She shrugged. “I didn’t press them on the move. I wanted to look like the best and most flexible candidate. And who knows if I even have the job.” She wanted this job, especially after the shit Betsy had pulled on her today. She needed to get out.
“When they offer it to you, ask how serious they are about you moving. They could be flexible.”
“Or it won’t matter because I won’t get the job.”
“Oh, you’ll get it,” Penny said, grinning.
“Lucky charm and psychic? Your powers never cease to amaze me,” she teased.
“Shut up and let’s cheer on our boys. They need this win. Lucky charm or not.”
Amanda settled back in her seat. Maybe they would let her stay in San Francisco. Maybe Ben would confess how much he loved her. And maybe she was starting to believe in fairytales.
“Keep on him. Keep on him,” Ben yelled out to Dom on the ice, before taking in a deep breath. He’d just come off the ice and was gassed. They were halfway through a penalty kill, and Dom was tangled up with Edmonton’s top forward for the puck. The Strikers were up three to one at the start of the third, and all of his teammates could taste the win. Ben just hoped to hell they didn’t get cocky and blow it. The player that Dom was battling with was too close to the Strikers’ net.
It didn’t matter that it was only the first game of the series. Edmonton had been on fire all season, and the Strikers hadn’t been able to find a way to beat them during the regular season. That had to change tonight. Chasing Edmonton would not end well. His team was playing strong tonight, but if they lost their footing and Edmonton caught up…
He paused and shook his head, focusing on the ice.
“Get it out of there,” Harty yelled next to Ben on the bench. “Fuck, we need this cleared out. It’s like that guy breathes near the net and ends up scoring,” he said with a grimace.
“No shit,” Ben mumbled, before yelling out again, “Come on, boys. Let’s go!”
Dom snagged the puck, finally knocking it free and passed it to Baz, who sent it flying down the ice, clearing it out of their zone. Dom went after it. Getting a short-handed goal right now would be perfect, but one of Edmonton’s forwards snagged it and brought it back toward Gally.
The puck banged off the pipes as Gally’s arm went up. A few inches lower and it would’ve been a goal. Ben scooted down the bench, his eyes darting between the penalty kill clock and his teammates. Twenty seconds left. Then ten. Edmonton’s goalie banged his stick on the ice, alerting his teammates to the dwindling clock, but the Strikers held on and killed it. Millsy exited the penalty box and entered the fray.
It’d been a bullshit penalty. Not that Millsy hadn’t slashed one of Edmonton’s forwards, but the other guy had tangled up with Millsy first. And only Millsy had ended up in the box. At least they’d killed the penalty and were back at full strength.
“Get out there and get one in,” Bugsy called out as they did a line change, and Ben and Harty jumped over the boards and onto the ice.
Harty grinned at Ben. “You heard the man,” he said, heading toward the puck Edmonton now had since Baz had dumped it in order to get fresh legs on the ice.
But Edmonton’s star forward grabbed the puck first and headed down toward Gally. The Strikers’ defensemen weren’t in the right spots. Fuck. That’d been a bad change. As the goal horn sounded, Ben bit back another curse. They couldn’t let Edmonton tie it up. But fifteen minutes was a long time, so when Edmonton ended up in the penalty box and Dom scored during the power play, Ben threw up a silent prayer of relief. A two-point lead was good. Three would be better. One meant every move was scrutinized.
And then Edmonton’s top scorer dumped it in the back of the net again. Shit. He glanced at the bench. Bugsy was pissed and yelling at the guys, pointing at the white board the assistant coach held, and then back toward Gally. Three goals in under two minutes was rare and only good if your team was the one getting all of them in.
He looked across the rink, spotting Amanda. She was yelling along with the crowd. “We want the Cup. We want the Cup.”
Well, no shit. He wanted it a hell of a lot more. It was almost as bad as them shouting “shoot it.” He tuned out the crowd and slid onto the bench, waiting for the TV timeout to end. Bugsy yelled for them to get their heads out of their asses and play like they had in the last game against Calgary last week.
“We can do this, guys. Hold the lead. Aim for their goalie’s blocker side. He’s been slow to get it up in the last period. If we hit the pipe, we hit the pipe. Just keep going,” Ben said, grinning as his teammates nodded at him. Bugsy patted him on the helmet.
“You heard your captain. Now get out there. Keep their captain away from Gally. That kid has a shot that I haven’t seen in a long time, and I’d like to stop seeing it tonight,” Bugsy chimed in.
***
They managed to hold Edmonton back for the final twelve minutes, and when the game ending buzzer sounded, the guys flooded the ice, back slaps all around. It’d been a hard-fought game. They would all be like that, probably worse, as they inched closer to their goal. People didn’t call it the hardest fought trophy for nothing. It was a grueling pace, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The guys raised their sticks to the crowd as the arena shook with cheers, and then headed down the tunnel. He skated around the perimeter of the ice and stopped in front of Amanda.
“You were awesome,” she said through the glass, her cheeks pink, her eyes twinkling. “But I still have my hat, Cheese.”
He barked out a laugh. “You know that I’m not known for hatties, right? It could be a long time before you see another one. Your hat is going to be safe for a while.”
“You never know. I predict the next game,” she said, grinning.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Keep your phone on you. I’ll text when I’m on my way up,” he said. At least he wasn’t one of the stars of the game. One less interview he’d have to do.
He was going to take the fastest shower on record. Too bad he couldn’t sneak out before giving the requisite sound bite. He wanted Amanda. At home. In his arms. Hopefully without clothes. Although he should probably tell her he loved her before they stripped down. Would she say it back? He refused to believe that what they had wasn’t love. He wanted her every second of every day, and not just beneath him.
He wanted to talk to her about anything and everything. He wanted to experience all the vacation spots she could think of. Not that he had any plans to bungee jump off bridges with her. He had to draw the line of common sense somewhere.
He shook his head and laughed. He’d probably jump off a bridge for her—as long as they were tied together.
Watching her in the stands, screaming her head off, hat clutched in her hand that he knew she ached to toss over the glass, turned him on more than it should. But it also squeezed his heart. He wished his mom was here to see how happy he was. That he’d found that one person to share what his parents had.
Fuck. He was getting way too sentimental for the end of a hockey game. He breezed through his shower and made a beeline for the dressing room to grab his phone. He wanted her standing in front of him now, so he could kiss the hell out of her and then take her home. He couldn’t wait to continue whatever adventure she had in store for him.
Chapter 23
Hiking along the rugged Costa Brava in Spain. So many stairs! But I huffed, and I puffed, and the views were worth it. Now to find some carbs to replenish what I’ve worked off.
~ Adventurous Amanda, April 2015
“I want to run into that locker room and kiss the hell out of him,” Penny said. The game was over and the raucous arena had quieted down as fans streamed out of the building.
“Can we do that?” Amanda asked, itching to wrap her arms around Ben. She couldn’t care less if he was dripping in sweat. It was victory sweat. Okay, that was a little gross.
They’d won their first game in the second round. Every win would get them closer
to the Cup. They’d had problems with Edmonton over the regular season, so Amanda wanted a sweep in four.
“Okay. Maybe not the locker rooms, but we can head down there,” Penny said, waving her family pass. An identical one hung from Amanda’s neck. Ben made sure she had it every time she came to a game. It was easier to get to him when she already had clearance. Not that she’d snuck back to the locker room during games. As tempting as that was, Ben would probably have a heart attack if she tried to ambush him in the locker room.
Hell. That idea was sounding better and better.
“Do I want to know why you’re smirking right now?” Penny asked.
Amanda bit back a laugh. How many times had Penny thought about the exact same thing? And then her friend’s cheeks pinked. Probably more than once.
“Have you and Ethan ever snuck into the locker or dressing rooms when no one was around?”
Penny’s cheeks flared brighter than Amanda thought possible. “Maybe once.”
“Penny,” Amanda admonished as a sense of pride washed over her.
“I mean. It was really late after a game. No one was around. And we didn’t have sex. Just made out. A lot.”
“I’m impressed and jealous.”
Penny playfully punched her in the shoulder. “Stop it. And don’t you dare tell anyone I told you. I’m the CPA for at least six of Ethan’s teammates. It would be totally unprofessional if they knew what Ethan and I had done in there.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Amanda said, linking her arm through Penny’s as they headed to the family lounge. “How about we just wait for the guys here? I wouldn’t want to get too close to the locker room in case your need for Ethan overpowers your common sense. Especially since he got the game-winning goal. Bet you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself.”
Penny pulled back and glared at her. “So not funny. I never should’ve told you,” she said, shaking her head, and if Amanda wasn’t wrong, Penny’s shoulders were shaking a little, too. She was so amazed at her friend. Not just for getting it on in a locker room, but for how far the quiet Penny had come since she’d met Ethan.
They walked into the family lounge and were met with cheers.
“Glad to see the lucky charm is still working,” Klara called out, her kids running around.
“Isn’t she usually asleep by now?” Penny asked as Elin stopped next to her mother and grinned up at them.
“Alexander woke her up with his cheers,” she said, glaring affectionately at her son, who had no shame as he whooped around the room.
Penny held her hands out, and Elin went right to her, pulling on Penny’s curls when she picked the little girl up.
“Good luck,” the little girl said, and Klara and Penny laughed.
“I’m not really a good luck charm. Sometimes they lose when I’m here,” Penny said.
“But most of the time they win,” Klara said. “Don’t fight the superstitions. I’m surprised they don’t have you in the locker room during their intermission pep talks.”
Amanda couldn’t stop her snort of laughter as Penny blushed harder.
“What?” Klara asked.
“Oh nothing. I’m just so happy they won. It’ll put all of them in a good mood for the next game.”
“Yes. In a good mood,” Klara said, her cheeks pinking.
Amanda continued to laugh, but she couldn’t disagree. She wanted Ben to hurry up and get his ass up here so they could head home.
Her phone dinged, and she swiped it on, grinning when she saw the text. Could he read her thoughts?
Ben: Meet me outside the locker room in twenty. Are you okay with not going out with the guys?
Amanda: Yes. We can celebrate at home.
Ben: Your place or mine.
Amanda: Obviously yours. My mother is still threatening to make you pancakes.
Ben: Maybe I’m interested in her pancakes.
Amanda: I’m not sure why, but that sounds so wrong. She followed it up with a concerned emoticon.
Ben: LOL. That’s definitely not what I meant. Your mind sometimes…
Amanda: Oh, shut up. Now hurry up with your shower and those sound bites. I have plans for you tonight.
Ben: I wish they’d just let Harty do all the interviews. See you soon.
Amanda: You’re getting better. I’ve been watching. Your answers may still be standard, but they no longer sound canned.
Ben: I’m working on it.
Amanda: I know.
Ben: You could come up now, and give me pointers on my progress.
Amanda: I’m on my way. And how are you texting? Aren’t cell phones not allowed in the locker room?
Ben: I may have snuck into the dressing room and grabbed mine. I wanted to talk to you.
Amanda: Well, stop stalling and finish your interviews so we can do more than talk. At home. Where clothes aren’t required. Hell. They should be banned.
She ended it with a winky emoticon blowing a kiss.
Ben: And there goes my concentration. I love that you think of my place as home. Now get down here.
“Why are you grinning like a loon?” Penny asked, peeking over Amanda’s shoulder to see the final few texts. Amanda held the phone to her chest hoping she didn’t boob facetime him right before he gave his interviews, although that would be hysterical.
She shook her head and glared at her friend. “I’m not grinning like a loon. I’m just happy.”
“I know. It’s awesome. And about damn time. You should tell him you love him tonight. And about the interview.”
“Just leave it, Penny. And I’m waiting for him to tell me he loves me first.”
“He does love you, even if he hasn’t said it yet. He’s just shy, and you’re stubborn. Just tell him.”
“Maybe. But right now he said to come down. He’s finishing up his interviews and then we are heading home.” She loved calling his house home as much as he liked hearing it.
“I’ll join you. They always get interviewed together, or one right after the other, so Ethan should be done soon, too.”
They said good night to Klara and the other women scattered through the room, and headed downstairs. Security recognized them and waved them through. A small cluster of reporters waited outside of the locker room. It’s a much smaller crowd, so the guys must be finishing up.
“Isn’t that Ann?” Penny said, pointing to a woman standing along the fringes of the group of reporters.
“Yes. But that doesn’t make sense. She’d need a press pass to get down here, and we don’t cover sports at the magazine,” Amanda pondered as they approached.
Ann turned around right before Amanda went to tap the woman on the shoulder.
“Oh, hi Amanda. Penny,” Ann nodded at Penny. They’d met briefly during the first intermission for a drink. Ann hadn’t mentioned anything about talking to the team after the game.
“Hi. What are you doing down here?” Amanda asked, and gestured to the press pass that hung around Ann’s neck.
“I wanted to see the players. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a game, and I know a few of the guys on the team. I borrowed my friend’s press pass,” she whispered, her grin almost maniacal, which made no sense.
“Okay. I could’ve introduced you to the guys if you wanted. Do you know Ben?” Amanda asked.
“You could say that,” Ann replied, and her grin widened.
“What. The. Actual. Fuck,” Ben’s voice vibrated along the walls, and Amanda turned to see him glaring at them. At her specifically.
She sputtered in shock. She’d never seen him that pissed before. Even when the bunnies had invaded the club.
“How do you know her?” Ben asked, pointing at Tara and trying to rein in the swirling shit show of emotions that currently had a hold on him. He ignored the remaining reporters, and his teammates, who looked at him in shock. He’d never cursed in front of the media, no matter how frustrated he was with their incessant and repetitive questions.
“What is wron
g with you?” Amanda asked, her eyes wide. No doubt because she’d been caught. How could he have been so wrong again?
“How. Do. You. Know. Her?” he bit out.
“Who? Ann?” Amanda asked, her gaze darting between him and the woman he’d hoped he’d never have to see again.
“Who the hell is Ann? That is Tara,” he said, his voice hard. How was this even possible? And why did his ex look way too chummy with his girlfriend? What the fuck was she doing here? And with Amanda? Tara smirked at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of anger and triumph.
He knew that one day they’d run into each other. But he didn’t expect her to be standing with the woman he loved when they did. And they looked—friendly. This was not happening. He’d provided his sound bite and all he wanted to do was take Amanda home with him. And this—did he even know who she was? Was his character judgment that awful?
“Tara?” Amanda sputtered, her gaze darting again between him and his ex, who at that moment, wrapped her arm around Amanda’s shoulder.
Amanda stiffened and pulled free, taking a step back.
“Hi, Ben. It’s been a long time.” Then she turned to Amanda. “It’s okay. You don’t have to lie to him. You know who I am. Tara Ann.”
“What are you talking about?” Amanda said, confusion in her eyes, and Ben’s heart started to splinter.
“I work with Amanda. We are both editorial assistants at San Francisco Life. And we’re great friends,” Tara said like they were just having a polite and friendly conversation. “Does that bother you, Ben?” Tara smirk was replaced with a saccharine smile.
“So you two work together and are friends? How long has this been going on? How long have you both been playing me?” he ground out, his jaw clenched. Pain bloomed in his chest. Was this what he got for finally trusting another woman?
“Are you insane? We are—I am—not playing you. I had no idea who she was. I’ve only known her as Ann. She never mentioned knowing you,” Amanda gasped, her gaze frantic as she looked at him. Did she look guilty?
“Why should I believe that? It all makes perfect sense now.”
Skating the Line (San Francisco Strikers Book 2) Page 24
