her ass off right at the moment, so he pushed all thoughts of stroking (sweet Christ, why was he always thinking about stroking with that woman?) aside and glanced down at the screen placed beneath plexiglass below the bench, the goal replaying over and over again from various angles.
He watched Coop’s move again—fuck that was sick—and then was surprised, his eyes drawn from the screen when Bernard, their head coach, tapped him on the shoulder with the rolled-up sheaf of papers he always carried when coaching. Considering he’d never seen Bernard look at them, Ethan thought it was the older man’s version of a fidget spinner. Not that he’d ever voice that thought aloud. Players didn’t rock the boat with their head coaches.
Or at least not players who wanted to actually get a decent amount of ice time.
He met his coach’s gaze, forced away thoughts of fidget spinners.
Bernard nodded approvingly. “That was you.” Another tap, and then he was back focusing on the rest of the team, talking with the ref, saying something into Calle’s—their assistant coach, who had a killer mind for offense (and also Coop’s wife)—ear before focusing back on the ice.
Which was what Ethan should be doing.
Except, now he wasn’t just wondering if Dani had noticed his role in the play, but whether she’d caught Bernard giving him props—something that was rare with their typically quiet coach and something that had his post-goal grin widening.
Probably not.
She had a million things going on at once.
But when he happened to notice the camera on him, spotting part of his face on the monitors beneath his feet, he lifted his head, stared directly into that lens and winked.
Hopefully, it was so fast that no one but Dani would have seen—he doubted this but was prepared to take any teasing tossed his way, regardless—
The ref blew his whistle.
Ethan focused on the ice.
The puck dropped.
The game went on.
And all thoughts of winks disappeared, but the notion that Dani might be watching stayed in the back of his mind, had him skating harder for those final few minutes, had him working his ass off as they wound down and the play moved into overtime. It had him positioning himself in the right place at the right time when he took his turn, accepting a pass . . . and stuffing it past the goalie.
Then as the horn blared and the crowd cheered, as his teammates surrounded him for the requisite hug, her presence stayed there.
Maybe she hadn’t seen the wink.
But hopefully, she had seen the goal.
Chapter Nine
Dani
A wink.
God, it should have been dorky as all hell.
But instead, she’d nearly swallowed her tongue, had almost gasped out loud, both somehow at the same time, which would have been critically embarrassing considering Jess was in the room with her.
She could hear how the conversation would go in her head.
Why are you choking on your gasps, oh boss of mine?
Because I’m a dumbass, who nearly swooned over a wink.
Of course, Jess would never call her oh boss of mine, but that was far from the point.
The point being, of course, that Ethan had winked.
At her.
And she’d gotten all fluttery inside.
“Fucking hell,” she whispered.
Sliding, sliding down that slope, the rope of her safety net fraying more by the second.
“I know,” Jess said, her eyes on the screen. “That move was incredible.”
“Yes.” She focused back on her job, filing the wink to deal with later, and then added, “Coop has great hands.”
Jess grinned over her shoulder. “Too bad he’s madly in love with Calle, because those hands”—she clasped her fingers together, air-kissed them, a la chef style—“though Ethan isn’t too bad. I wouldn’t mind feeling that beard between my thighs.”
This time, Dani did choke on her gasp, coughing as she attempted to capture the continuing play. “That’s”—cough—“not”—cough—“very”—cough—“professional.”
Jess grinned. “I forgot we did that here.”
Dani snorted. “You know I’m not mad, it’s just . . .”
“Shitty and reductive?”
A shrug. “Maybe.”
“Probably.” She tossed another smile over her shoulder. “I’ll be on my best behavior from here on out.”
Another snort, mostly because Jess was never on her best behavior, and that was part of the reason it was so fun to spend hours in the booth with her. “You forget I know you.”
“You forget . . .” She scowled. “You’re right.”
Dani laughed.
Then they both got back to work, playing catch up at times as they broke each play down into tiny bite-sized pieces to be consumed later. But by the end of the game—and after a really nice goal from Ethan—the