Edge(13)

He looked at Tanner but gave a single, low note of laughter. “Don’t go there, man. She’s hands off in so many ways. Find someone else.”

Tanner started sketching out a play on his dry erase board and I turned my attention to him. But my mind was still on Dell. This explained her deep knowledge of the game, and why a beautiful woman would opt to become a hockey trainer. She’d been born into it.

I knew the feeling. Playing hockey had never been a choice for me. My dad had made the choice and molded me into the player I was. I’d grown to love the game, but every time I played, it was with the knowledge that he was watching – and judging.

I sighed and tried to focus on the play we were about to run through. Pissing Tanner Welch off would be a headache. But pissing Butch Price off would be a catastrophe. He had clout and a reputation as a ruthless asshole who stopped at nothing to get his way.

Dell surely knew that. And she probably kept men at arms’ length to protect them as much as herself. My gaze wandered over to her, and our eyes locked. A hot surge ran through me as I realized she’d been watching me. It should’ve unnerved me. But fuck if it didn’t do just the opposite.





Chapter 3


Dell





Luke flew past me, eyes darting around the rink to check other players’ positions out of habit. He was alone, and I was enjoying the view. Not just because he had an amazing body, but because he was such a skilled player. He handled the puck with polish and was incredibly fast for a man his size. I could see why he was being considered for the Olympic team. His skills rivaled those of the best players I’d ever seen play the game.

“Move, lazy bones!” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth. “My grandma could get to the net faster than you!” My teasing in our late-night practice sessions never rattled him, but I enjoyed it all the same.

He slid to a stop next to me. “So motivate me, Coach. What would I have to do to convince you to have dinner with me?”

My cheeks warmed instantly. I’d figured he wouldn’t ask again. “There’s only one thing,” I said, arching my brows.

“Name it.”

“Light the lamp.”

He grinned at me, his perfect white smile making my heart beat erratically. “I score in our next game, and you’ll have dinner with me?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and looked at the goal. “Okay.”

It was nothing – probably a sandwich at the deli down the street before we met to practice some night. So why was I already excited about the game tomorrow night? The thought that dinner with me was a reward for him made me hot in places other than my cheeks.

This was what charming guys could do. They could wind their way into your heart and mind and make you into a mushy, tongue-tied mess. I’d been there and done that.

But since meeting Luke, I’d realized something for the first time. I was lonely, dammit. And he reached a place deeper in me than anyone ever had. It was scary, but at the same time, too exhilarating to deny. I wasn’t banned from being friends with a player. And friends could have dinner.

“Let’s get to work,” Luke said, tugging my ponytail playfully.

“Right.”

He was about to skate off when he turned to look back at me. “So do you want me to score tomorrow night?”

“Of course I do.”

His cocky grin threw me off balance. “Because you want to have dinner with me.”

I tried to laugh it off, but I knew my fair skin was betraying my embarrassment. “Because I want us to win, Luke. Go channel that swagger into your game.”

For a second I thought he was going to skate back to me. I imagined him shoving me against the wall and kissing me hard. But he went back to practicing instead.

With a sigh, I reached for my stick and skated out to help. We’d be having dinner. Maybe. It was as close as I’d been to sex in years. Which was sad, since it wasn’t close to sex at all. It was dinner. But I relished the idea of a conversation with Luke outside of the rink. It was alone time, and if he scored, it would definitely be a win for me, whether the team came out on top or not.

***



Luke





The smooth, perfect curves of Dell’s lower half were on full display in a pair of form-fitted black yoga pants. Where the hell were her baggy sweats?

“Can you massage my groin?” Matt Vanderschmidt asked Dell. I glared at him, but his gaze was fixed on her. It was close to ice time, but she dropped down to her knees in front of him on the locker room bench and did her best. I turned away, repelled by the sight of her hands in another guy’s crotch, even if it wasn’t sexual.

She finished and we all rose for Tanner’s final pep talk before taking the ice. I stood in the back of the group and snuck over to the wall Dell stood against.