teammates for dinner, and Raina’s eager expression made my decision easy. Besides, who would turn down the chance to spend an evening with the men you cheered for every week during hockey season?
The restaurant Miles chose was a low-key place with a private room in the back. A smart call, because even walking through the main dining area drew stares. The Lynx were celebrities in this city. Last year’s Stanley Cup victory had generated endless media coverage, and I’d heard Miles mention how the fame was a double-edged sword. Lucrative sponsorship deals on one hand; zero peace in public on the other.