“Ilovethis, Piper.” But then I paused. “But … to tell you the truth? It almost feels a bit too much.”
She raised a brow at me. “A bit too much?”
“Yeah!” I said, with more conviction. “They haven't earnedthe right to hate him like I have. I'm not cool with bandwagons, remember? Either for or against. So he said New York stinks. So what? He's got a point; itdoesstink. That's not really a legit reason to hate somebody.”
Piper smacked her forehead. “Sometimes, Camille, you can be a pain … I'm starting to wonder ifthat'sthe reason you guys are so hot for each other. You both get off on being extremely difficult.”
“That's not true! And you know what else? Ever since Beau walked into our bakery, you've been running this non-stop commentary that Beau and I are actuallymadly in lovewith each other. And I've gotta say, I think you planted the seed in my head that led to my drunken mistake with him last night. Don't you feel any guilt over that? Or remorse? Or anything?”
Piper just laughed. “Hell no! Maybe after we sell this vegan bakery for millions of dollars, I'll start up a dating service. I'm telling you, I can see things other people can't. I've got a special ability.”
“Right. Sure.” I buried my face in my hands. “So youstillthink we've got a thing for each other, in other words?”
Piper raised a palm. “Um, hello? Isn't it obvious? I mean, you dressed up all sexy and gothic in order to—” Piper made super sarcastic air-quotes with her fingers—“'distract him'on the ice.”
I bumped my shoulder against hers. “I don't like what you're implying, Piper.”
“Oh, I know it.”
The referee threw the puck on the ice and the two teams went back to battle.
With each passing minute, the tension on the ice grew and tempers began to flare. The Scouts players started really gunning for Beau—each hit they threw into him had a little extraoomph.
It was like they reallywantedto hurt him.
Naturally, I started to get my hopes up. (Even if a small part of me started to grow sick with worry. Call it a woman's intuition that danger was lurking—but wasn't that the whole point of me coming to this game in the first place?)
Five minutes later, the Blizzard were on the attack in our end of the ice. Beau was out, and he worked the puck along the boards, engaged in a shoving match with two other Scouts.
That's when he finally noticed me.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Beau glanced up—saw me—began to smile—and sure enough, his eyes dropped to my cleavage.
… Where my middle-finger was already waiting for him.
Time was still crawling along whenmy gaze darted over his shoulder and saw what was coming from behind and heading Beau's way.
It was Dave Leroux.
I tried to warn Beau with my panicked eyes, but he didn't notice.
Like a run-away train, Leroux charged forward, eyes enraged and mouth twisted with anger.
I shrieked when Beau's face smashed into the boards. But all I could hear was the sickening sound that went over the arena, an awful hollow crash, like a bowling ball exploding into ten wooden pins.Was that the sound of Beau's head?
And time ran even slower when I watched Beau's body compress against the glass in front of me like an accordion, his neck bending in a grotesque manner. His body dropped to the ice like a bag of sand and my heart stopped beating.
Worst of all? The crowdcheered.Everyone was happy to see him get hurt.
Time resumed, in fact, it sped into fast-forward as mayhem broke out as a result of the hit.
Beau's enraged teammates grabbed a hold of Leroux and began swinging at his helmet with wild punches. Players jumped off both benches and started fighting. The referees skated around, blowing their whistles furiously, trying in vain to break the fights up.
But Beau didn't move. He laid face down on the ice and didn't even twitch.
I don't know if I grabbed Piper's hand first, or she grabbed mine, but we squeezed each other tight. My palm was absolutely damp with worry.
Oh my God, oh my God,I thought, fearing the worst.Oh my God—I did that. I distracted him.
