by Mignon Mykel
On another note, you have an amazing talent that I cannot wait to watch grow as you move from AHL to NHL, as I’m sure you want from your career. I look forward to watching your career grow.
-Ryleigh Scott
I turned the paper over, re-read it, then re-read it again, sure that I missed something. When I realized I really hadn’t missed anything, I dropped the note and let it flutter down to land on my stomach.
Hmm.
That was… different.
There wasn’t a come on. Ok, yeah, sure, there was the gorgeous remark, I thought with a quick smirk, but she barely touched that before running from the thought.
I thought back to when the note was passed to me from a willowy blonde and the words she spoke. The blonde could have probably been labeled as my type, if it hadn’t been for the rock on her hand.
She’s ridiculously shy.
That’s right. To be honest, though, I caught on to that a few weeks ago.
You see, I knew who this Ryleigh was. I hadn’t known her name, but I knew who she was. Whenever my eyes scanned the crowd, they always found her. Sometimes she’d be looking at me only to look away quickly, a blush on her face, but other times she’d be talking to those around her.
If the note accomplished anything, it was that it left me more confused. The note was pretty much to the point. But then again, what was the point? I’d been told I was cocky in more words than Ryleigh used.
I could concur with the not a puck bunny stance, that was for damn sure. The label was thrown on girls who liked to plump up their tits and flirt, with the end goal of going to bed. Ryleigh was often in baggy sweatshirts… not saying anything bad about baggy sweatshirts.
Without warning, my mind took her out of her baggy sweatshirt and put her in one of mine. Sans pants.
With her brown hair falling around her shoulders.
Damn.
Confused. That’s what I was. I guess I could be thankful that the note was short and sweet, but I almost would have rather it’d been the same old, same old. That, at least, I knew I could deal with.
With that, I reached about my head to turn off the light, letting out a deep sigh.
So much for sleeping.
Chapter Two
“Shoot.” I sat up from my computer. “Shoot, shoot, shoot the damn puck!”
Rather than going through the photos I needed to edit of my cousins, I was listening to the Enforcers game streaming over the internet. After last night’s game at home, the team really needed a win. If they didn’t step it up soon, playoffs would be completely scratched off their agenda.
…but come on already.
It was hardly ten minutes into the first period and the Enforcers managed to rack up a total of twenty penalty minutes, all of which belonged to major fighting penalties. I guess looking on the bright side Denton Whalers had the same amount of penalty minutes… for the most part.
The Enforcers were the type of team that when one man was busy getting his fight on, another was on the side making snide comments to some of the other players. Therefore, not only did we have a man in the box for fighting, we also had a man in the box for instigating, putting the Enforcers down a man on ice.
It sure would be nice for them to play an entire period with all six men. Our penalty kill wasn’t all that great most of the time.
Yes, I said ‘we’ and ‘our’ as if I were a part of the team.
I tried turning my attention back to the minimized window containing the photos I was editing, but no sooner than I filled the window, the announcer came back from the short break, “We’re coming back from break, and oh! Denton scores. There’s only ten seconds left in this first period.”
Before I could groan a response, the announcer came back through the airwaves, his voice a bit too giddy for my liking.
“And look. There’s Jason Thompson. He’s going after Michael Vess and oh. Thompson throws a hook. Vess is getting his hits in. Gloves are off, helmets flying. Thompson’s down on the ice. Noah Prescott skates in to help his teammate, pulling Vess back…”
I threw my hands up in the air, exasperated.
Where the hell did they think they were? A wrestling match? A few fights were fine. In fact, they made the game really exciting. But at this rate, this was going to be a four hour game.
The announcer came back, same annoyingly enthusiastic tone to his voice. “Looks like for Denton, we have Vess going in for a major, five minutes for fighting. For Beloit, Thompson is going in for a major, five minutes for fighting. Prescott is going in for roughing, two minutes.”
“Damn it.”
It could be worse. Caine Paden had a mouth on him and I wouldn’t put it past number eighteen to throw a few foul words to the linesmen or ref. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he shot off some wiseass words to the other bench on his way back to his own, starting yet another fight.
Thankfully, none of this happened.
With the momentary lapse in excitement coming from the game, I turned back to the pictures, hoping the game turned brighter.
Hell, it had nowhere to go but up.
There was less than minute left on the clock.
I glanced down the bench toward Coach before looking back out at the ice. When Coach didn’t appear to want to give any direction, I kept my focus on Thompson.
When he glanced back at the bench, I took my cue for the change and stood, my hip sliding over the board so one skate was on the outside, ready to jump out when the time came. In one quick motion, Thompson skated in and I jumped the boards, heading toward the net. I placed myself near the crease so if the puck came, I could easily give it a ride home.
My eyes searched Denton’s zone. Kyle Connor had the puck. A quick slap shot sent the puck beautifully to Troy Walters just as Connor was slammed back into the boards. I moved myself back slightly as Walters slapped the puck with a fierceness that caused the puck to go up and roll along the dasher of the boards, falling neatly at my feet. It couldn’t have happened any perfectly.
Just as I was being cornered, I used my stick to slide the puck from between my opponent’s skates, careful to not be called out for it. With a quick weave, I skated around one of Denton’s forwards and like an artist at his easel, tipped the puck into the net.
All but for the noise of the cheers and slapping of sticks from the Beloit bench, the arena was silent. A nearly unison groan and ‘boos’ waved around the arena just as the final buzzer went off, simultaneously with the buzz of the goal.
We did it.
In a terrible streak of loses, we found out feet.
It was about damn time.
Chapter Three
“Auntie Ry…” Sage asked from her perch on my hip five days later. While I wasn’t technically the three year old’s aunt, being so close to Savannah dubbed me aunt status the moment Sage was born. “Why’s we have my skates?”
She had asked the question as if we hadn’t been through this multiple times tonight, I thought with a smile. The game ended on a positive note, 2-0. It was the first shut-out of the year as well as Teague Ketterhagen’s first of his career.
And it put our winning streak up to four in a row.
After the winning Denton game, they played another game there the following night, as well as a game in Austin the day following that. Following a day break from traveling, the team had shown up tonight rested and like a whole new team.
The team was really good about staying positive on nights they hosted post-skates with the kids, but I’m sure it helped that they won tonight. It was rather sweet to watch the big, tough hockey players wave their gloved hands at the five year old pressed again the Plexiglas, or skate around the ice with the eight year olds in jerseys much too big for them.
“We have your skates because we’re going to skate with the players.”
“Really?” Sage’s eyes grew wide, bright as bluebells. “Like that one time?”
Smile growing, I mimicked her. “Really!”
“I’m exci
ted,” Sage stated matter-of-factly with a nod to her little blond head.
I had also started the day excited, but the closer we got down the stairs and to the ice, the more I was regretting this. This wasn’t our first time doing a post-skate, no, but after the note-passing… I often found myself regretting many things, and that was simply one of the latest.
Once down in the general meeting area, I set Sage down on a bench and took both her and my skates from over my shoulder. As I went to put one of Sage’s skates on her little feet, her hand shot out in front of my line of view.
“Let me do it.”
“Sage, honey, I want to be sure that it’s on tight enough.”
“Let me do it,” she repeated with determination in her eyes.
With a sigh, I sat back on my heels and handed the skate to Miss Independent. Tongue in cheek, Sage struggled to pull it on. At least she had it on the right foot. Sage allowed me to tie the laces, but held out her little hand for the second skate. I was in the process of handing it to her when I quickly glanced over my shoulder and saw Noah walking near, in what appeared to be gym clothes and running shoes. Completely caught off guard, I dropped the skate to the ground.
“Auntie Ryleigh!” Sage called me out.
I’m pretty sure my face turned twenty shades of red. It was, after all, a look I managed to perfect. I didn’t bother looking to see if Noah was still around. In fact, I prayed really hard that he wasn’t.
Again, Sage spoke. Quietly this time, thank the good Lord. “Auntie Ryleigh, everyone’s leaving to the ice.”
Nodding, I snapped out of it and picked up the skate. “Let Auntie Ryleigh put your skate on, honey.”
“Don’t drop it this time,” came a male voice, leaving the arena.
“That was number twenty-free,” Sage stage-whispered, eyes wide. She was obviously star-struck.
I laced up her skate, grateful the voice hadn’t belonged to number eleven.
Now, had I been a smartass…
Ok, honestly? I have quite the smartass streak. You just haven’t had the opportunity to see it yet. I kept that closeted.
If I had the guts to say the smartass comment, I would have told Jason Thompson, or “Number twenty-free” as Sage called him, that perhaps next time he wanted to wrestle, he should consider a wrestling or martial arts league. Hey, MMA was all the rage.
I forced a smile up at Sage’s patient face. “Ok, we’re ready.”
Sage, however, felt the need to point out the obvious. “You didn’t put your skates on, Auntie Ryleigh.”
“You are absolutely correct,” I said, hiding a sign. Adults were usually permitted on the ice without skates. Seeing as I had them and was called out on it… I sat down on the bench next to Sage and peeled off my shoes, replacing them with my own old, used hockey skates. A decent garage sale buy if you asked me. “Are we ready now?” I asked, a teasing smile on my face.
Sage smiled wide and nodded. “Yes!”
Sage may have been ready, but I on the other hand?
I was far from it.
I loved these post-skates. Nothing was better than skating around the rink with the kids. The joy on their faces was priceless. Some just wanted to skate with you. Others just wanted to skate on a professional rink.
Whatever the reason, the smiles and laughs these kids brought out always brought a smile to my face.
Call me a sap if you want. But I’m willing to bet most athletes loved these things.
One of our booster club president’s daughters came up to me and held her arms up.
“Can I skate with you?”
I knew Juliet and therefore I knew what she was really asking. Grinning, I leaned down to lift the five year old up over my shoulders. The booster club was like an extended family, and the kids were all honorary nieces and nephews to the guys.
“Watch your blades,” I told her, the usual warning I gave her before looking for her mother. When I spotted Maryan, I nodded up in her direction once for the usual ok, which I received in her wave. She had been watching her youngest while carrying a conversation with the coach’s wife and a few other booster club members but now turned her full attention back to them.
“You ready?”
Juliet giggled and grasped my hands as tight as she could.
“One… two…”
“Three!” she shrieked just as I took off in a speed skate to the other goal line, coasting across the back and heading back the other direction, the entire time her sweet giggles making me grin.
Just as I was slowing, though, she squeezed my hands once more. “One more time, please? Please, Noah?”
“Just one more, Jules. You can’t hog all my attention,” I joked with her before heading around one last time.
Once we came to a slow stop, I lifted her back over my head and put her down gently on the ice. “Don’t tease your brother,” I told her. She liked to hold these things over her eight year old brother’s head.
She laughed but whatever she said was lost on me as I pulled my attention up toward the tunnel, where my gaze snagged on Ryleigh and the little girl she always had with her.
Her niece, I think?
My attention always seemed to be drawn to her, and I didn’t know why.
And then that note? I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to talk to her, ignore her…?
“Noah!” Juliet said, tugging on my hand.
“Sorry, Jules. What’s up?”
“Justin’s sick,” she said, referring to the eight year old brother I mentioned. “Can you sign something for him, make him feel better?”
“Sure thing, sweets.”
After insistence from Maryan that I really didn’t have to sign something, he had plenty, I grabbed a puck and signed it in silver marker, wishing him better. I handed it to Maryan, who smiled graciously, before heading back to the middle of the ice.
Where Caine was ice dancing.
The man couldn’t dance, and here he was doing some sideways lawnmower move. With a chuckle, I slide to a stop in front of him. “Hey, white boy. Leave the dancing for the girls.”
“He’s terrible, right?” Nick Kolak said as he slid to a stop beside me.
“I’m better than you two. You and your sprinkler, Nick, need to go back to the sixties.”
“Those are not dance moves.” I held my hands out in front of me and, after being sure no little eyes were in our direction, did a slow grind with the imaginary woman in front of me. Maybe I thought of Ryleigh and her soft hips.
I’m not ‘fessing up.
“How’s the blow up doll like those moves?” Caine said with both his brows lifted.
“Screw you.” It held no heat with the laugh.
“So about that letter…” Nick said slowly.
Yeah, I told them about it. These two and Teague were not only my roommates, but three of my good friends.
“What about it?”
Nick just looked over my shoulder, nodding up once. When he looked back, Caine leaned to look past my shoulder before a shit-eating grin plastered his face. I looked over my shoulder, having a feeling Ryleigh was behind us, and sure shit, there she was, her niece beside her as they talked to Teague.
I noticed her in the maroon tunic and white jeans the few times she would stand during the game, but the view from here, only fifteen or so feet away, was much better.
She was probably average height and what could probably be considered average build by today’s standards. She had a sweet hour glass figure that wasn’t really evident in the baggy styled shirt, but her hips and ass were definitely noticeable.
Before I could sport wood, I turned back toward my boys, but not quite fast enough to miss her looking back over her shoulder at us.
“What of it?”
“Why don’t you just talk to her? You two make eyes at each other all the damn time.” This was from Nick.
From Caine was, “My favorite is during warm ups. Dude, you used to stretch on that side of the ice, but now you stretch on the ot
her side so you can see her while you’re down in a butterfly stretch. It’s sad, man.”
“Hey, now,” I said, my hands up as I started a slow skate backward. “I’m figuring out the best move.”
“Sure, man, sure,” Caine said with a cocky grin.
With a sly middle finger salute in front of me, I turned to skate away. Ryleigh never turned, but the little girl did. When she waved, I waved back.
Cute kid.
One last lap around, and I headed back to the lockers.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I was trying to figure out the best first move. Or if a move was worth it.
But a woman who consistently snagged my attention? She was probably worth it.
Chapter Four
Sage sat in her booster seat in the back of my baby, my brand new white Kia Rio. With her little blonde head tilted to her shoulder, she slept heavily. In just a few laps around the ice, Sage managed a number of autographs. Lucky for me, not a single one of those was Noah’s. If Sage had wanted it, I would have put on my big girl panties and we could have gone over to him, but Sage never brought up number eleven.
So neither did I.
That did not stop me from glancing at him from time to time. Occasionally in those times, I caught Noah’s stare on me too and for whatever reason, that left me unsettled. I couldn’t fathom what he would be thinking when looking at me. Of course, my mind went to that crazy stupid note I let Savannah talk me into writing.
I was a grown woman. I’m twenty-three years old, dammit; I should be able to talk to a guy without feeling like a twelve year old at a One Direction concert. But my goodness, just remembering the few glances he slid toward me made my heart pound.
The one instance that stood out the most from tonight bothered me a little. Noah was at the center ice mark talking with Nick Kolak and Caine Paden when one by one they glanced in my direction. Maybe it was my general direction, but I could definitely feel their stares. I really didn’t think they were looking at Teague Ketterhagen.