Page 26 of Pucking the Team

“I don’t know, I—”

“Here.” She thrust another Vipers hoodie at me. “Come give the guys some support. The home crowd is huge and very vocal, so we need all the Viper fans we can get.”

“But, I—”

She glanced at an expensive diamond watch. “Come on, we gotta make a move.”

“Can I have one minute? To freshen up.” I stood tall and raised my chin. I wasn’t a delicate peach that would bruise at the slightest bump or the sort of raft that would sink in a storm. I’d been through worse than this, and perhaps a new experience was just what I needed.

She smiled. “If that means you’re coming, then sure, go ahead, I’ll meet you in the lobby in five, and Pippa…”

“Yeah.”

“I think you’re gonna love hockey, it’s addictive.”

Chapter Seven

The rink was booming with the sound of AC/DC hammering it out on the loud speakers, and the air was heavy with the scent of meaty burgers and sweet cola. A squat blue vehicle was driving over the ice and appeared to be polishing the surface.

“Come sit over here,” Gina said, indicating for me to follow her down some steps.

I did as she’d suggested and pulled the hoodie sleeves over my hands; the temperature was several degrees lower than outside.

The rink was lined with Plexiglass, much taller than I would have expected, and the seats were filling up quickly. A fizz of anticipation sizzled through the air.

“These are for us,” Gina said, indicating to a cordoned-off box of seats just behind where the Viper players had gathered. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay, thanks.” I took a seat on the hard red plastic chair and folded my arms. The players were right in front of me—even bigger now they were padded up and wearing helmets. They each had their names written over their backs. I spotted the two Evans brothers standing next to each other. Lewis, I remembered was the captain, Rick Ramrod Lewis, but the others I didn’t recognize.

Until Eduardo turned around and saw me. He held up his gloved hand in a wave.

I waved back.

He then nudged the player next to him who turned to face him.

Through the cage of his helmet I saw dark stubble. It was Dylan. His attention settled on me, and for a moment I wasn’tsure if he was pleased or not that I was at the game. Then he nodded, once, and turned back around to face the ice. SANDERS was stamped on the back of his jersey. He said something to Eduardo who nodded, then they high-fived.

Was that about me?

I had no idea.

“Hey, are you Pippa? Gina told me to hunt you out.”

I spun to my right. A pretty girl with wild red hair sticking out from under a Vipers cap had plonked herself next to me.

“Er, yes, I am.”

“Oh good. I’m Fiona. He’s mine.” She pointed to a player with STARR on his jersey. “I’m glad it hasn’t started. When Raven talks about it endlessly later I need to have seen every move.” She laughed, a lovely bright sound, and her eyes sparkled.

“You’re married to him?” I asked.

“Yes, he can be a grumpy bugger, but I knew what I was taking on when I said ‘I do’.” Again she laughed.

“You’re not American. Welsh, right?”

“Yes, I met him when they did their last UK tour. He did his shoulder in during their final game, here at this rink, in fact, and I was his physiotherapist.”

“Nice story.” I paused. “So is he nervous about playing here again, if he was injured last time?”