Page 310 of Breaking the Pucking Rules

“Does he offer to clean you up after and wash your hair in the shower?”

“You’re not funny,” she sulks before throwing the door open and marching toward the bar.

We chat and laugh with everyone while waiting for the players to finish. The team might call themselves a family, but that can also be said for the people up here waiting for them. I love being surrounded by my Vipers family. I always have. Despite it just being me and Dad after Mom passed, I was never lonely. Especially when I was here. The WAGs of Dad’s teammates always ensured that both of us were properly taken care of. They’d deliver food on almost a daily basis, and whenever Dad was travelling, there was always someone I could turn to if I needed something.

They all rallied together, just like I’ve seen them do numerous times since, and ensured that our family is well looked after. It’s really quite something.

I guess it’s only right that a member of our hockey family has stolen my heart.

As the minutes tick by, my nerves begin to increase.

He’s going to message me when he’s done, and I’m going to slip away, hopefully unnoticed, to the parking garage where I can hop into his car and get our celebration started.

It’s risky, but he was adamant that he wasn’t leaving the arena without me. And who was I to argue?

Pulling my cell from my purse, I check it again.

“He’s not going to forget,” Parker teases.

“I know, I just…” I let out a sigh.

“I love this look on you.”

“What look?”

“The happy, sappy, in-love look. It suits you.”

My first instinct is to argue. But I quickly discover that I can’t force the words past my lips.

She’s right.

I am hopelessly and shamelessly in love with Kodie Rivers.

My cell finally buzzes, and I practically fall off my stool.

“Go, just go,” Parker encourages as I attempt to right myself.

“Oh, I am. Don’t worry.”

“Remember you have work tomorrow. Your legs need to work.”

I roll my eyes. “I’d say the same to you, but we both know your boyfriend will need recharging before that happens.”

“Harsh. I’ll have you know, he has a very good recovery time.”

I’m still chuckling as I walk out of the room and head in the direction of the parking garage.

I pass a couple of third and fourth line players. All of them say hello, but thankfully, no one stops me to talk. Well, not until Linc and Fletch waltz around the corner. Their deep laughter bounces off the green and white walls on either side of us, but it falters the second their eyes land on me.

“Lost, Watson?” Linc asks with a smirk.

“Nope. You seem to be, though. The bunnies are that way,” I say, pointing in the general direction of the arena exit where I’ve no doubt they’ll be lingering in the hope of snagging a player.

“Nah, it’s too soon. The rookies can have first pick. All the best ones are willing to wait until the real men appear.”

Fletch shakes his head, muttering, “I can’t believe I used to be like you.”

“Admit it—you miss it.”