Chapter 3 #2
I smiled at the distinct note of pride I detected in her voice. “What number is he?” I asked Bri.
“Forty,” she shouted back just as number fourteen slapped the puck into the net.
The crowd roared and leapt to their feet, including me. But I must have shouted a little too loudly, causing my brain to glitch, because when the camera followed number fourteen across the ice with his hockey stick held high in triumph—Zane’s face filled the screen.
No way was this elite athlete the same man I’d spit a bitter cupcake into a roadside trashcan with earlier that very day.
No. Way.
I blinked, telling myself that I must need my glasses more than I thought I did.
I rubbed my eyes for the third time, squinting at a screen that was almost as big as an Olympic-sized swimming pool.
Blinking, rubbing, and squinting didn’t make my apparition disappear.
Zane was there. On the screen. Gliding across the ice in all his sweaty glory.
Regret slapped me in the face harder than he’d smacked that puck. Why hadn’t I given him my number? Maybe Bri’s brother could hook me up? Would that scream desperation? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.
I needed to see him again—and I didn’t mean on the big screen.
The girls gathered for another round of selfies to celebrate the first Bobcat goal of the night. I smiled for the pics, but my focus was on Zane, who had gone back to work, tearing up the ice and his competition.
About an hour and a half later, the game was over, and the Bobcats had won. Hattie waved her completed scarf over the railing like the victory flag that it was.
“It never fails,” Bri said with a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s the miracle of the scarf.” We all celebrated Hattie as if she’d scored the winning goal, while the arena slowly emptied around us, marking the end of one of the most unforgettable nights of my life.
I made my way over to the cupcake table to snag a Barbie-pink cupcake decorated with sugar pearls before the cleanup crew arrived.
My lids fluttered as my teeth sank into the cake.
It was nothing like the disaster of a cupcake from earlier that day.
I wished I could stick one in my pocket and give it to Zane later.
If only Zane could be a part of my later. I sighed much more forlornly than anyone with a cheek full of sugary goodness had a right to.
“Back to your old thieving ways?”
The deep voice behind me nearly made me choke. I spun around and came face to face with Zane. I sputtered through the buttercream frosting and managed to swallow my bite with at least a little dignity intact.
I tossed my hair over my shoulder, determined to ignore the racing tempo of my heart.
“Nope. I got this one fair and square—just like the last one.” I took another bite in front of him, sounding off with a little moan of delight.
“So good,” I said. “Want some?” I batted my lashes at him, holding his gaze, and astonishing even myself at my flirting game.
Something between a chuckle and a growl rumbled around in the back of his throat. He took a step closer to me, invading my space in a way that made my insides jitter. “Is that an invitation?”
“Do you want it to be?” I asked. The air between us sizzled and popped with an electric charge greater than anything I’d felt all night.
He ran the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, his icy blue eyes roving over every inch of me and tickling the pit of my stomach. “You sure do love your cupcakes, don’t you?”
“Only when they don’t taste like grass.” I flinched inside at the words I’d just said.
Here I was, standing within arm’s reach of the most attractive man I’d ever laid my eyes on, and I was talking about grass and cupcakes?
Surely, there were better things two people like us could talk about.
Things like first dates, second dates, and wedding plans.
Wedding plans?
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head to dislodge those wildly out-of-control thoughts from my brain, promising myself that I’d only been joking.
“I brought this for you,” he said, handing his jersey to me, “for next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah, it broke my heart when I saw you weren’t wearing my number.”
“How did you even know I was here?” I unfolded his jersey and ran my tingling fingers over the number fourteen sewn onto the back.
A slow smile spread across his lips. “I have my ways.”
I gave in to a smile of my own. “Well, we can’t have you getting your heart broken, can we?” I said past the butterflies fluttering around inside me.
“Don’t worry about him,” one of the bridesmaids said as she walked by. “Zane doesn’t get his heart broken; he’s the heartbreaker.”
“Hey, Megs,” Zane said with a strained smile.
“We’re not dating anymore. It’s Megan to you.” She flashed him a salty smile without an ounce of genuine kindness before glancing over her shoulder at me. “Watch out for that one.”
Megan was Zane’s ex? Small world—a little too small for my taste. I usually found myself on “team girl” when it came to breakups, and Megan’s low opinion of Zane made my stomach drop.
“Play nice, you two,” Bri said as she walked up. She sighed. “This is why the rule exists.”
“What rule?” Zane asked.
“The rule about not dating your sister’s friends,” Bri said, throwing her arms around Zane’s neck. “Thanks for the box, big brother. This was the best wedding gift ever.”
“Anything for my baby sister,” Zane said.
My jaw dropped. Big brother? My flirty vacation crush was Bri’s brother?
I held out the jersey in front of me, reading the back.
Number fourteen. I must have misheard her earlier when I’d asked what her brother’s number was.
I gulped. Since when was my life a Daphne Rose Love romance novel, complete with an off-limits heartthrob?
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you said your brother was number forty.”
“Nope, this was his first gameday jersey when he came to town.” She pointed at the jersey she wore.
Bri’s gaze fell on the jersey in my hands.
“Mine was the only one he’d ever given away, until now.
” She shifted her focus to her brother. “Zane?” Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught her child’s hand in the cookie jar. “What are you up to?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Just making sure Wren has appropriate gameday attire.”
Bri flicked a brow, but our conversation was interrupted by a woman in a sharp blazer hustling a group of photographers into the box. She reached a hand out to shake Bri’s hand. “I’m Vivi, PR manager for the Bobcats. How was your night?”
Our party gushed about our experience in the box.
“That’s what I love to hear. How about a few pictures for the press? I’d love to make it onto the morning segments tomorrow. Who wouldn’t love a story about a pro hockey player gifting his little sister a bachelorette party at the game? Goodness knows, Zane’s reputation could use the help.”
Zane’s reputation needed help? My stomach sank again.
We came together for another round of pictures.
This time, Zane slipped in beside me and draped his arm around my shoulders.
I froze. Cameras flashed. My cheeks heated—hyper-aware of Zane’s warm body next to mine.
Wren Penrose on the news? That didn’t happen.
Thank goodness Vacation Wren had taken over because Bookstore Wren would have had a panic attack right about then.
Vivi left with her fleet of cameramen as quickly as she’d arrived and the girls in our party headed for the limo. “I guess I’d better get going,” I said. “I don’t want to get left behind.”
“Take this.” He put a folded-up napkin in my hand. “It’s for Percy. Gotta give the fans what they want, right?” he said, walking backwards with his arms splayed wide.
I opened the napkin and found a pile of beef jerky inside.
My heart melted a little. Any man who was so thoughtful toward a dog had to be a decent guy, right?
I looked down at the napkin again and my chest flushed when I saw a note scrawled on it: Call me, cupcake thief.
He’d included the number I’d been prepared to beg for earlier that night. But I was suddenly leery of calling it.
Megan’s reaction to him and Bri’s tone when she’d seen his jersey in my hands had made me realize that there was a lot about Zane that I didn’t know. Vivi’s mystery comment about his reputation had been the icing on the cupcake.
Learning about someone was usually the most exciting part about meeting someone new.
But somehow Zane’s unknowns felt scarier.
What if he was a player in more ways than just hockey and I was nothing more than the newest game in town?
Maybe I’d been right about my original “no-strings” method of dealing with Zane’s charm.
“See you tomorrow,” he called out from down the concourse.
The rehearsal, right. Zane was sure to be there. I smiled, quieting my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at his number again before folding the napkin and shoving it into my purse. “See ya.” I turned to walk in the opposite direction and catch up with my group.
“It’s not that serious, Wren,” I said under my breath as I quickened my pace.
It didn’t matter how much crushing on my friend’s brother made my life feel like a romance novel.
This was real life, not a book. And even if my life were a book, Zane was nothing more than a side plot.
A here today, gone tomorrow character that wasn’t destined to be a part of my happily ever after.
How did I know that?
“Professional athletes don’t date girls like me—girls like the real me,” I answered my own question, and it was freeing.
If he wasn’t serious about me, there was no reason for me to worry about his past. Zane was having a little fun just like I was.
And the best way to keep it fun was to keep things light, flirty, and temporary.
As soon as I delivered Zane’s gift to Percy, I’d be tossing that napkin in the trash. I’d been wrong earlier; I didn’t need it.