Page 33 of Hotshot

Blood zipped through my veins, sending my heart rate through the ceiling. He was toying with me like a lion pawing at a mouse. What did he want from me? I was too afraid of misreading signals to think we might be on the same page.

Don’t ask me what that meant. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

No, that was a damn lie. I knew exactly what I wanted.

“Say it. What are you wondering?” I asked before taking a sip of water.

Hank propped his elbows on the table and tipped his hat. “I’m wondering if we should start over…with a sexier proposition.”

My jaw dropped on cue and since I currently had a mouth full of water, it dribbled over my chin. Classy much?

Wait. It got worse.

I set the glass down with athud, sloshing water over the sides and onto the table. I tried to pull it out of the way but knocked it over instead, spilling the contents directly in Hank’s lap.

He jumped up, cursing under his breath and brushing at his jeans ineffectually.

“Damn, I’m sorry.” I waved a server over.

She cleaned the watery mess on the table and handed Hank a wad of napkins.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Can I get you—” She froze as she turned to me. “Hey, you’re Denny Mellon. The hockey player, right?”

Shit. Could I deny it? No, that was dumb.

“I—yeah. I am.”

Her face lit up, and she let out a shrill squeal that echoed throughout the bar.

“I watched the last period on my break, and oh my gosh, you were amazing! Can I get a selfie, please? I never ask, but I can’t resist. You’re my favorite new player. I’m Kelly, by the way.” Her phone was out and she was plastered to my side before I could get a word in.

I swallowed my unease as heads swiveled our way.

Okay, this had happened once or twice. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it was an honor. I was a hockey fan too. I still got jazzed when I saw some of my idols, and playing with them in the pros was seriously next level. But I wasn’t used to the rabid attention off the ice.

I thought I did okay, though. I smiled for the camera, signed a napkin for Kelly, and for the couple next to us. Someone was filming from the pool tables and that was fine too. I mean…I would have preferred to be left alone, but at least no one expected a speech. And their questions were easy.

“How do you like playing for Denver?”Love it.

“You’re from here, right?”Yes, I am.

“Do you think we’ll bring home the cup this year?”I hope so.

Simple questions, simple answers.

“Thank you! Drinks on the house. How do you feel about wings? Or nachos? Ours are the best,” Kelly gushed.

Not sure why that was the moment I froze, but words wouldn’t come. Panic threatened for no good fucking reason. I opened my mouth, hoping for the best and prepared for the worst.

Silence hung in the air, vanishing when Hank stepped forward. “We were just on our way out.”

Kelly didn’t bat an eyelash at his authoritative tone or seem surprised that he’d inserted himself. Hank’s “Don’t fuck with me” aura was strong, and with his cowboy hat pulled low over his face, he looked mysterious and imposing. And yeah, at that very second, I would have followed him any-fucking-where.

I waved at the small crowd of hockey fans then made my way to the exit with Hank, cool and casual, as if we were the best of friends.

Reality: my pulse was racing, my insides were goo, and my brain was bouncing all over the place. Unexpectedly running into fans was long forgotten now. I wasn’t agitated, I was…excited. What was wrong with me?