Page 8 of No Rhyme or Roughing (The Golden Guardians Hockey Hearts #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

RYDER

“Fuuuuuck.” My teeth chattered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Baby.” Sydney strolled past me, tossing the jab over her shoulder. Or had I imagined it? She didn’t saunter, didn’t walk with any deliberate seduction. And yet, I couldn’t stop watching her as she dove into the freezing water.

“Masochist.” I wrapped my arms around my bare chest, but it didn’t do much for the cold. “Whoever decided to go swimming in Alameda in late fall needs their head examined. Oh, wait, that was us.”

Sydney popped above the surface, wet blond strands clinging to her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled with laughter. “It’s not that cold.” She smacked the water, sending a freezing splash my way.

“You’re insane.”

Her smile faltered, just for a moment, but I caught it. “Sorry, I…” She shook her head and released a soft sigh, leaning back to let her legs float. “I missed the ocean.”

I would never understand this woman. One second, she was wide open, and the next, it was like she pulled everything back inside and slammed the doors.

“You just came from L.A.”

“It’s different there. I didn’t really go to the beach; I didn’t fit. Didn’t want to fit. I spent so long running from this place that I forgot how perfect it was.”

I wanted to ask why she didn’t feel like she fit in L.A.

, but I tried to see what she saw. Growing up in the Bay Area, it was easy to overlook the beauty tourists came for—mountains in the distance; the ocean spreading out on multiple sides, palm trees lining the streets.

I glanced across the water to the city skyline.

From here, it looked like a jewel, a grand adventure waiting to be discovered.

What I wouldn’t give to see it all for the first time without the memories.

“Come here.” Sydney stood and held out a hand.

I took it, stepping farther into the water and fighting the urge to shiver. “What are we doing here? Something about the sway of the waves and dancing?”

A giggle escaped her, soft and musical. It pulled a grin from me before I could stop it. Her smiles weren’t easy to come by, but when they came, they were victories.

“Where did you hear that?” she asked, still holding my hand. “Dancing and the sway of the waves? This isn’t a movie, Ry. I just really wanted to swim. ”

“You… what?”

She tugged me closer, close enough that I could imagine hearing her heartbeat.

Did it pound as hard as mine? Lowering her voice, she looked up at me through her lashes.

“Okay, serious time.” Her smile faded as she bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the trembling flesh. “You’re going to suck at this.”

Not what I expected. “Um… thanks for the honesty?”

She rolled her eyes, pressing a hand to my chest to keep me from backing away. “Shit. I didn’t mean it like that. You bring it out of me. I just… Screw it. It’s the truth. There are three days until your next game. That’s not enough time to turn you into a good dancer.”

“Three days? Jesus, Syd. You want me to do this at the next game?”

“Absolutely. No time to waste if they’re really trying to sell the team. We can practice a few moves, but that’s not what you need.”

Her finger tapped against my sternum, and I wasn’t sure she even realized she was doing it. But it made breathing… difficult. “Then, what do I need?”

The question hung between us, heavy and charged.

Fuck. She was in my head. From the moment we got to the beach and she revealed the high-waisted one-piece swimsuit, I’d been losing control. The sides were cut out, showing smooth skin, and my brain couldn’t keep up.

I brushed wet hair back from her face before realizing what I was doing and dropping my hands.

Clearing her throat, she stepped back. “You, my dearest stiff-as-fuck, hockey-playing, white-toast boy, need to loosen up.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Jesus fucking Christ, why am I like this around you?”

“White toast?” I raised an eyebrow, amused at her spiraling.

“You know… bland. I’ll bet you always do what you’re told.” She planted her hands on her hips.

I shrugged. “These days, I guess.”

“Come on, Ry! At least pretend not to be boring.”

“Did I or did I not agree to shake my ass in front of fans and my entire team in three days?”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “We need to spice you up.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means loosen the tie, dude. You’re about to break one of hockey’s cardinal rules.”

“Which is?”

“Have a personality.” She groaned. “Hockey players are so boring. It’s why no one watches. You all say the same lines in interviews, never smile, never get mad except on the ice—where the visors cover your expressions.” Lifting both brows, she let her eyes drift downward. “Take off your trunks.”

“Excuse me?”

“Skinny dipping.” She sank beneath the water for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut like she was trying to convince herself too. Then she pulled the straps off her shoulders, lifting her suit above the waves.

I would not survive Sydney Valentine.

She turned away, kicking out farther, a sliver of her ass peeking free.

Swallowing hard, I yanked at my waistband, awkwardly stripping in the water. Apparently, dancing on the ice wasn’t the only thing Sydney could talk me into.

She peered back at me, grinning like she’d won a dare.

Suit clutched in my hand, I kicked after her and followed, my toes no longer brushing the sandy bottom.

“Still cold?” she asked.

I shook my head. The water wasn’t warm, but the adrenaline from breaking the rules was intoxicating.

“Feel made new?” she asked softly, her shoulders rising and falling with the waves.

“Not sure I’d say that.”

“Good.” Her smile wasn’t sly or teasing this time. It was soft. “You don’t need to be somebody else for this, Ryder. We just have to pull out a side of you that’s already there.”

She went quiet, her gaze shifting downward. “I’m sorry I called you boring. Sometimes words just… tumble out. It got me in trouble as a kid before I learned to lock it all up.”

“I want to hear it.”

Her lips parted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “My mom always said, ‘Keep it locked up, girl, or no one will want to play with you.’ She was right. My sisters hate me, my dad whatevers me, and I can’t keep a rela?—”

I didn’t let her finish. I slammed my lips into hers, unable to hold back any longer.

Her mouth was hot and inviting. Our legs tangled, her chest brushing mine, and I sprang back, swimming away.

She touched her lips, her wide eyes meeting mine .

Clearing my throat, I tried to joke. “That loosened up enough for you?”

Her voice was hoarse. “Uh, yeah. I’d say so. Way to go, buddy.”

We exchanged a high five, feeling like awkward teenagers.

Walking back to the shore, we dressed quickly, realizing we weren’t as alone as we thought.

“Sydy,” I called, needing to remind myself who she was.

She barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry, the last person I’d tell about this is Teddy. It was just a mistake.”

A mistake. Shit.

“Can’t happen again,” I said.

“Right.” She poked my chest. “But don’t think this gets you out of saving the team.”

“No awkward turtles,” I teased.

“Good. Because I think I kind of hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Good.”

“Right.”

Shit.