“What—him?”
“Yeah. The captain. He's hot.Really hot.”
Todd huffed and shot me a nasty look. “Hey, what the hell, Honor?”
“What? I can say that, can't I? You said the ice girls were hot.”
“Yousaid she had a great ass first! I thought that meant I had the green light to talk about her like that. But this is completely different.” Todd folded his arms and threw his back against his seat. “Ugh, you know what? Whatever. Forget it.”
I snickered and watched the Colorado captain glide around the ice. His body moved with the purpose, power and stealth of a shark—and maybe the cold, apathetic loneliness of a shark, too.
“Oh, don't get all hurt over it, Todd. I was just proving a point.”
“You know something, Honor? You're so antagonistic because of those damnedbrothersof yours. If they didn't pick on you so much when you were younger, and actually treated you like . . .”
While Todd ranted about what a mean girl I was because of my brothers, I tuned him out and followed the action on the ice.
The Colorado captain skated fast, in hot pursuit of the puck carrier. He was so fast and strong, he caught up to the guy like a cheetah after wounded prey. And all the captain had to do was barely lean into his opponent and give him a little shove, and the Florida player went flyingthrough the air. His body smashed into the glass, and he toppled over ass-first, spilling to the ice like a bag of wet cement. The hometown crowd went wild, and the captain raced up the ice with the puck.
Wow. He's fast.
The captain took a shot on goal, but the Florida goalie made a great save, and the ref blew the whistle to stop play.
And who happened to stoprightby our seats, but the captain himself. With his helmet on, I couldn't quite see what he looked like. But a rugged jawline and chiseled chin, shadowed with dark stubble, suggested he'd sure be ababewith his helmet off.
The captain stared intently at the ice as he waited for the faceoff. Beads of sweat rolled from under his helmet, down his temples, and dripped from his jaw. Wisps of steam rose from his muscular and glistening neck.
Wish I could see your face,I thought, holding my cell phone at the ready to snap his picture.With those features, I bet you're devastatingly handsome.
But the key word there wasdevastating—because I couldn't help but sense something dark and mysterious about the captain, as if he were stewing in some miserable hell that no one could possibly know.
Todd clucked his tongue at me. “Really? Taking his picture? So I guess I'll be allowed to do that with the ice girls, then.”
“Shush.”
I snapped the captain's picture and texted it to my brother Derek.
“Hey bro, random Q. Who is this dreamboat?”
Always happy to talk hockey with his little sister, Derek's reply came in quick.
“That's Hunter Rockwell. You think he's hot? Better get in line, Honor, the girls go nuts for that guy. Voted hottest player in the league—but not for his play, that's for sure.”
“I see. So he's not any good?” I texted back.
“He's alright. He was traded to Colorado three years ago, from Boston. He was good—really good—in Boston. But in Colorado, he hasn't really lived up to expectations. He's just not the same player he was before. It's like his heart isn't in it anymore. Who knows what his deal is.”
That seemed to fit—it sure explained the darkness I'd sensed in him, anyway.
“Thank you for the scouting report, Derek!”
Hunter Rockwell lowered himself into his faceoff stance. When the ref dropped the puck, he swiped at it and easily won the draw.
And then Rockwell was off. His powerful legs unspooled beneath him, and he raced into open ice.
He looks better than 'alright' to me…
Chapter 2:
