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Cursing softly, he left the locker room and headed down the hallway leading out to the Warriors bench. As he entered the arena, the deafening cheers of the crowd assaulted his eardrums. The Lincoln Center was filled to capacity tonight, the bleachers a sea of silver and blue. Seeing the fans supporting the team by donning their jersey warmed Brody’s heart, but it also renewed his anger.
All these fans who’d come out here tonight—the people yelling words of encouragement, the kids clapping their hands wildly—deserved a team they could be proud of.
Unfortunately, there was very little to feel proud about, especially when ten minutes into the first period the Warriors were already down by two goals.
And it was one of those games that went from bad to worse. The Vipers cleaned the ice with the Warriors. By the second period, Brody was drenched in sweat, gasping for air and wanting to bodycheck everyone from the ref to his coach. It didn’t even seem to matter how fast they skated, how many times they rushed the net, how many bullets they slapped at the Vipers’ goalie. The opposing team was faster, sharper, better. They had the advantage of good morale on their side.
When the third period rolled around, Brody could tell most of his teammates had given up.
“This game blows,” Becker sighed once they’d sunk down onto the bench after a line change.
Brody squirted a stream of water into his mouth then tossed the bottle aside. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.
“So did you take the advice I gave you?” Becker asked, his eyes still on the game in front of them.
“Advice?”
“About staying away from Presley’s daughter,” Becker reminded him.
Stay away from Hayden? Brody almost laughed out loud. He was tempted to tell his friend that at the moment he was doing everything in his power to stay close to her. And he was succeeding. For the most part, anyway.
No matter how often Hayden called their relationship a fling, Brody couldn’t view anything between them as casual. For the first time in his life, he was with a woman he actually liked hanging out with. Sure, he liked the sex, too—fine, he loved the sex—but there had been moments during the past week when he was shocked to realize there were other things he enjoyed just as much. Such as watching art documentaries with her. Holding her while she slept. Teaching her to ice-skate even though she wasn’t much of a student.
She was funny and smart and her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. And it troubled him how that light left her eyes whenever an away game came up. He’d had to leave town three times this week, and although Hayden never said a single word about it, he could tell it bothered her. But he had no idea how to make it better, short of retiring from hockey—and he wasn’t about to do that.
Yet he had to do something. Hayden seemed determined to keep him at a distance, at least when it came to admitting they were in a relationship, and he desperately wanted to bridge that gap, make her realize just how important she was becoming to him.
“Are you even listening to me?” Becker’s loud sigh drew him out of his thoughts.
Brody lifted his head. “Huh? Oh, right, Pres’s daughter. About that…As much as I value your advice, I…I can’t stay away from her, man.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I’m seeing her tonight, in fact.”
Becker frowned, but before he could respond, the ref’s whistle pierced the air and both men looked over to see who’d taken a penalty. Wyatt. Big surprise there.
There was no more time for chatting as Stan tossed them both back onto the ice for the penalty kill, and although Becker scored a ridiculously incredible shorthanded goal, it wasn’t enough. The buzzer went off indicating the end of the third period and the game. The final score was a pathetic 5–1, Vipers.
IT DIDN’T TAKE a genius to figure out the Warriors had lost the game. Hayden could see it on every face that left the Lincoln Center. Her father was probably dreadfully disappointed.
She was tempted to go up to the owner’s box and offer some sort of condolences, but she was in no mood to see her dad right now. If she were, she’d be inside the arena instead of loitering in the parking lot and waiting for Brody.
She leaned against the back of his SUV and scanned the rear entrance of the building, willing him to come out. God, this day had been hell. Listening to Sheila’s awful tale of Presley’s drinking, hearing Doug’s heart break on the other end of the telephone line. She didn’t want to think about any of it anymore. That’s why she’d left the penthouse and driven over here. The need to see Brody and lose herself in his arms was so strong she’d been willing to wait for over an hour.