Page 23 of Lucky Shot (Moonshot Hockey #1)

RUBY

On Sunday morning I wake up with the sun. In only a week my body has attuned to the early morning shift in my schedule. I wander out of my cabin with a cup of hot tea (I still need to get a coffee pot) and smile at the view. A girl could get used to this.

The water laps quietly and the bids chirp. It’s so nature-y. I take a short video and send it to Olivia. Her response is immediate.

Olivia

It sounds like you’re living in a forest. Is there a flock of birds directly over your head? Have you taken up bird watching? Do they eat out of your palm? Did you buy one of those feeders that takes video? Should I send help?

A small laugh leaves my lips because a week ago I would have been as horrified as she sounds, but now, it’s kind of nice.

Me

No, but it is stunning here.

Olivia

Here too.

She’s attached a picture of Flynn working out in their backyard. He’s shirtless and holding dumbbells that make his arm muscles strain. Shaking my head and smiling, I click off the image. Flynn is a handsome guy, for sure, but the way I feel about him is too brotherly to enjoy checking him out.

A pang of something else hits me though.

A restlessness to have that type of relationship.

They’re still so in love but they also have a deep trust and connection that I’ve never had with a man.

I can see how it’s changed my sister. She’s more secure somehow, less guarded.

Let me be clear, I don’t think a man is going to make me less of a hot mess.

It’d still be nice to have someone that brought out the good in me instead of the usual insecurity, fear, and lastly, rage.

I’m downloading an app that says it can identify birds by their sounds and appearance when something catches my eye down by the water. Or rather, someones.

Two men are running side by side. I pick out Nick first. His dark hair flops with every step.

He’s too far for me to make out his facial expression but his jaw is set in its usual hard line.

When I’m finally able to pull my gaze off him, I recognize the bulkier man next to him as Penn.

Their words from last night about meeting up to run around the lake resurface.

Jesus, did they literally run around the whole damn lake?

I’m still wondering about it, and staring, when Nick stops jogging. He lifts a hand in a wave to Penn, who keeps going, and then starts toward the house.

The closer he gets, the better able I am to see him. I have the sudden desire to snap a picture and send it to Olivia because my view just got a lot better. He’s tall and broad, but lean. His waist tapers in and his muscles are well-defined.

Nick’s gaze drifts to me when he’s halfway up to the house.

He adjusts his path, heading toward the cabin instead of his place.

My heart beats rapidly. I take a sip of tea, hoping to appear completely unphased, but the heat of it mixed with the warmth fluttering through me with the hot, grumpy man coming my way has sweat beading up on my forehead.

“Morning,” he says, a little gruff and a little breathless, when he’s ten feet away.

This close I can make out the sweat dripping down his temples and chest and abs. Good god. I swallow hard.

“Morning,” I chirp back, so high-pitched it doesn’t even sound like me. I glance down into my tea and take another small sip. I am on fire, inside and out.

He rests both hands on his hips and his chest moves as he works to catch his breath. “You’re up early.”

“Not as early as you, apparently.”

“Trying to beat the heat. It finally feels like summer.”

I glance down to the lake, so I won’t be tempted to check him out again. Who am I kidding? I’m tempted. Fuck, am I tempted.

“Maybe I’ll take a swim today.” I glance back at him and am hit with that buzzy, warm feeling in another wave.

“I wouldn’t suggest it unless you’re looking to do a polar plunge. It’ll be another couple of weeks before the water is warm enough to brave swimming.”

Momentarily I think of the pool at my old apartment building. The hot concrete that burns your feet and the lounge chairs with blue and white striped umbrellas overhead. Hard as I try, I can’t imagine being back there. Though a dip in the non-frigid water does sound nice.

“No writing today?” he asks.

“No, I try to take Sundays off. Though now that swimming is off the table, I’ll have to find something else to do.”

“I might have a solution.”

My brows lift. “You do?”

“Meet me out front in twenty minutes?”

“Ominous.” A grin pulls at my lips. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I tamp back the giddy sensation rising in my chest. “I need more information. What should I wear? Do I need to fix my hair? Do I need a hat? Sunscreen? Wait. You’re not going to make me run around the lake, are you?”

A small huff of a laugh leaves him, and his hands fall to his sides. “No running. And wear whatever you want. Where we’re going, it won’t matter.”

Even more ominous. But I’m still grinning as he starts for the house. A few steps away, he glances back over his shoulder. “Wear socks.”

“Socks?!” He doesn’t care what else I wear, but socks are necessary?

Of course, he doesn’t bother responding, and I’m too excited to let it stop me from springing into action. I should probably question the excitement of going somewhere with Nick, but I shove all that away. And I pull on socks.

Of all the places I imagined Nick taking me, this wasn’t in the top one hundred. And it absolutely should have been.

“The hockey rink?” I ask as his truck comes to a stop in the parking lot.

Disappointment must be splashed across my face because his mouth pulls up on one side. “Come on, Red. I promise it isn’t what you think.”

What I think is he’s going to make me work on a perfectly good Sunday afternoon. Which honestly, I should. The notes from Molly on my first chapter were encouraging but I also got the feeling she was being very cautious not to scare me off with any tough changes right out of the gate.

“I didn’t bring my laptop.”

“You won’t need it.” He opens his door and hops out. There’s a pep in his step that I haven’t noticed before. He’s excited and that makes me all the more curious. He comes around the front of the truck to my side as I’m getting out.

“You’re surprisingly less grumpy-looking.”

“Am I?” His lips pull wider.

My stomach flutters.

“You’re kind of freaking me out.” I take two steps to each of his long strides. My heart pumps fast with anticipation, and I find myself admiring his profile.

Grumpy Nick is hot, but this happy, excited version is downright irresistible.

We step into the rink and the cool air blasts me immediately. My pink summer dress with sneakers was a cute idea when I thought we were going anywhere else.

My feet move in the usual path, down to the ice, but Nick touches my elbow and tips his head to the left. “This way.”

I don’t ask the millions of questions that pop into my head as he leads me down a dark hallway. Dim lighting casts an eerie glow and our footsteps echo around us.

He finally stops a few paces from a doorway. I lean forward to see inside, but he crowds me.

“What are we doing?” I ask, feeling my heartbeat pick up speed in my chest.

The door behind him opens, and a man in a T-shirt and gray slacks steps out, then stops when he sees us.

Slowly his mouth curves into a smile. “Galaxy. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Ron.” Nick opens his stance. The two men shake hands. “We’re going out on the ice for a bit.”

Ron’s eyes twinkle with a friendly playfulness. “Missing it, huh? Season will be here soon.”

“Not soon enough.” Nick reciprocates the smile.

“Well, if you need anything, holler. I’m working in the equipment closet. Gotta make room for the new gear.”

“Thanks,” Nick says. “We could use an extra pair of skates.”

“Sure. I’ve got a bunch of your extras I can sharpen up.”

“Not for me.” Nick shakes his head.

And then both men are looking at me.

Wait, what? Cue the record scratch. Everything finally locks into place and…no. No freaking way.

My eyes widen. “Nuh-uh.”

I back away, waving my hands in front of me. My shoulder blades collide into the wall when I run out of room to flee.

“I’ll set out some options,” Ron says.

Nick tips his head to him. “Thanks.”

Rubbing the spot on my back that will probably be a bruise, I continue to shake my head as Nick approaches me.

“I know you said that you’re not athletic,” he says gently.

Is he for real? Not athletic? That’s like saying he’s not a bad hockey player. True, but wildly underselling it.

“I fell walking on ice,” I say dryly. My heart is racing at the idea of going out there. No, not just going out there, going out there with him . It’d be one thing if I were learning with someone less…professional. And less hot.

“You didn’t have on the right gear,” he says and bless him, he sounds like he genuinely believes that all I need is the appropriate footwear. “Learning about hockey and experiencing hockey are two different things. Look how fast you picked up poker last night.”

That didn’t require me to wear blades as shoes.

His expression is earnest as he says, “Think of it as more research for the book. And if I’m wrong, then we’ll go back to doing it your way.”

A logical and practical argument, but I’m feeling far from level-headed right now.

“No. I…can’t.” It’s a bad idea. Terrible, in fact. “No,” I say again, this time determined.

There is absolutely no way I’m going out there.