Page 6 of Love in the Net (Blue Ridge Buffaloes #2)
I read and re-read the text from Liam, because it’s the only one I’ve gotten since he left Blue Ridge for his stint on the road. He’s called me several times, and I thought he was coming to my house for dinner tonight, his first evening back in town.
The practice rink? Why?
I look over to where Waffles naps in his bed. At least I haven’t burnt anything in the bakery this week. I move from the back of the bakery to the front, restocking my cases and shelves for the following day, as I had an enormous order go out today.
When it’s time, I say, “Come on, Waffles. Let’s go for a ride.” He loves the car, so he has no hesitation with loading up and heading over to the arena where the Buffaloes practice.
We drive through the quiet streets of Blue Ridge with his tongue flapping in the breeze, and he’s vibrating with excitement, completely unaware of how much my nerves mirror his energy.
I pull into the rink’s parking lot, the building standing tall and quiet under the glow of the streetlights. There are more cars here than I expected for this time of night, and for a moment, I wonder if I need a pass to watch practice.
“Ready, buddy?” I ask Waffles, clipping his leash to his collar before stepping out of the car. He jumps down eagerly, his tail wagging like a metronome as we head toward the entrance.
The doors slide open, and I’m immediately hit with the cool, familiar scent of ice and the faint hum of the arena lights.
I look down to the ice, expecting to see Liam in the net, but he’s not there. There are no hockey players on the ice at all.
Then Liam comes out of the door opposite of me, lifting his hand to say hello. My pulse pounds at the sight of him after six days.
Then the sound of barking echoes through the space, followed by laughter and chatter as more people—and dogs—come in after Liam.
They head down the stairs as I watch, and before I know it, people and canines fill the ice. The rink isn’t just a sheet of ice anymore—it’s been turned into a full-blown dog wonderland.
Liam nods to someone, then points, and they put up miniature goal nets and padded barriers, making a doggy obstacle course of sorts.
Scattered across the ice are dogs of all shapes and sizes, slipping and sliding as they chase after tennis balls and rubber pucks while their humans encourage them to get them in the nets.
And at the center of it all is Liam, decked out in his goalie gear—sans the helmet—but with one hilarious addition: a referee’s whistle hanging around his neck. Bear and Scout are right next to him, both wearing tiny Buffalo jerseys that somehow make them look even more adorable.
“What is this?” I whisper to myself.
Liam waves to me, clearly calling me down onto the ice where the chaos reins.
Before I can move, Waffles tugs on his leash, clearly desperate to join the chaos on the ice. I let him pull me forward, and I practically trip as he leads me down the steps toward the ice.
Liam’s smile doesn’t slip as I arrive, and he slide-walks over to me, Bear and Scout trotting after him like the world’s cutest assistants.
“Hey,” he says, his voice carrying over the noise.
“Hey.” My heart pounds. “What is all this?”
“Mm, it’s so good to see you.” He hugs me close, his mouth right at my ear as he murmurs, “Your fundraiser didn’t go the way you wanted, and I thought maybe I could help.”
I pull away, blinking. “By hosting a doggy hockey day?”
His gray eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me wish we were alone. “You work so hard for everyone else, Claire. I wanted to do something for you. Something to show you that I see you. That I—” He pauses, then takes a deep breath. “That I love you.”
The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him. He loves me. Liam O’Brien, professional hockey player and grumpy dog dad extraordinaire, loves me.
“Claire?” he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “You okay?”
I snap out of my daze, a laugh bubbling out of me as tears prick the corners of my eyes. “You love me.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, I love you.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, and when I look up, his eyes are shining with a mix of relief and happiness. “You don’t have to?—”
“I love you too, Liam.”
“Yeah?”
“ Now you’re going to start with the questions?” I fold myself into his arms and take in the happy canines frolicking on the ice. Waffles bounds around, his paws slipping and sliding as he tries to keep up with Bear and Scout. “This hockey uniform isn’t very comfortable.”
“Keeps me from getting hurt though.”
I straighten and look at him. “Why are you wearing it?”
“Great question, sweetheart,” he says, but he doesn’t answer it.