Page 40

I NSPIRATIONAL SPEECHES TRAPPED in long-winded threats are Kilner’s pregame specialty.

By the time he’s done talking so animatedly that spit covers most of the guys up front, everyone is on edge.

That’s my cue to give them actual words of encouragement.

But losing isn’t an option tonight, and I make sure everyone knows that.

Today is Dalton Royals versus Yale Bulldogs, and we’ve never been more prepared.

We watched game tapes and corrected our failed strategies from our loss to Brown.

I’m content with the plays we ran during practice, and although I still have that dark feeling in my stomach it dampens as game time approaches.

“All right, get your heads on straight before we get out there.” The collective agreement fills the locker room. Just when I’m starting my centering exercises there’s a tap on my shoulder.

“Summer’s here,” Dylan whispers. I'm out the door in an instant, hoping Coach doesn't catch me. With skate guards on, I head down the hall and spot her instantly. She’s like the beam from a lighthouse in a dark sea.

“You came.”

Summer turns, peach scent filling the air. She looks unimpressed with the atmosphere of the arena. “You owe me compensation.”

“My compensation is all yours.” When I gesture to my crotch, she glares like she’d like to knee me.

“You’re lucky I’m still here.”

She’s right. I’m a lucky bastard. “How about I score for you?”

Her nose scrunches. “That is so cheesy. Is that what you offer all your fuck buddies?”

That lights an uncomfortable fire in the pit of my stomach. I want that damn word out of her vocabulary. “No.” My jaw ticks. “The offer is exclusively for you.”

“I’m honored,” she says dryly. “But no, you can make that in your sleep.”

“Aw, is that a compliment?”

She shoots a scornful look at me. “Don’t act humble now. I heard you comparing yourself to Crosby the other night.”

When I laugh, she finally does too. The soft melody is a symphony to my ears and a much needed contrast to her previous unimpressed expression. “Then how about a bet?”

Intrigue lifts her head. “Stakes?”

“Two goals, and we go on a date.”

“What?” she sputters.

In all honesty, I didn’t plan to say that, but now that it’s out there, there’s nothing I want more than to be alone with her without the excuse of school or sex. Not that I’d mind if the date ended with the latter.

I level her with a serious look. “I want to take you on a date.”

“Why?” The look of repulsion on her face should be off putting, but I’m a determined man.

“You’re the first girl to sound disgusted by the proposition.”

“You’ve never dated. How would you know?” she counters.

“Actually, I’ve been on plenty of dates. I just haven’t been in a relationship.”

Her bored look is amusing. “And let me guess, those ‘dates’ ended in hookups?”

I purse my lips. “That’s not important. So what do you say?”

“No.”

Can’t she pretend to think about it? Jesus, this girl is something else. “Didn’t take you as someone who backs out of a challenge.”

“Seriously? You’re trying to reverse-psychology me into this.”

“I don’t think you can use that as a verb.”

She mutters something under her breath. “It’s too easy for you, no.”

“Pumping my ego already? Are you sure you don’t want this date?”

She stares blankly.

“Fine. What’s your counteroffer?” Going on a date with this girl would need a high-stakes presentation and a lot of balls.

“Three.”

I shoot her a questioning look.

“Make a hat trick, and I’ll go on your date,” she grimaces. “No hat trick and I get your truck for a week.”

“Had that one ready to go, did you?”

The joyful look on her face tells me she expects me to sink. It isn’t lost on me that she once referred to my truck as a jock mobile.

“Then it’s settled. If I win, I get a date.”

“And when I win, I get your truck. No tricks,” she warns.

“Only hat tricks, baby.”

My cool confident smile is as much of a facade as it can be. Yale has had us on a losing streak over the years, and we don’t have a home-ice advantage either. I’d have to get the guys on board to set a potential play for it beforehand.

When I’m about to head back, I notice her shirt. “A jersey? I thought that lifestyle wasn’t for you.”

She looks at it with disdain. “It’s not, but Cassie said going to my first college game without a jersey is a cardinal sin.”

“I have to agree.” I would be forever indebted to Cassie for making Summer Preston wear my name on her back. It’s doing serious wonders for my ego. She’s definitely leaving it on tonight.

“Are you sure?” The question borders mischief, and when she turns, I see why.

Summer is wearing Sampson’s jersey.

“Yours was occupied.” She gestures to the concession stand, and my eyes follow to where Crystal Yang watches us, wearing my number. I don’t even pause before I grab the back of my jersey and pull it over my head, leaving my shoulder pads exposed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wide eyes trail down my bare torso.

“Take it off,” I demand. “You’re putting this on.”

She stares at the jersey. “Aiden, you’re playing in a few minutes.”

“I know. Now put this on, Summer.” Our equipment manager had extra jerseys, and her wearing Tyler Sampson’s felt like a jinx.

She doesn’t argue and pulls off the jersey, exposing the tight long sleeve underneath.

The low-cut neckline has me looking away.

Getting hard before the game would not be ideal.

When Summer pulls my jersey over her head, it engulfs her. It’s big enough to fit over my padding, but it still makes me smother a laugh when it comes down to her knees.

“I look ridiculous,” she mutters.

“No, that made you look ridiculous.” I point to Sampson’s jersey.

“At least it fits me,” she argues. “You know what? I just won't wear one.”

I shake my head and hold her arm straight to fold the fabric up to her forearms. Pulling her toward me, I tuck the back of the jersey into the waistband of her skirt. “Better?”

She straightens the jersey, a small smile on her lips. “I’ll give Sampson’s to Amara, but she said she’d rather get hit with a puck than wear any man's name on her back.”

“I can burn it for you,” I offer.

“That sounds sacrilegious.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen his jersey in more sinful places.”

She shivers in disgust and takes a step back. “Good luck, Captain.”

I stop her before she can walk away. “Come here and kiss me.”

She looks around the packed hallway. “Not happening.”

The team shuffles, gathering before game time, but all I see is her. “Kiss me or I’ll kiss you, and it won’t be PG.”

“There are children here, Crawford,” she hisses.

“It’s your decision, Mother Teresa.”

“I hate you,” she grumbles, closing the space between us. I don't duck, so she places her hands on my shoulders to rise on tiptoes. The kiss is an absurdly short peck, but I palm her face to pull her back.

“You don’t hate me.” Then I tilt her head to take her in a deep kiss, one that elicits a surprised moan from her. The wet heat of her mouth sends a cascading pleasure down my spine.

I need the hat-trick, and the team needs to win. Not only because it’s Yale, but because I’ll do anything for a date with Summer. That motivation alone tells me we’ve got it in the bag.

W E DO NOT have it in the bag.

With a burst of speed, I enter the offensive zone, eyes fixed on the net.

The crowd hushes when I release a slapshot, only to be denied by Benny Tang.

I bite back a curse as I take off with the puck, gaining possession again to pass it to Sampson.

Stationed to the left of the key, he snipes in a wrist shot that sounds the buzzer.

The next shot is mine, and my backhand flips into Yale’s net getting us another goal. Skating across the rink, I can’t keep from smirking when I bump into the glass where Summer sits.

When I point at her she glares and flips me off. She actually fucking flips me off.

I bark out a laugh just when Dylan skates into me. “Really want that date, huh?”

Of course, I want it. I want her . Alone and all to myself.

As the last minutes of the game trickles on, I net another goal and we're tied. At three seconds to the buzzer, Cole Carter is our saving grace with a wicked shot that shocks the crowd and gives us our first Yale victory.

It’s ages before I step out of the madness of Ingalls Rink. “Two goals, and an assist. Plus we won,” I say when I see her smug face.

“Rules are rules, baby .” Summer holds out her hand.

I drop my keys in her palm and she beams, clutching them tightly.

From the looks of it, she won’t waste any time picking it up from the parking lot back at Dalton.

It’ll be tough living without my truck for a week, but I like that Summer’s using something that’s mine.

“Preston. You coming for the next one?” Coach’s voice makes us turn. “We’ll need you to fight the refs on a bad call.”

The faintest blush of pink dusts her cheeks, and being able to spot it feels like a superpower.

“I’ll try,” she says.

Coach nods, slapping my back before heading to the bus.

“Not a fan, huh?” I tease her.

“That one referee sucked, and I only threatened him once,” she explains. I’m laughing when she glares. “I’ll meet you at the house. Gotta pick up my prize from the rink first,” she muses.

She follows Amara to her car, and I get on the bus. The forty-minute drive back buzzes with contagious energy, and I feel high off the win even as we hop off the bus and get in Dylan’s car.

After my shower, Summer lies on my bed, and the buzzing energy I’m feeling shifts. Summer finds me at the threshold, and her cheeks tint a shade deeper. Her face looks so warm and comforting it stirs something in my chest.