Page 6 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Bri

It takes a special kind of individual to succeed in business.

According to endless lectures I ’ ve already heard from my professors, it ’ s a matter of acquiring a unique blend of mathematical prowess, leadership acumen, unshakable confidence, and just enough caffeine to keep a small coffee chain in business.

Okay, I added in that last part, but honestly, without it, I don ’ t think I would have survived this lecture, let alone the three earlier today.

Financial Accounting and Reporting, which I ’ d normally find quite thrilling, has quickly become the bane of my existence thanks to Professor Martin Wilson, who can ’ t stay on topic long enough to actually teach anything.

I have zero patience for disorganization and even less respect for a tenured prof who clearly has stopped trying to put any effort in.

Safe to say, I ’ ve been more than a little frustrated.

“ ... and that is how I ended up stuck with a balance sheet where I completely omitted liabilities. Ha!” The professor laughs at his own joke, clapping his hands together before turning back to the board, no doubt about to continue reading straight off the slide.

“ This guy is brutal,” a voice whispers from beside me. Finally, someone is making sense around here.

“ Tell me about it.” I peek over at my kindred spirit. He ’ s cute, with curly brown hair and those round glasses you see all the hipsters wearing these days. Though it doesn ’ t seem disingenuous on him. It suits him and his dark academia ensemble.

I ’ ve seen him around quite a bit these past couple of weeks.

There are only a few of us in the program, and we all take the same required classes in the first semester before having more flexibility in the second.

Still, only a handful have been friendly enough to make small talk, let alone crack a joke about a professor.

“ I ’ m Clark, by the way.” He ’ s fully turned his body toward me, wholly ignoring the sort-of-lecture taking place ahead of us. Brutal or not, I ’ m not enough of a trouble-maker to spend a class chatting instead of paying attention.

“ Bri,” I reply with a polite smile before picking my pen back up and hovering it over my notebook.

“ Oh well, would you look at the time,” Professor Wilson calls out as he takes a long look at the watch on his wrist. “ We didn ’ t cover as much as I would have liked today…”

“ Shocker,” Clark whispers, and I have to stop myself from giggling.

“ Please read through the remaining… twenty-five slides and be sure to have chapters nineteen through twenty-three summarized in preparation for class next week.” The professor gives us a quick nod before turning and packing up his briefcase.

Two and a half hours, and we got through a total of ten slides. I should have stayed in the library to study for stats, at least then maybe I ’ d feel less panicked. Who am I kidding, I ’ d be freaked even if I ’ d spent the last two weeks studying.

“ You, um, ready for the quiz tomorrow?” Clark asks as he starts to close his laptop and slide it into his backpack.

“ Ready as I can be, I guess. I ’ ve been through the problem sets five times each at this point. You?”

“ Same. I ’ m sure you ’ ll do great. Your notes look… very organized and thorough.” He eyes my color-coded, tabbed, and jam-packed notebook before I put it in my tote.

“ Oh yeah, thanks, I went a little overboard with the highlights.”

My phone buzzes from my pocket, and I know exactly who it is.

Cami, no doubt waiting outside for me. She refused to let me avoid the game tonight, even after I told her I ’ d have to study.

I can never let her sunny disposition fool me.

The girl can be incredibly convincing, which is why I ’ m now about to watch sweaty men chase after a puck in a freezing arena instead of revising my notes from the safety of my couch and heated blanket.

“ Sorry, I have to run. It was nice meeting you, though. Happy studying!” I offer before slinging my bag over my shoulder and rushing out of the lecture hall.

“ See you tomorrow,” he calls out before the doors close behind me.

I quickly spot the familiar white Range Rover.

It ’ s hard to miss, not to mention both the front and back windows are rolled down.

A stunning blonde girl and my adorable niece are frantically waving at me.

I take a few steps closer to the car before I ’ m pulled into a hug by the mystery girl I can only assume is Mia.

Cami said she was coming tonight. They ’ ve been hanging out a lot, and from what I ’ ve heard, she seems like a gem of a human.

She ’ s a natural beauty with the warmest smile I ’ ve seen in a while.

“ Hi, Bri. It ’ s lovely to finally meet you. I ’ m so excited you ’ re coming tonight.” Her voice is soft, but it ’ s welcoming, and it puts a smile on my face.

“ Likewise! I ’ ve heard such wonderful things about you. I ’ m going to have to apologize in advance for my lack of hockey knowledge… hopefully you don ’ t hold it against me.”

“ Happy to answer any questions you have during the game. You take the front, I ’ ll sit in back with Kaia.

” Oh, I ’ m sure I ’ ll have plenty. Between my sister, who ’ s dove head first into being the number one supportive hockey wife and Mia, who is the literal coach ’ s daughter, I should be covered.

“ Thanks,” I reply, leaning my head into the back window to pop a kiss on Kaia ’ s cheek before getting into the passenger seat.

“ How ’ s school, babe?” Cami asks as she starts to pull out of her make-shift parking spot.

“ Oh, you know, the usual. Just trying to convince my brain that I ’ m worrying about a stats quiz, not fighting for my life against a sabre-tooth tiger.”

Her brows knit together, a shadow crossing her features as she looks over at me. I should be used to her concern, but it still catches me by surprise.

“ Have you been pushing yourself too hard? I don ’ t want you stressed like that.” Crap, I ’ m not here to contribute to her pile of worries. Retreat, Bri, retreat.

“ No, don ’ t worry about it. I ’ m just kidding around.

” Absolutely not kidding around. Even my casual mention of the quiz has my stomach sinking.

I physically have to resist the urge to place my hand over the ache.

I need a topic change. “ Geez, I forgot how convenient it is having a car. Gotta say, this is a lot nicer than the bus, and my booties thank you—you ’ re saving them from about ten thousand steps back to my apartment. Thanks for picking me up.”

Cami glances away from me, eyes returning to the road ahead, but the tension in her expression doesn ’ t let up fully. “ Happy to do it. We can drive you around anytime. We love getting to see Auntie Bri, right, Kaia?”

“ TEE-BEE,” Kaia giggle-shouts from the back seat, her arms raising in the air. I can already feel my body starting to relax into the comfort of a change of scenery. It ’ s nice to get out of the apartment-coffee shop-library-lecture hall cycle I ’ ve been in for the past few days.

Thankfully, I ’ m able to dodge any further school interrogation for the remainder of the ride.

By the time we pull up to the arena, the place is absolutely packed, and the game doesn ’ t even start for another forty-five minutes.

Cami and Mia seem to be completely in their element, effortlessly navigating us from the family parking lot to the side gate entrance and down to ice level.

Apparently, we ’ re going to stop by the family room for snacks before watching warm-ups.

As if hours of watching a game I know nothing about weren ’ t enough, now I need to sit through stretching on a slippery surface, how fun.

Once we emerge from the peace of the snack-filled and surprisingly homey room with some of the other players ’ friends and family, we ’ re immediately transported into a different world.

As we step onto the black rubber flooring leading its way to the ice, the blaring music of the arena hits me.

The energy is palpable. As we get closer, I take in the fans filing into their seats all around, the crowds of people smushed against the glass, and the players circling on the ice ahead of us.

A pack of literal giants, looking almost seven feet tall, skate by us before slapping pucks into the open net. Another group of players are spread out closer to the center of the ice, where there seems to be a solid line of divide between the Tundra and the visiting team and—holy shit-balls.

I don ’ t think there are actual words to describe what I ’ m seeing other than it feels like I ’ ve walked into a Magic Mike on Ice show.

There are two players with their legs butterflied on the ice, stretching what I can only hope is their hips, but honestly, it just looks like they are trying to hump to the ice.

A few other players look to be doing a normal-ish warmup, stretching their hamstrings or something.

Another guy on the far side of the ice comes to a sudden stop, ice flying from around his skates, before pulling up his jersey to reveal a ridiculous set of washboard abs. I can ’ t help but stare. He has an immaculate body that genuinely looks like it ’ s glistening.

Hmm, maybe I can get into hockey…

I watch as he wipes his face with the edge of his jersey.

A group of girls behind him cheer and bang on the glass.

He turns to them before posing for their photos, soaking in the attention.

It ’ s a bold move. This guy is obviously loving the spotlight.

Normally, I ’ d roll my eyes and move on, but I ’ m oddly drawn in by his confidence.