Daddy Next Door - The Complete Series Box Set (A Single Dad Navy SEAL Romance)
Page 122
Johnny went with a different tactic; instead of trying to overwhelm the goalie, he moved more subtly, shifting and feinting, moving the puck around on the ice without even seeming to. Even I was mesmerized, watching him move from the center to the net. By the time Johnny made his shot, the goalie was utterly confused and transfixed by what he had seen. The crowd erupted — cheers on our side, groans on the other side.
“I wish they’d get it over with before you crush my hand,” Georgia said jokingly. I glanced at her; she gestured with her other hand that she was fine, that it was a joke. I eased up anyway.
It was nearly over — one way or the other. As the other player missed, everyone knew Johnny would have to make the last shot count to win. I sat back down, tapping my foot on the floor, wanting nothing more than for everyone to just shut up and let Johnny take his last shot and let us all know what the outcome was going to be. But everyone was more excited than ever, which I could understand — so was I. I took a deep breath and watched as Johnny moved to center ice for the final time.
He was somehow combining his two previous tactics, using both speed and subtlety. I couldn’t even tell where the puck was half the time as Johnny blazed down the ice towards the goalie. I couldn’t believe that the goalie had any clue, either, in spite of trying as hard as he could to watch the movements. There was just too much to see. Finally, Johnny was in the crease and he was shooting the puck — and the goalie had no idea where to grab for it. It hit the net and I sagged against Georgia as the siren announcing a successful shot rang out over the ice.
The roar of the crowd was so loud that I was sure I was going to go deaf. I watched as the winning team streamed out onto the ice, cheering and screaming, happy as they could possibly be at what Johnny had helped them accomplish. I couldn’t blame them for being happy — or for lifting Johnny up on their shoulders and carrying him around as the MVP. Georgia’s comments about my status to that title notwithstanding, Johnny was an important leader on the team, and it was obvious that when he was having an off night, the team suffered; when he was on top of it, the team was, too.
Someone presented the team with the trophy and Johnny and another player hoisted it into the air, displaying it proudly to us all. The other team had tactfully retreated to lick their wounds and sigh about what could have happened if they had just pressed their advantage or at least kept their lead. I smiled and laughed, watching the team cavorting around, obviously drunk with pleasure at their success. Someone put a microphone in Johnny’s hands and asked him about the game — what he thought, who he credited with the win, the kinds of things that always get asked for athletes when they succeed. “It was a rough game, especially in the first two periods, but I have a lot of people to thank for this win,” Johnny said, grinning around at everyone. “Of course, I have to thank my team. Without the team, none of us is anything. We certainly couldn’t pull it off one-handed.” I was starting to think of just how much I wanted Johnny to myself again. Maybe I can convince him to hang around and take his shower late, so we’ll be all alone…I was thinking when he met my gaze. “I also have to thank the love of my life, the woman who has shown that she will go through anything with me, that she loves me and is there for me, my girlfriend Becky.”
The crowd predictably went wild, but as Johnny and I held each other’s gazes, neither of us was even remotely thinking about the crowd. We were thinking about each other and about what was to come, now that we had finally put the ghosts of the past to rest.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams