by S. R. Grey
I snort. “It takes this much energy?”
Ooh, he doesn’t like that.
“You know, Cricket, I’m seriously reconsidering whether I really do want to go out with such a smartass.”
Mouth falling open—this guy!—I narrow my eyes at him. “Oh, you, you—”
“Yes? Are you upset to hear I may not want to go out with you after all? I bet you are, seeing as you seem pretty damn excited at the prospect of going out with me.”
I literally growl at him then. “Grrr…”
He makes me so mad.
Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go out on a date with him.
We may kill each other.
But, damn, he is gorgeous.
“I’m waiting,” he says.
Ugh, how did this get turned around onto me?
And with the realization that I’m losing my own game, I give up.
“That’s it!” I throw my hands in the air. “You know what? Just forget it. There will be no date. Not now, not ever!”
Huffing loudly, I start to skate far, far away from Landen Zehner.
Too bad I can’t skate right off the stupid ice.
Mixing Shit Up
After huffing at me, Cricket skates off.
What a feisty little vixen.
She shouldn’t have messed with me, though.
Still, I like this game.
But more than that, I like her.
I’m glad we get to spend the next couple of hours together.
I think she just realized that, by the way.
Smirking, I watch as she abruptly stops at center ice.
Yeah, babe, you still have a job to do…with me.
Slowly, she turns around.
Our eyes meet, and I smile sweetly at her.
See, I can be nice.
And here she comes, skating back over to me, albeit reluctantly.
I suppose that’s because I upped her at her own snarky game.
Hey, if she can’t stand the heat, she should stay out of the hot kitchen.
Or off the cold ice, as the case may be.
Whatever.
When she reaches me, I can’t help but blurt out, “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.”
Holding up her hand, she takes a really deep breath. “Just shut up, okay?”
I laugh.
Wow, now she’s really glaring at me.
“Aww, don’t be mad,” I say consolingly. “You still want to hear my answer to your question, right?”
I’m about to say yes, I most definitely want to go out with her. I mean, look at her. She’s hot, fun, and she likes to mix it up just like I do.
She really is my kind of girl.
I’ve just been giving her a hard time, like I did last night.
It’s so much fun that I just can’t stop myself.
But the truth is I have no qualms about dating a fellow Wolves employee.
It’s allowed, but even if it wasn’t, I like to live a little dangerously and would probably still go out with her.
Uh, but we may have a problem.
Looks like I pushed it too far with Cricket.
Shaking her head, she says, “No, Landen. Now is not the time to talk about going out on that stupid date. We have a lot of work to do. The kids are our priority here.”
She’s right, so I capitulate. “Okay. Let’s get started.”
Cricket is all business from that point on.
Calling the kids over to form a circle around us, she begins organizing them into small groups of three to four.
After she sets the ground rules about everyone taking their turn and being encouraging to one another, she pulls me aside.
“You go ahead and start practicing a few skills drills with the first three groups on this side of the ice. I’ll take my groups over to the other side to shoot some pucks into the net. That should keep everyone busy.”
I nod. “Okay, sounds good.”
Even though I’m trying to be nice and easygoing now, Cricket is choosing to work with her groups as far away from me as possible. I think if she could give them a tour of the upper deck of the arena, it wouldn’t put enough distance between us for her liking.
She can’t be this mad, though, can she?
I mean, come on, she was giving it to me just as hard.
Speaking of hard, I’d like to give her a few other stiff things.
Well, one in particular.
But alas, we have work to do.
I get started with the first speed drill, which involves skating up and down a section of the ice as fast as we can.
The kids love it!
They’re really awesome, so enthusiastic and willing to learn.
That’s why when it’s time for the next drill—shooting pucks at the net on my side of the ice—I’m more amped than ever.
Unlike Cricket, who’s having the kids tap pucks into the net from wherever they are on the ice, I’m going with a more structured approach.
I have my groups line up at different points to shoot the puck from various angles.
It’s a great way for me to learn where their strengths and weaknesses lie. It also helps me figure out what we should work on next, which ends up being slap shots.
Most of the kids are pretty amped about that.
And while some of the kids have real, natural talent, others need a little work.
That’s why I make sure when it’s time for one-on-one sessions, I put in extra effort with the lesser skilled children.
I’m happy to note too that the better ones are following Cricket’s advice and being encouraging. They’re rooting and cheering on the less talented kids.
Because of that, every single child has a great time.
When our respective drills wrap up, Cricket skates over with her groups so we can switch.
“Is everything going all right?” she asks.
“It’s going phenomenally,” I reply. “These kids are awesome.”
“Right?” She actually smiles at me. “They really are. Oh, and after we’re done, we’ll surprise them with the equipment.”
“Fantastic.” I’m feeling truly pumped as I tell her, “I can’t wait.”
She nods. “They’re really going to love that part.”
“For sure,” I agree.
When the drills are all over, Cricket and I do indeed begin passing out the new equipment.
And the kids are beyond excited.
Seeing them so happy makes me smile.
When I glance over at Cricket, I catch her grinning too.
It’s turning into a good day after all.
After all the equipment is passed out, Cricket informs me that there’s time for selfies and autographs with the kids and their parents, who are up in the stands.
We have a great time with that too.
Cricket keeps everything super organized and on schedule.
Despite our bickering, I really am impressed with her. The Wolves chose wisely for the event coordinator position.
Once everyone has filed out, amid waves and heartfelt goodbyes, Cricket skates back out onto the ice.
When she starts picking up sticks and pucks that were left lying about, I don’t know why, but I head out onto the ice to talk with her.
Skating up to her, I say, “You do know that the ice crew guy usually retrieves all this stuff?”
Skating languorously, three sticks and two pucks in her hand, she shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I just like being out here.”
We stop by the bench, where she drops the sticks and pucks over the boards.
When we start skating again, she goes on. “The ice is so relaxing. When I was a kid, my parents signed me up for figure skating lessons. I loved it from day one. Just skating around makes me feel good. Does that make sense?”
Is she kidding?
Chuckling, I reply, “I’m a hockey player, Cricket. Of course that makes sense. To me, the ice is everything.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, �
�I guess it would be.”
We skate quietly then, along the perimeter of the ice, lost in our own thoughts. I don’t know what she’s thinking about, but I know what’s on my mind—I’m surer than ever that I want to go out with her.
On top of all of her amazing attributes, we share a love of the ice.
She truly is right for me.
Sighing deeply, I finally break the silence. “So about that date…”
Slowing, she glances over at me, quirking a brow. “Yes?”
“I’m not asking you anymore if you want an answer. I’m just going to give it to you.”
“Ooh, now we’re talking. I like a man who’s direct.”
“Good. ’Cause I’d like to go out with you. I don’t care that we work for the same organization. Is that direct enough for you, Cricket?”
She nods thoughtfully. “Yes, I think it is.”
I stop skating, as does she, and then I ask, “So what’s your response? Have you changed your mind or do you still plan to back out?”
“Can I?” she asks.
I shrug, though I do feel bad that she may not follow through.
Still, I tell her, “Hey, nothing’s set in stone.”
“We did make a bet, though,” she concedes.
“Yes, we did. And I won.”
“You did.”
“So what’s it going to be?”
She’s so quiet that I can’t help but prompt, “Do you plan on giving me an answer sometime today?”
“Um…” She cracks a mischievous grin.
“Uh-oh, what’s up now?”
Turning to me, she says, “How about if we make my answer dependent on yet another bet?”
I scoff. “Sure. I’m always up for another fun wager.”
Smirking triumphantly, she replies, “Cool, so am I. So here’s the bet—if you can catch me, Landen, then I’ll go out with you. In fact, I’ll go anywhere you want me to go.”
Faster than I ever would’ve expected, she suddenly takes off.
But faster than I’m sure she ever expected, I chase after her.
Hedging My Bet
Do I want Landen to lose?
Hell no!
That’s why I hedged my bet.
I mean, come on. Like there’s any chance on this planet he can’t catch me.
I think not.
Landen is one of the fastest hockey players in the league, for fuck’s sake.
So yeah, he’s going to win.
Doesn’t mean I can’t give it my all, though, right?
Fast as I can, pumping my arms and legs like a madwoman, I zip up the ice.
I have a good head start, but before I even come close to reaching the other side, Landen is on me.
Mmm, I feel his warm body closing in.
I like that.
I actually slow down on purpose so he can capture me.
But that only serves to throw him off.
He’s skating at such a high rate of speed that when he wraps his arms around my waist, spinning me to face him, we almost careen into the boards.
“Ahhh,” I cry out.
“Don’t worry.” He pulls me in more securely, spinning us around so he can take the brunt. “I got you, babe.”
He does.
Landen’s reflexes are amazing.
Creating a huge spray of ice with his skates as he lifts me up, he stops on a dime before we ever make contact with the wooden boards.
“Whoa, that was close,” I breathe out.
His hands remain on either side of my waist as he lowers me down to the ice.
My skates touch and, placing my own hands on his wide chest, the Wolves black-and-red emblem on the front of his jersey so smooth and silky beneath my palms, I steady myself.
It’s not just my skates that have me off-balance.
It’s Landen.
“That was close,” he replies. “But we’re okay.”
“We are,” I agree, “thanks to your quick actions.”
He leans back against the boards, and it dawns on me then just how truly ready he was to take the hit if we had crashed.
That melts me even further, like literally.
I press into him, and he inhales sharply.
When I look up, our eyes meet.
His sage greens are piercing up close like this, and I can’t help but murmur, “Wow.”
“Yeah, wow,” he replies, meaning something else entirely, I’m sure.
I should back away, but I can’t.
Clearing my throat, I mumble, “You, uh, were great with the kids today.”
“As were you,” he replies quietly.
I shrug, and he moves his hands around to my back, where he starts caressing slowly.
Oh my God, that feels so good.
I’m tingly all over, and my heart skips a beat.
All I want right now is to kiss Landen Zehner.
I think he wants that too.
As my gaze travels to his lips, I see that he’s smiling.
But then it becomes too much.
I suddenly feel unsure and start stammering, “We, uh… We should get off the ice, yeah?”
“Why?” He raises a brow. “There’s no one around.”
I sputter, “Uh, but the guy from the ice crew could come back at any time.”
“Eh.” Landen shrugs. “He could, but he’s not here right now.”
I can’t argue with that. “No, no he’s not.”
“So what do you want, Cricket?”
Landen’s voice is so smooth, so seductive.
Fuck it.
I’m done fighting what we both so clearly desire.
I blurt out, “I want you to kiss me.”
“Finally,” Landen growls, “a straight answer.”
“Yes, finally.”
With no hesitation at all, his lips crash down onto mine.
Sublime
Kissing Cricket is sublime. Her lips are full and sweet, and I can’t get enough.
Delicious…
This is an amazing communion of mouths—lips interlocked, tongues touching, and just breathing each other in.
It is perfect.
When we stop for air, I shift and murmur into her ear, “I want you so much right now.”
Cricket slumps against me and groans, “Unh, Landen, don’t say that. You’re killing me here.”
“No, sweetheart…” I trail soft kisses down her neck slowly. “It’s you who’s killing me. But…in…the…best…way…possible.”
She lets out a little sigh, and we basically attack each other.
Who cares that we’re still on the ice?
Not me, not her.
No, her hands wind into my hair, and I slide mine down to cup her ass, squeezing her firm cheeks.
She gasps.
And I groan.
Then, out of nowhere, someone clears their throat.
Shit.
We break apart, both of us slumping against the boards.
We pretend as if nothing is happening here, as if we weren’t just all over each other.
And then we see that the throat-clearer is the guy from the ice crew.
Yeah, we weren’t just dry-humping each other on the ice, dude.
I don’t think he’ll believe that.
Still, Cricket clears her throat and says very loudly, “So, yes, Mr. Zehner, that concludes our event for today. Thank you for staying to impart your, uhhh, input. It was quite helpful.”
The ice crew guy, who’s really just a kid of about nineteen, starts laughing.
Even I can’t keep a straight face.
“I think we’ve been busted,” I whisper to Cricket.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “It would seem so.”
The ice crew guy, shaking his head, skates out onto the ice and starts retrieving the sticks and pucks Cricket never got to.
As he approaches us, he says, “Don’t worry. I didn’t see a thing.”
Since he so clearly did see quite a lot, but is being cool about it
, I tell him, “Hey, thanks, man. It’s much appreciated.”
Even though there are no explicit rules regarding Wolves employees dating, Cricket did just start her job a few days ago. I don’t think public displays of affection between us, especially on my work surface, would be appreciated.
So yeah, no, discretion is the way to go.
I’m glad the kid’s on board.
Looking at me, Cricket says, “I guess we should get off the ice, huh?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
As we begin skating over to one of the exits along the boards, I say, “So, about that date…”
Cricket, snickering, raises a brow. “Yes?”
No more messing around. I get right to the point. “When do you want to go out? I have a game tomorrow, which I’m sure you know. But I’m free the next night.”
Winking over at me, she says, “As luck would have it, Landen, so am I.”
I guess she’s done playing games too.
Our impromptu make-out session seems to have sealed the deal.
We’re both dying to go out and continue this fun.
“Good.” I nod. “We’ll go out Friday night, then.”
“Friday it is,” she says cheerfully.
“Perfect.”
We reach the exit, and I flip the latch to swing open the wood door for her.
After she carefully steps off the ice, blonde ponytail bouncing, I follow.
“Is seven a good time to pick you up?” I ask from behind her. “We can go to dinner, then do whatever you want. A movie, dancing—”
“I have an idea actually,” Cricket interrupts, spinning to face me.
“What?” I practically crash into her but, of course, don’t. “You don’t like dinner?”
She laughs. “No, no, the dinner part sounds great. But afterward, how do you feel about us hitting up the casino and playing a little blackjack?” Giving me a stern look, she adds, “As I recall, I have some money to win back.”
Man, I am falling for this woman already.
Folding my arms across my chest, I retort, “I think you mean you have some more money to lose…to me.”
“Ha, you wish, Landen.”
I raise a brow. “Wanna bet?”
Placing her hands on her waist, and looking super cute, she says, “Are we talking about another side wager here?”