“That stuff is over my head,” I admit.
“It’s like being an artist and appreciating the painter for each swipe of their brush. She’s a genius.”
“Sounds like you’re in love with her.”
“For all I know, she’s a man hiding behind a screen name.”
“She’s a woman,” Sam says, realizing she made a mistake. “Or so I heard.”
I told Jamie the e-mail address came from someone on campus. He didn’t push too hard when I told him I couldn’t give away my source. All he cared about was meeting his match. He’s so obsessed with The Queen that his relationship with Shannon ends. Maybe once he discovers the truth, he will go back to Shannon and grovel for a second chance.
“I hope so,” Jamie mutters.
Poor guy.
“Okay, now get out,” I joke.
Jamie nods. “I have to go find my girl.”
“Shower,” I remind him. “Girls don’t like guys who smell like barn animals.”
“Dick.” He laughs and then bends down to punch me in the arm. “Thanks for the tip, Tuck.”
“Anytime.” I wave him off. “Now, go.”
After Jamie closes the door, I’m all over Sam, exploring every inch of her. She molds her body to mine, hooking her leg around mine. I roll her onto her back, making room for myself between her legs.
“Tucker,” she groans as I thrust inside her.
I lean forward and rest my forehead against hers, taking my time as I slide in and out of her.
“I love you,” I confess, and she says it back, digging her nails into my shoulder.
Everything in my life is falling into place.
Sam.
The Frozen Four.
The identity of The Queen.
Soon, the NHL.
And all of it started with the girl of my dreams.
Chapter 28
Sam
Three months later…
We’re in Vancouver for the NHL Draft. My nerves are uncontainable, though I try to hide it from Tucker. He pretends he’s calm and confident, but I know he’s terrified. So, I put on my game face for him.
Sitting between Tucker and his mom, I hold their hands, praying he’s selected. Kennedy is biting her cheek, her fear shaking through me, so I squeeze her hand tighter. His dad looks worried, not just for Tucker but also for Trent. They were both eligible for the draft.
Digging his elbows into his thighs, Tucker leans forward. He sucks in a deep breath and then turns to me, giving me a quick wink and a playful smile. I return the gesture, and his attention returns to the stage where the next draft pick is announced.
I want to puke. My stomach is in knots. I don’t know how Tucker can stay calm when I want to jump out of my skin. They call Trent’s name in the first round, and our entire row lets out the breath of air we were holding. We rise to our feet, clapping and congratulating Trent. Tucker hugs Trent and whispers something into his ear, slapping him on the back.
