We took the puck into the Scout's end. In the corner, I crushed a Scout, savoring the crowd's cringingoof—a sound that told me the hit was so hard, I might as well have punched each and every fan in the gut personally.
Which I would've really enjoyed, after all their booing tonight.
I snatched up the puck that bobbled free after the hit. I sent it to Hunter, who streaked into the offensive zone and pulled a defender to himself.
I sneaked into the open ice and cocked my stick, ready to fire.
I didn't even have to call for the puck—that's how good Hunter is. He saw me get open and knew,knew,that I wanted to put my mark on this game after that hit.
He sent the puck sailing through the air back to me. I let out a battle roar and leaned into the shot, giving it everything I had. Off my stick in a hurry, that rubber disc was only a streaking black blur through the air, over the goalie's shoulder, under the bar, and into the net.
We were still down 2-1, but I'd just scored that dinner.
My teammates mobbed me with hugs, but I managed to break free from the group to skate by Camille. Her hands were excitedly clasped together—and the smile, the look on her face?
Man.
I'd do anything to see that look on her face again and again.
Chapter 16
Gentleman
Camille
My heart fluttered as I watched Beau race up the ice, charge into the corner and out-muscle his opponent. Ever since he came back from that hit, he came back looking like a new man.
I never imagined I would've beenexcitedfor the chance of a dinner date with Beau Bradford—especially after what happened last night. But as soon as I took him up on that bet, I started secretly rooting for him. And as soon as the coach finally gave him his first shift? He did it. He scored a goal just seconds after he took the ice.
“Wow,” Piper gasped in awe. She patted my thigh. “That boy looks like hereallywants that dinner.”
He played with speed, power, and skill—qualities that he hadn't shown in the first period. Sure, he still had a hard, physical edge; but now, instead of it bordering on nastiness, he onlyemployed it in small measures, and only to tilt the balance of the game in his team's favor.
I answered hoarsely, “Yeah, guess so.”
“Must be a good feeling,” she giggled.
I answered shyly, “It is.”
Truth was? It wasn't just a good feeling. The idea that I had enough of a tug on Beau to impact the events of a professional hockey game … well! That was very, very flattering.
No—more than that, it was a rush of power, and I thought of Helen of Troy, whose face launched a thousand ships.
I watched Beau chug around the ice like a man possessed. He threw his weight into an opponent and knocked the man to the ice, snatched up the puck and fired another rocket at the goalie.
He was doing it all to impress me. Which, yes, was sort of a primitive, caveman mentality—and something I probably would've found unbecoming only 24 hours ago.
But you know what else was primitive and unbecoming? The way his demonstration of alpha power and masculine bravado inspired a sweltering warmth that spread between my thighs.
Some things you just can't help being attracted to.
Beau got the puck again. Bearing down on the Scouts goalie, he rushed the net. With a fancy move, Beau coaxed the goaltender out of his crease and deftly maneuvered the puck around the goalie's body, and easily stuffed it into the open net behind him. Piper and I both launched out of our seats to cheer—and earned a few nasty looks from the fans sitting around us.
It was a tie game, 2-2. And now, thanks to the terms of our bet, I was obligated to spendmoretime with him after our dinner date.
I crossed my legs and secretly indulged in the toe-curling throbs and pulses between my legs. Quietly, under the idle droning of the crowd, I moaned softly.
“Aw.” Piper put her arm around my shoulder. “Look, your cheeks are all pink. Are you embarrassed? You shouldn't be! It's so cute. I can't wait to hear about your date.”
