16. Chapter Sixteen #2
She leaned over the bench, stretching up on her tiptoes to snatch my blue-haired friend down from the shelf.
“Joonie,” she breathed loud enough only I heard her.
Her fingers clenched around the little doll until the tips of her fingers glowed white.
Something in her tone, a sudden tension, an unexpected vulnerability, set the skin between my shoulder blades to tingling.
“Joonie,” I echoed, my eyes narrowing. “He an actor or something?”
Her lower lip plumped, a delicate pout that had me rubbing the back of my neck. As attracted as I was to this woman, I couldn’t afford the distraction. I had responsibilities now. Important ones. I didn’t have time to explore the tenderness she stirred.
She clutched the figurine against her chest, her other hand shooting out to point at me like a schoolmarm scolding a naughty child. “You stay out of my office, Shep Landon. I won him back fair and square.”
Zacha’s laughter boomed as the guys howled. We were putting on a show for the team and I couldn’t help my grin. More of a show for Merri, I suspected. The edges of her smile looked frayed, the corners of her eyes too tight. What was the deal with “Joonie”?
“Here’s the thing, Merri.” Taft chimed in from his spot across the room. “Landon’s scored every game he’s had your Funko Pop.”
She turned, taking in the room, my teammates nodding and grinning.
Novak held up his English dictionary, the same one he’d guarded since leaving the Czech Republic a decade ago.
Dog-eared, the cover barely holding on, but a constant presence on game days.
He shook the book now. “If it helps us win, we must negotiate.”
Her eyes popped wide, green sparkling in a mix of surprise and laughter.
The tightness dripped from her shoulders and the corners of her eyes.
Pink flooded her cheeks. I wanted to cuddle her close and discover how to make the tension disappear.
I wanted to shield her from my boys until her smile knitted back together and the spark returned to her eyes.
But I didn’t have the right.
Especially if I’d had a hand in stealing it in the first place.
“But he’s my Pop!”
“Maybe we can buy it from you?” The suggestion came from AB, our third line winger.
The man had more grit in his little finger than most players had in their entire body.
No off switch. Locker room gossip said he spent the summer break partying in Ibiza.
Who goes to Ibiza? Alex Bouchard, that’s who, living the Kardashian life.
“Can’t do it, guys.” Merri wagged her head, her copper-penny curls bouncing. “I want him to score as much as you do, but this Pop is super special to me. He’s not replaceable.”
“How about you give him a chance to win the Pop for the next game? We can set up another competition. How about Saturday, at the water park?” Novak asked, the resident negotiator.
“I’m not betting Joonie. Nope. No can do, guys.”
An edge entered her voice, a subtle shift I recognized instantly. I’d made a study of Merri Wylie since meeting her, devouring every new facet she revealed—every word she spoke, every tone of voice, every flicker of expression. The edge in her voice put tension in my own shoulders.
“How about just for the game?” I countered, hoping to entice her back to her playful self. “I’ll play ya for the right to rent your Joonie come game time.” What kind of name was Joonie for a doll, anyway? A sudden thought jarred me. Had an ex given it to her?
“Rent?” Her eyes narrowed on me, suspicion swirling in the emerald depths. “Rent him to you on game days?”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not keen to let him travel, though. What if he gets lost? Baggage handlers aren’t known for their gentle touch.”
“He traveled in my carry-on this last road trip. No harm came to him. Or you can hold on to him until the pre-game meeting and pass him over then. You wouldn’t want the team to go without my goals, would you?”
“You sound ridiculous. You’re turning my Funko Pop into some kind of game day ritual.”
I laughed as Zacha snorted again and the rest of the guys hooted. I did sound ridiculous. And she wasn’t wrong. If I believed in game day rituals, this could be a problem. I just didn’t want to foul up the mojo.
No need to question it too deeply.
Novak held up his dictionary again. “Not superstitious, Merri. It’s called being prepared.”
“Right,” AB chimed in. “Just your average stitious. Not super.”
She rolled her eyes and headed back to where the coaches stood, a cluster of focused intensity in the chaos of a post-game win. A few minutes later, they were heading into the hall when Novak called after her, “I’ll text you the time tomorrow, Merri.”
Something ignited in my chest, a spark of possessiveness burning a path right to where my hand rolled into a fist. Novak had a wife.
He’d never seemed interested in other women, but what did I really know about the man?
Merri was gorgeous, intelligent, and obviously knew more about hockey than the average Jane.
Maybe she was too tempting for him to resist, too.
Zacha clapped a hand to my back, his voice a low rumble. “Sit down, brácha. He invited everyone tomorrow. Wives and girlfriends, friends and family. We’re all headed to the water park out west of town.”
Right. Memory kicked in. I’d already intended to go, prove my aqua dominance. Hannah would have a blast if I could talk Shy into coming. But now? Nothing on earth would keep me away.