Page 18

CHAPTER 16

SLOANE

T he sharp buzz of the intercom made me jump, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pushed away from the bathroom vanity where I’d been finishing my makeup, and I walked over to the panel on the wall, pressing the button to answer.

“Your car is waiting, ma’am,” a calm, detached voice informed me.

I sighed, leaning my head against the cool wall for a second before responding. “Thanks, I’ll be right down.”

Logan had asked me to go to the game tonight and arranged for a car to pick me up, and I’d been stressing all afternoon about it. “This is just work. That’s all this is. He’s paying you,” I muttered to myself as I stared into the mirror one more time. I let the words settle, a small knot twisting in my stomach. That was the only reason I was wearing his jersey—because it was a client asking me to do something.

Shaking my head because I was a liar, I walked out into the hallway, grabbing a light jacket from the coat closet as I made my way to the elevator. It might be boiling hot outside, but it was freezing in the arena.

When I stepped outside, a sleek black car idled at the curb, the driver standing beside it in a crisp suit. He opened the door for me without a word, and I slipped inside, the smell of leather and fresh pine greeting me.

The drive to the arena passed in silence, except for the sound of my shoes tapping nervously against the floor as I crossed and uncrossed my legs, fidgeting. Every few minutes, I glanced at my phone, then out the window, then back to my phone. The knot in my stomach tightened the closer we got.

When the car finally pulled up to the arena, the driver stepped out and opened my door. I thanked him quietly and climbed out.

Logan had already sent me my ticket, and I pulled it up on my phone, skimming over the section and seat number. As I walked through the maze of the arena, I slowed when I caught sight of the section I was heading toward.

My steps faltered as I realized where I was sitting—and more importantly, who I’d be sitting with.

I recognized the women immediately. I’d seen them at the previous games, noticing them because some of the Dallas Knights players were always flirting with them through the glass. I was pretty sure they were wives or girlfriends of Logan’s teammates.

Of course, he would have me sitting by them.

My fingers tightened around my phone as I stepped into the row. One of the women, a gorgeous redhead who looked really familiar, looked up and smiled, her hazel eyes bright. “Oh, hi! You must be Sloane, right?”

I hesitated, my throat dry, that unfamiliar warmth flooding my insides—he’d told them about me…in detail apparently since she’d known what I looked like. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

She patted the seat next to her. “Come on, we don’t bite. I’m Olivia.”

I forced a smile, sliding into the chair…trying not to look like I was freaking out.

“Hi,” a beautiful blonde said from the other side. “I’m Blake. I’m married to that one,” she said, wrinkling her nose as a tall, black-haired—very gorgeous—Dallas player stopped at the glass in front of us. He turned around and started shaking his ass at her, glancing over his shoulder to watch her reaction.

“Go warm up, Lancaster.” She grinned.

“You’re eye-fucking me while I skate, ma’am. A guy is only so strong when the most beautiful girl in the world is giving him the eyes.”

Blake giggled, almost hysterically, as he blew her a kiss before skating away.

“I’d just like to know when you aren’t ‘giving him the eyes,’” a raven-haired woman on Blake’s other side mused.

“You’re probably right,” Blake said, still watching him with a dreamy look on her face.

My gaze went to Logan, who was talking to the Dallas goalie. A weird pang of longing hitting me hard.

Because I wanted that kind of flirty ease with someone—I wanted that with him .

“That’s mine over there talking to Rookie—sorry, Logan,” Olivia said, distracting me from the thoughts I was not supposed to be having as she pointed to the Dallas goalie.

“I wish you’d brought Isabella,” the ebony-haired woman said, her lips pressed into a pretty pout.

Olivia snorted. “It’s too loud in here, even with those noise-canceling earmuff things. Walker wouldn’t be able to concentrate. He’d be looking over here every few seconds, making sure she was all right. You can come over tomorrow to play.”

“Fine, I’ll try and live without her for a day.” The girl huffed before shooting me a dazzling grin. “Hi, I’m Monroe. I’m married to…” She scanned the ice, her lips turning into a soft smile as a tall, golden-haired, very hot man skated to a stop in front of her and stared at her intensely while he made a heart sign with his hands and pointed to her. “That one,” she whispered, a flush hitting her cheeks as they stared at each other.

I actually knew that player. People had been talking about Lincoln Daniels almost constantly the first three games. Being this close to him…were they feeding the Dallas team something different than everyone else? I’d never seen so many hot guys in one place.

“I think I’m pregnant again just from watching you two,” huffed Olivia to Monroe. “I don’t know how you aren’t.”

Monroe giggled and shook her head. “Don’t give him any ideas. Just think of how he’d be if I got pregnant. I’d be sitting here in a full-on bubble with armed guards around me that would be instructed to shoot first, ask questions later.”

A tan beauty with light blond hair giggled next to her. “I think Elaine would be offended if he added more guards,” she said, nodding her head to an intimidatingly strong-looking woman who looked like she could bench-press half the arena…with one hand. “And hi, I’m Anastasia. I’m with number sixty-three, Camden,” she said, pointing to another very attractive guy who was talking to Ari out on the ice.

“Hi,” I said. I bit down on my lip…having so many questions. “You guys have bodyguards?” I finally asked, unable to keep in that one.

“Well, originally the guards were for this one,” Anastasia said, nodding to Olivia. “She’s kind of a big deal.”

Olivia snorted and shook her head. “It was only a matter of time until the others cracked and got some. Did you see how Lincoln was glaring at the popcorn boy the other game? I thought he was going to leap over and grab him!”

Monroe smirked. “I’m surprised they haven’t found some way to hang a suspended platform in the air above the ice where we can see, but no one else is nearby.”

My eyes widened. They sounded so casual about all of these…crazy things.

I cocked my head, thinking. They were about as crazy as hiring someone to spend time with you now that I was thinking about it.

It hit me then, and my jaw dropped as I glanced over at Olivia.

“Wow. I know you. You’re the famous singer!” I said, a slight screech in my voice as I realized that the Olivia Davis was sitting next to me. “How did I not connect the dots?”

Olivia looked amused. “I am a singer.”

Blake leaned forward with a grin. “And she is famous.”

Olivia wrinkled her nose at her. “Says the supermodel.”

“I’m just a student,” Monroe said, raising her hand.

“And a writer working on the most amazing book,” Blake retorted.

“She’s an incredible principal ballerina,” Monroe said, pointing at Anastasia.

I had a bemused smile as I stared at all of them. They were obviously very close and supportive of each other. I’d never had close female friends…not since my eighteenth birthday party. I’d been so messed up after the auction that I’d cut myself off from everyone. Everett hadn’t exactly encouraged me otherwise.

Don’t think about that .

I bit down on my lip, realizing what their next question was probably going to be…

And right on cue…

“What do you do?” Blake asked. “I guess the better question would be, what do you like to do…”

“Besides Logan, of course,” Anastasia said with a straight face as Olivia snorted again beside me.

“Ana,” Monroe said, elbowing her. “We don’t even know if Rookie has enough game to bag a ten like Sloane. Maybe they’re just friends.” All of them looked at me at the same time, and I blushed.

I could just picture what their reactions would be if I told them the truth about what I did. They wouldn’t want anything to do with me. I scrambled to think of an answer. Usually I said things like…consultant…or business.

But this time…

“I paint,” I said softly, wanting to whack myself on the head because I had no idea why I’d said that.

“You do?” Olivia asked, looking so earnest and interested, I wanted to cry.

Before I could say anything else, Logan was in front of the glass. “Hi,” he mouthed, looking all hot and sweaty…and delicious as he stood there. I waved because all my game was gone, evidently.

“You complete me,” he mouthed, and I snorted as the girls all laughed.

“Hope you like corny,” Olivia whispered. “Because these guys are full of it.”

I grinned, that warm feeling spreading through my chest. “It’s still up for debate,” I muttered back as the game began. Even though that was another lie.

“We’ve all been there, girl,” Blake said as Lincoln faced off across a Tampa player.

“Been where?” I asked, frowning.

“Trying to pretend we’re not completely obsessed with a Knight,” she said, her tone teasing. The other women laughed, and I felt my face heat.

“I’m not—” I started, but the words died in my throat as Logan glanced up from the ice. His gaze swept across the stands, until it landed on me.

His lips quirked into a grin, and my heart flipped.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Not obsessed at all.”

I sank lower in my seat, my cheeks burning as I stared down at the ice, wondering if she wasn’t that far off.

* * *

LOGAN

That feeling was back, the one I was used to, where everything felt right when I was out on the ice.

I knew why it was back. It was because of Sloane, because she was where she belonged.

Watching me instead of Tyler Fucking Miller.

Sloane’s presence had me feeling so good…I didn’t even care that my father was somewhere in the stands, pretending to watch while critiquing my every move like he knew as much about hockey as he did playing football.

“A new addition to the ‘Ladies of the Circle,’ ehh?” Camden asked as he stole my puck and brought my head back to warm-ups.

“Ladies of the Circle? When did we approve that?” asked Ari.

“I’ve got some ideas!” said Walker eagerly.

“Of course you do, simp,” snarked Ari.

Walker huffed as he easily stopped a puck that Dex, one of our teammates, had shot.

“Well, we’re listening, Disney,” drawled Lincoln right before he smacked the puck and sent it sliding past Walker and into the back of the net.

Walker grimaced. It was a good thing that Lincoln was on our team, because Walker could rarely stop his shots. “Ladies of the Locker Room, the Sin Bin Sweethearts, the Stanley Cup cakes,” Walker recited. “I also have the Stick Whisperers or the Hat Trick Honeys…”

“Ooh, what about the Trustettes?” offered Camden, obviously eager to redeem himself after the whole “Ladies of the Circle” debacle.

“None of these are deserving of Blake ‘Honey Bunny’ Lancaster,” Ari griped as we skated back toward the bench to get chewed out one more time by Coach. “You all need to do better.”

Lincoln barked out a laugh, and Ari grinned at him over his shoulder. “Liked that one, didn’t you, Golden Boy?”

“Was he laughing with you…or at you? That is the question of the day,” said Camden as my attention drifted over to where Sloane was talking to the girls. She had a faint blush to her cheeks and looked happier than I had seen her. The Hat Trick Honeys…already working their magic.

Nope, not a good one. I’d have to think of some better ones to offer—especially since Sloane was one of them now. Only the best for my girl.

The game started, and it was immediately balls to the wall. We were down by one in the series, and everything felt like it was on the line tonight. I could feel it in my bones, that tight coil of adrenaline ready to snap at any moment.

“Hey, ref, is it a penalty to breathe now?” Ari asked as the whistle blew, and Camden was sent to the penalty box for high-sticking halfway through the first period.

The ref in question, definitely a Tampa Bay sympathist based on his calls, blew the whistle in Ari’s face as I skated into the face-off circle.

My eyes were locked on number seventy-five as he lined up across from me. My stick tapped the ice twice, my knees bending a little deeper.

“You look nervous,” I said.

“Shut up, York,” he shot back, tightening his grip on his stick.

The ref raised his arm…and the puck dropped.

I reacted before he could, my stick snapping down with a clean crack as I swept the puck back toward Ari. My body surged forward as I drove off my skates, leaving the guy cursing and scrambling behind me.

Ari had the puck now, snapping it over to Lincoln, who charged up the boards. I kept my speed, weaving into position, my heart pounding in sync with the roar of the crowd.

And then it happened.

I saw the hit coming before it connected, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Lincoln was in the corner, battling for the puck, his focus so locked in that he didn’t see the Tampa player barreling toward him. The hit landed high, slamming into Lincoln’s shoulder and sending him crashing into the boards with a sickening thud.

Everything slowed down for a second. The crowd gasped. The refs blew the whistle. But all I could focus on was the sound of Lincoln hitting the ice and the way he didn’t get back up right away.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, skating toward him, but I already knew something was wrong. He wasn’t moving like he normally did, his face twisted in pain as he pushed himself up.

“Golden Boy, you good?” Ari called out, his voice tight.

Trainers were on the ice in a heartbeat, helping him to his feet. He tried to shrug them off, but he grimaced as he tried to stand on his left ankle.

“Get off the ice, Linc,” I said, skating up next to him, my voice quieter now. “Don’t push it.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head, clearly pissed but in too much pain to argue. He turned toward the bench, hobbling away with the trainers on either side of him, while the rest of us stood there, trying to pretend like this wasn’t as bad as it felt.

The rest of the game felt like a blur. Without him, it was like the wind got knocked out of us. Every play felt harder, every shift slower. Tampa knew it too. They smelled blood in the water and started hammering us, taking advantage of every missed opportunity—every mistake we made.

Hockey is a momentum sport. I would argue more than any other, and the momentum had turned in Tampa’s favor. We played catch-up the rest of the game. No matter how hard we pushed, we couldn’t find the net.

By the time the final buzzer sounded, we were down by two goals. The crowd was quiet, a low murmur of disappointment filling the air as we skated off the ice.

In the locker room, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. After getting railed by the coaching staff, I pulled out my phone and saw a text from my dad.

Dad: That was an embarrassment.

I growled and chucked my phone to the floor.

“Chin up. Linc’s got a sprain, but he’ll be back…at the very least for Game Seven,” said Ari, plopping into a chair beside me.

“If we even make it to Game Seven,” I grumbled, pushing my wet hair out of my face.

“None of that,” said Ari, patting me on the shoulder. “It’s not over, ’til it’s over.”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” I asked glumly. “Because if that was supposed to be motivating, it sucked.”

“I can quote you the Remember the Titans speech,” Walker offered.

Ari grinned at that one for some reason—probably some inside joke from before my time. I hated those.

“He’s really good at that one,” said Ari.

“Maybe next time,” I drawled, still a Sad Sally as I got up and grabbed my bag.

“Pretty sure there’s a gorgeous girl out in the hallway who’ll make you feel better,” Ari said with a slow grin as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “Hopefully she can fix your head. Give you a little can-do attitude, if you know what I mean.”

That made me perk up. I decided right then and there that only one thing could make me feel better after a game like that.

A second date…that ended in my bed.

“Don’t call her gorgeous,” I snarled at Ari as I walked to the door.

“So touchy,” I heard Ari say right before the door closed behind me.

But I forgot about everything else when I saw Sloane leaning against the wall a little down the hall, looking adorably awkward about being there.

She saw me, and a small, sexy smile slid across her lips.

“Hi, Calloway,” I murmured as I brushed a kiss against her mouth. “You in love with me yet?”

She huffed. “I’m sorry you lost, Logan,” she said sweetly, ignoring what I’d asked. Her voice came out breathy and sexy after our kiss.

“Mmm. Me too. But I know one thing that will make me feel better.”

“What’s that?”

“You,” I told her. With that, I wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her toward the exit that led out to the parking lot.

It was time to show Sloane Calloway that she was…mine.