Page 29 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)
“No!” another scoffs. “He winked at me!”
“You’re both idiots, it was at me.”
Cindy sticks out her tongue next to me and we burst out chuckling. But my laughter dies as Grayson turns, revealing the jersey number 33.
Three.
My lucky number, and yet the one that drives me insane on a daily basis. My heart lurches, beating a thousand beats a minute as the team skates over to the home bench.
A large stocky player with blond hair and gray eyes steps onto the bench first, winking at Cindy. As he turns and sits on the bench, his last name and number come into view on his jersey.
O’Connor. 42.
Cindy sighs. “Nothing is sexier than a man playing hockey.”
I think of a million things that make men sexy to counteract that statement. A fireman uniform, the veins on men’s hands, how they lift their shirts to wipe the sweat away, gray sweatpants… The list continues to build in my mind until Grayson steps onto the home bench, smiling.
Perhaps Cindy is on to something.
Grayson is tall as it is, but with the skates and the gear, he looks like a giant. A giant my body apparently wants to climb.
I don’t realize we’ve been staring at one another for far too long until Cindy gasps, waving her hand in front of her face. “He is smitten.”
Grayson must read the words on her lips—there’s no way he can hear us over the roaring crowd—because his cheeks flush crimson.
“These are the best seats I’ve ever had,” one of the girls behind us says in awe.
“We could lick their sweat if we wanted to, we’re so close.”
Cindy and I face one another, mirroring each other’s looks of disgust. Leaning into her space, I lower my voice. “Are we in for these type of comments the entire night?”
“This is them just getting started.” She shakes her head. “Trust me, I’ve heard far worse.”
My body visibly shudders as I pull back. Grayson, apparently, watched the entire exchange.
Are you okay? he mouths.
Giving him a little dip of my head, I pointedly ignore the gasps behind me as they try to figure out what Grayson said to them .
G rayson is a beast to be reckoned with.
I could understand before why Cindy found Asher so attractive in his gear, but now seeing Grayson on the ice moving with such grace and yet such fierce strength, it takes my breath away.
Despite this being my father’s favorite sport and team, I never watched games growing up. He could never get me into it, but now my eyes are glued to Grayson.
Granted, they should be glued to the puck with how fast it travels.
I’m not sure why he was so worried this week, why he has been torturing himself with extra sessions, because he’s perfect. More than perfect. His talent shines on the ice.
Cindy has been explaining the game to me as it goes, along with the adorable story of Kieran and Grayson not only being childhood best friends but being drafted together on the same team. They call them the devil pair in the league, a force to be reckoned with as the starting line of forwards.
Kieran being left wing assists Grayson with a slap shot, making me scream like the girls behind Cindy and me. I’ve never heard such a deafening roar from a crowd before.
It’s infectious.
I’ve gone from not knowing what plays are or how the game operates to screaming my head off when Grayson assists one of Kieran’s fast-break goals.
Cindy and I jump up and down as Kieran does a victory lap from his score.
Grayson sails past, a dazzling smile spreading across his face as he sends another wink my way.
He’s been doing this all night, but my heartbeat still drums in my ears, my palms turn sweaty, and my cheeks ache from how much the motion makes me smile.
A squeal from behind grates along my ears.
“He did it again! Tash, he is absolutely asking for your number after the game.”
Cindy rolls her eyes. We’ve begun taking a sip of alcohol every time they mistake Grayson’s affections for them.
It’s happened so often I’m starting to feel a buzz, along with the need to turn around and tell them to stop, but that might just be the wine talking.
It’s the point like when you’re at a bar or a club and suddenly you want to tell everyone who bumps into you that they need to say excuse me.
The girls’ voices pull my focus toward them again.
“You think?” she says, not at all hiding the insincerity of the question.
Some part of me feels bad that she has the wrong impression, but the other half of me feels immeasurable irritation, and I don’t want to look too far into why I am. Instead, I cheers Cindy, mirroring her giggle as we drink.
“You could be the one to heal him,” the girl states.
The drink in my mouth explodes across the plexiglass in front of me, drawing the eyes of not only the now silent girls behind me but the men sitting on the bench.
Cindy bursts into a fit of laughter, O’Connor laughing along with her as I feel like I could burst into flames from embarrassment.
I give the men staring at me with open jaws a little wave, not knowing how to proceed from here.
Oh god, this is the first game of many and I’ve already gone and embarrassed Grayson. Yet when I finally peer back at the home bench, they’ve already moved on, along with the girls behind me.
“Try swallowing next time,” Cindy teases, humor dancing across her features.
“Ha ha.” Rolling my eyes, I allow the embarrassment to wash over me as I cling to the warmth of the wine as it hits my bloodstream. “I’m just grateful Grayson didn’t see that little waterworks display.”
Cindy snorts. “He’ll hear about it, though. ”
Grumbling under my breath, I slide lower in my seat while Cindy continues to giggle. Layla would love her; she’s a great drinking buddy and something tells me she would be a great friend, too.
Sometimes you just know when you meet someone. For instance, if Cindy sat down beside me tonight and made the gross comments the women behind me have been making all night, we wouldn’t have gotten along.
Or perhaps that’s just the jealousy taking over my brain. Why do I even feel it? Grayson isn’t looking at them. Except, the second we hit that three-month mark I have no doubt I’ll go straight back to the assistant finding puck bunnies half-naked in his living room.
An unsettling thought pops into my mind, one that has the wine in my stomach churning.
What if he’s still seeing puck bunnies? Would he do that? We didn’t discuss the privacy of the arrangement. I know we agreed no one could know and I signed the lengthy NDA, but it said nothing about him .
Athletes cheat all the time. It’s one thing to sit here and listen to the comments the women make about him, but it’s another thing entirely that I would be used as a fake girlfriend while all the people think he’s cheating on me behind my back.
A small squeak escapes me before I can stop it.
“Bella?”
Scrambling upwards in my seat, I try to ignore the pounding in my chest. This is all in my head, a silly little thought that has spiraled, that’s all. Breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, I give Cindy a smile that is no doubt strained and take a sip of wine.
I’ll talk to him about it after the game.
I’m about to reassure her that I’m fine when one of the women pipes up again in an attempt at a whisper. Cindy and I aren’t the only ones that have been drinking tonight. The girls behind me can’t whisper at all. It’s a miracle they aren’t shouting.
“Do you think he’s over it now?”
“Over it? Tash, that’s so insensitive. ”
“What? It made him all grouchy and moody. He’s much more fun when he’s bubbly.”
“Tash!” the other scolds. “His brother died for fuck’s sake. Show some empathy.”
Every sound around the arena ceases. Grayson skates across the rink heading directly for the home bench, his eyes shadowed as he frowns at my stunned expression. Quickly masking my features does nothing; I wasn’t quick enough to hide my shock.
Cindy is saying something to me, but I can’t hear anything with the roar of blood in my ears.
His brother died?