Three Hockey Hotties

1. Kane

KANE

Are there better ways to meet the love of your life than nearly breaking her nose with a door?

Without a fucking doubt.

Yet this has to be fate.

And who am I to argue with the universe?

I mean, why else would the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen just be standing on the other side of the door I’m walking through at this very moment? Especially a door that never has anyone standing on the other side of it?

This door is on the side of the building that houses our ice hockey rink and is the closest to the locker rooms. Only the players and coaches use this door.

I also would not have chosen, “Oh shit, sorry!” to be my first words to the woman I intend to marry someday.

But here we are.

I reach out and grab her elbow, steadying her as she rocks back on her heels to avoid the heavy metal door that nearly clocked her in the face.

“Are you okay?” I ask quickly.

Eyes the color of the water around the island of St. Thomas lock on mine and I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.

Fuck, I love St. Thomas. I’ve never seen water that blue or that gorgeous.

I’ve met a lot of beautiful women in my life.

A lot. And someday when I’m a professional hockey player and not just the starting forward on this minor league team in Willow Bay, Wisconsin, there will be even more.

But I know that as of this moment, none of them will matter.

These are the eyes I want to look into for the rest of my life.

This woman is who I’ve been waiting for. She’s my destiny.

When I tell Benjamin and Dash, they’re going to say I’m being dramatic. But that won’t be the first or last time they say that. And when they find out that I’m in love, they’ll give me a break.

Maybe.

She still hasn’t spoken, so I squeeze her elbow gently. “Did I hit you?”

Surely not. I would’ve felt the impact if the door actually smacked her.

She clears her throat and shakes her head. “I’m okay.”

Hearing her voice for the first time, I feel like she trailed her hand down my spine. All of the nerve endings in my body sit up, fully awake and alert.

She’s still staring at me, somewhat dazed, and while I would love to think it’s because she recognizes me and is starstruck, I can’t shake the niggle of concern and the accompanying surge of protectiveness.

I suddenly need to see her smile more than I need to take my breath. “Are you sneaking in the players’ door to find me? And before you answer, know that saying yes will make me the happiest man on the planet.”

Those blue eyes widen even further, and she tears her gaze away from mine to scan over the side of the building.

“Am I not allowed to go in this door? I was supposed to meet everyone on the side of the building.”

“Well, this is the entrance to the locker room. Like I said, if you’re trying to get to see me, this is the right door.”

She shakes her head quickly and looks slightly panicked. I definitely don’t get the smile that I need.

“No, no. I’m sorry, I’m in the wrong place. I’m here to prep for the Stick It To Cancer event.”

I smile at the mention of one of my favorite events our team participates in. The cancer charity and this specific event that involves the hockey team and little kids with cancer is near and dear to both my and my stepbrother’s heart.

“Oh, well that’s not happening for a few weeks.”

She shakes her head. “Yes, I know. I’m one of the organizers. We're supposed to meet here today to check out the arena and figure out how we’re going to set everything up for the actual event.”

Now she looks even more distressed than she was when I almost broke her nose.

Instinctively, I draw her closer, needing to comfort her. “Got it,” I tell her. “It’s a great event. And you’re fine coming in this door. We’re pretty informal around here.”

If she was at the arena for our professional team, the Racketeers, down in Chicago, it would be a different thing, of course. But, while we’re in the top three of our league, and our fans are super enthusiastic, we don’t have the same security concerns the pros do.

I notice that she does not try to pull away from me, and I like that probably more than I should. I’m a total stranger to her and part of me wants to lecture her about being too friendly with strange men.

But I get the impression she wouldn’t let just anyone get this close.

She blinks up at me, and I think these eyes are going to get her anything she wants from me forever.

And that’s just a part of her stunning beauty. She’s the type of woman that walks into a room and everyone notices her. But…I don’t think she notices them noticing her.

I don’t know why I have that impression, but she just exudes sweetness and girl-next-door vibes.

She’s dressed in a loose pink sweater that buttons up the front.

It’s paired with flowy pink striped linen pants and pink sneakers.

She’s got simple thin gold bangle bracelets on one wrist, a gold watch on the other, and she’s carrying a water bottle that matches all the pink perfectly.

She’s barely got any makeup on. Maybe some lip gloss making her lush pink lips shine. And she smells like strawberries.

She reminds me of pink candy—maybe a strawberry lollipop that needs sucking and licking from head to toe—and I definitely want a taste.

I just know she’ll be so damn sweet.

And pink everywhere…

Her long wavy, dark blonde hair falls to the curve of her lower back and is streaked with lighter blonde and a few brown strands.

I want to sit and study it, counting the different colors.

I also want to run my fingers through it.

And wrap it around my fist and tip her head back so I can run my nose up her throat and breathe in her sweet scent before settling my lips against her mouth that’s parted right now as she breathes quickly.

I take a breath and work on easing what is probably an intense expression. I don’t do intense. I am well known to be happy-go-lucky, the life of the party.

I am the face of the team, the player that fans and followers most often see on the team’s social media accounts, and the billboards around town. I also take center ice whenever we do something with kids and yes, charity events.

What can I say? I love the spotlight, and it loves me.

I also have a great smile, thank you very fucking much.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice a little breathless now. “My event team will be here soon. We’re supposed to meet outside on the west side.”

I like that too. I want to hear her breathless again and again.

“Well, this is the east side,” I tell her with a smile.

Her eyes widen. “What?” She looks around. Then groans. “Dammit.” She shakes her head. “I guess that explains why they’re not here. I’ll just…go to the other side,” she says, waving in the general direction of the parking lot.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” I tell her, giving her a little grin. “You can get to the east side of the building by going through the building too.”

“But I’m probably not supposed to be in here without my team,” she says.

“Oh, you’ve got something better,” I tell her, tugging her even closer. She takes the step without hesitation. Yeah, I fucking like that. “You’ve got me.”

Her cheeks get a little pink and I love it.

Her general aura is sweet, and that blush tells me that she’s not a sassy flirt.

“Well, that’s very nice of you,” she says. “But I don’t want to bother you. You were obviously leaving.”

I don’t know much, including her name, but in that moment, I know absolutely without question that I cannot let this girl go. Not yet. Maybe not at all.

That is, I’ll admit, a strange thought to have about someone I met less than five minutes ago, but it is strong and clear in my head as I look at her.

I need to keep her with me. And I need to help her with whatever she needs.

“Come on. Let’s go see if we can find your group.”

The fact that she lets me tug her through the doorway and into the back hallway of the arena makes a strange surge of heat go through me.

I’m not particularly possessive about women.

I typically don’t date women long enough to feel like they ‘belong’ to me or like they’re even, what I would call a girlfriend, if I’m honest. I have a good time, and then I say goodbye, always making sure it’s amicable and that they have great memories.

And they will say nice things about me when they talk about me in the future.

But long-term is two or three months. Benjamin calls them flings.

He also says he doesn’t judge me for them, but he’s lying.

I’m not really sure what the difference is between what he does and what I do, except his last longer. We’re both monogamous with the women we date. He just sticks with one for several months—one was almost a year—where mine are a lot shorter, and I try to avoid major holidays.

I look down at the woman walking next to me and I suddenly want to buy her birthday, Valentine’s Day, and Christmas gifts.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Abby,” she says. “Abigail. But my friends call me Abby.”

“Then I definitely want to call you Abby. Until I can come up with a nickname anyway,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, almost startled. “You’re going to come up with a nickname for me?”

“For sure. A sweet pet name. Something only I’ll call you,” I tell her.

I still don’t get a smile. She simply seems confused.

“Why would you do that?” she asks.

“Because I like the idea of having something that’s just for the two of us,” I tell her.

“Like when we’re out on dates. Or when I’m texting you.

Or when we’re at a charity event.” I give her a wink.

“It’ll make you feel special, and make sure all the other men around know that we’re more than friends. ”

She trips slightly, over nothing, and my hand shoots out to cup her elbow again. I am very grateful for whatever made her stumble. My hand was itching to touch her. I don’t let go once she’s steady, and she doesn’t pull away.