Chapter 6
MASCOT PATROL
Ivy
I gape at the dirty texter who stands frozen in the doorway of the equipment room, a purple furball of a costume in his big arms. “What are you doing here, and why are you bringing me Blob?”
I’m praying he says, I’m here from Mascot Patrol to seize this costume on account of it being hideous.
But Hayes stares back like he can’t believe his bad luck, either, “You work here too?”
Too. I deflate. There goes my hope he’s the Mascot Patrol.
“You play hockey?” That explains why he has all those muscles. Why his chest is so broad. Why he’s the height of a tree.
Of all the jobs in the city, why does my hot neighbor have to work with…me?
Having answered my own question, I answer his. “I’m the new Avengers mascot. You’re…?”
“Hayes Armstrong. I was just traded here from LA,” he says, tone as flat as the fur on Blob.
“I didn’t know you were a hockey player.”
“And I didn’t know you were a…mascot.” His gaze drifts to the heap of material in his hands.
Before I can launch into the whole story of how I became the mascot, approaching footsteps and voices from the corridor grow louder, and I glance around for an alternative location to continue this personal chat.
Hayes shifts the costume to one arm and pushes open the door to the equipment room. Then he sets that hand on my shoulder and spins me around. “In there,” he says in a firm voice.
He’s got a firm touch too. He slides his free hand down my spine as he guides me. His hand is big and strong.
Hayes follows me inside and kicks the door closed.
He flicks on the light and strides deeper into the room where there’s an empty shelf labeled Mascot Costume with masking tape and marker.
He looks stupidly good in those jeans, and his T-shirt that shamelessly hugs his biceps and shows off his trim stomach.
I can’t stop watching his ass, his back, his legs as he advances past a wall of sticks to set the blob of fake fur in its place.
I’m supposed to try that on and then join the Avengers Ice Crew in ten minutes for our own practice. But I want to sort out this whole mess first.
As Hayes returns to me, his eyes lock on my face. I back up against the concrete wall, needing something for stability, something to rest against under the weight of his lusty stare.
I’m pretty sure this turn of events means putting a lid on the flirting, yet he doesn’t look like a man who wants to stop dirty texting me.
Then, in a heartbeat, he seems to shift gears, shaking off the desire. “This would be a bad idea,” he says, resigned.
“A very bad one,” I echo in the same tone.
He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “The universe has a funny sense of humor.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Shame. You have a pretty laugh.”
“I thought you said this was a bad idea,” I say, but I suppose I’m not stopping either.
“I did say that. But you still have a pretty laugh. And,” he says, his gaze meeting mine, “beautiful eyes.”
My skin tingles. His compliments are so simple, but so welcome. My ex doled out compliments like a miser. “So are your star tattoos. Beautiful, that is.”
He lifts a brow. “You noticed.”
“Well, I spent a lot of time with that picture.”
His smile is deservedly smug. Leaning closer, he parks his right hand on the wall behind my head, pinning me but not quite pinning me. I’m almost caged in. “There’s no point in keeping this to myself now. You should know I was absolutely planning on asking you out tonight,” he says.
The tingles become full-blown sparks. “You were?”
“Yes.”
I’m giddy hearing it, especially when he adds, “I definitely wanted to see you again.”
“Same,” I admit, still feeling fizzy. But there are probably rules or at least guidelines against a workplace romance.
We’d need to tell HR or something. Both of us are new here.
Is a date worth it? I don’t know, especially when the Ice Crew members are supposed to be brand ambassadors for the team.
Pretty sure hooking up with a player is not the fan engagement skills they want in a mascot.
Blinking off the haze of lust, I stand taller, then circle back to the first question—the you’re the team mascot one. Does he think I misled him last night about my job situation? Maybe he thought I was flexing.
“About the mascot thing. I landed this job today, but it’s just a stopgap. I work in fashion, and I started up all my social channels this morning, and a newsletter. I used to write about fashion in college on my own blog, and now I’m just doing it again as a freelancer and on social.”
Do I sound defensive? I hope I don’t sound defensive.
Hayes lets go of the wall, holds up his hand like it’s all good. “I didn’t doubt you. I was just surprised. It’s not exactly a job anyone can get. Especially in hockey.”
I tense, the echo of Xander’s constant mascot jokes ringing in my ears. He’d always teased me about having been one. He’d even said when I got the job with Simone that I was leaving my little mascot days behind me and finally growing up. “I was one in college,” I explain tightly.
Yep, that definitely sounds defensive. I don’t like men belittling me. Heard enough of it as a kid when my dad did it to my mom. Heard so much of it I decided to protect my little sister so she wouldn’t hear it too.
Hayes’s brown eyes sparkle with laughter. “That’s pretty cool.”
Okay. Maybe he’s not like Xander. Still, we’re going nowhere, and probably not even to the wedding now. “I guess I need another date for the wedding,” I say with a sigh.
He seems to give it some thought. “You’re my neighbor.”
“Right.”
“We met in the elevator.”
“True,” I say, as it becomes clear he’s telling the public story.
“You told me what happened with your shitty, no-good ex and your terrible boss. I offered to go.” He gives a no big deal shrug. “So that’s that. It’s platonic. I’ll take you to the wedding as your new neighbor.”
Platonic is officially my least favorite word as it relates to this man, but I get it. And I appreciate the extra descriptors for Xander and Simone. A lot. “Are you sure? I can go solo. I don’t want to cause problems,” I say.
“I made a promise. I keep my promises. I’m a nice guy.”
I hear the echo of Jackson’s comment. Nice guys are never any good in the bedroom. The bedroom’s not an option, but I can’t resist one little flirty remark. “Will you be a nice guy at the wedding?”
Hayes’s smile is confident. Strong. “If being a nice guy means no one will know what I really want, then yes.”
I have to know. “What do you really want?”
With his eyes on me, Hayes takes his time, leaning in close then closer still. He runs his nose along my neck, slowly, sensually, lighting up every inch of my skin. “I want to see you slide those fingers between your thighs like you did this morning after I sent that picture.”
“Oh,” I gasp, as my thighs clench and my stomach swoops.
“Is that what you did, Ivy?”
He can read my thoughts so easily. It’s such a thrill. “Yes.”
“I thought so,” he says, as he pulls back, looking far too pleased.
The air between us is charged, and we hold each other’s gazes for a hot second. But there’s a rap on the door.
My heart explodes. Hayes rips himself from me, jumping away. I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t be sneaking around in an equipment room. It’s the first day and I’m already going to get in trouble.
“Be right out,” Hayes says immediately, his voice still a little husky.
“This is your captain speaking.” It’s Stefan, and I relax some. “I’d like to welcome you to the Avengers arena, where we’re expecting temperatures on the ice of fucking freezing. But that’s ice for you. If the weather continues to cooperate, the new mascot should be able to practice any second.”
I breathe a big sigh of relief, so glad it’s not Oliver or the team owner demanding to know what I’ve been up to in here.
I imagine getting turned on isn’t a good answer.
“Almost ready,” I call, then hustle over to the shelf with the heap of fake fur lumped on it.
Stefan is the playful, outgoing team captain I’ve spoken with several times over the last few years when my brother played here.
The handsome Dane has ice-blue eyes, a dusting of stubble, and a panty-dropping smile, and the times I was single I would have loved to be asked on a date with him—but he also has a gorgeous fiancée from his hometown who he gave a sparkling, four-carat diamond to.
I might have noticed her ring on social media and in person when I met Annika at last year’s Christmas party.
She’s basically perfect—she speaks three languages, happens to be a brilliant young climatologist for the world’s leading think tank studying climate change, and is legit a nice person. I can’t even hate her. I just like her.
“Just trying on the costume,” I say. Like I was supposed to be doing ten minutes ago. But I’m trying it on with Hayes in the same room. That looks bad. “Over my clothes,” I add quickly.
There’s a pause, then a clearing of a throat from the other side of the door. “Well, it sounds like more fun is being had in the back of the cabin than the cockpit.”
Hayes dips his face, laughing silently into his hand, and I realize my faux pas. “Of course I’m trying it on over my clothes. That’s how you wear it.”
No wonder Xander needed a girlfriend upgrade.
“I’m sure there are many ways to wear a costume,” Stefan calls back, and he sounds…amused.
Great, I’m embarrassing myself in front of the new guy and the team captain. Real smooth, Ivy.
Hayes watches me, seeming to catalogue my every move as I wiggle into this purple furball that’s supposed to be an A but resembles more of an ink splotch.
Once I shove my arms into the costume, I tug it up to my neck, then zip it.
With Blob on—though not the head—I spin around and hold out my arms. “How do I look?”
His smile is slow and sexy. “Somehow even hotter.”
The weird thing is I believe him.
But since I don’t need to parade around the arena in a costume, I take it off, then head to the door with the costume under my arm, and my just a friendly neighbor who’s also a wedding date by my side.
When I open the door, Stefan’s shooting a casual smile my way as he runs his long fingers through his bedroom-style hair like I bet Annika did mere hours ago. His sandy-brown hair has golden streaks—like he somehow, incongruously, plays hockey in the sun—and it always makes him look freshly fucked.
It’s a good look.
The corner of his lips hook up in a grin.
He’s wearing a Henley.