learning how to stand on skates and skis. And wow, he was fast. The puck went flying toward Florida’s net, with Anders chasing it, and two defensemen chasing him. His ability to almost shimmy on the ice, to control the puck while doing so, was incredible. Instead of attempting to score, he flipped the puck to one of his teammates. Before Olivia had a chance to process what had happened, the crowd was on its feet, screaming and clapping. The goal had happened so quickly, she’d missed it.
Anders had helped score a goal. The players all piled on each other in the corner, and it was a wonder someone didn’t get hurt with the sticks and skates involved. When the celebration broke up, Anders skated toward the bench holding up one finger in a heavily padded glove. When his eyes caught hers briefly, she knew he meant it for her.
“How long is a game of hockey?” she asked Natalie, who was still clapping with the crowd.
“I’m not sure. There are three periods, right? At twenty minutes each, maybe.”
One point for an assist in the first period. If he kept that up . . . The thought made her shudder. Would he really be able to outperform the average just because she’d asked him to? What if he didn’t?
He would. She had a feeling as she watched him, determination etching his features. Confidence radiated from him, as did an undercurrent of aggression. It was a side of him she’d never seen, and it shouldn’t have been so damned fascinating to watch.
There was no way he wouldn’t make it. Her confidence in him was the reason she was wearing her prettiest lace underwear, that every part of her was shaved, that she’d showered before the game and covered her skin in her favorite body lotion that smelled faintly of clementine and neroli.
“Oh my god,” she cried, jumping to her feet as Anders was slammed into the boards. The player who’d knocked him down was a beast of a man. Taller than Anders by a couple of inches. Wider, too. Her heart raced, beating a frenzied rhythm. Anders climbed to his feet, shaking his head for a moment. Karl skated by and said something that only seemed to irritate Anders.
With his head down, he skated off the ice, and she watched as he sat on the bench, resting his head in his hands for a moment until a member of the staff said something to him and he shook his head.
She grabbed her phone, typing him a message she knew he wouldn’t see until the game was over.
We agreed to three points, but I think I’m going to need to stipulate for future bets that you come off the ice in one piece. That’s more important to me than the points.
When the buzzer for the period sounded, the bench cleared out so quickly she struggled to see Anders leave, barely catching his name on the back of his jersey.
Perhaps he’d see her message during the break.
“Are you okay, Liv?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah. Fine. That was intense, right?”
Natalie nodded. “Definitely a lot more testosterone here versus television coverage.”
“No kidding. And the sound when they hit the boards . . .”
“Yeah, looked like Anders had his bell rung on that last hit.”
Worry gnawed away at her, and she attempted to put it in perspective. Hitting the boards had happened to others on the ice and they’d all gotten up and walked away.
When the team came back onto the ice, Anders looked like a different person than the man who suffered a blow before the break. He rolled his shoulders as he circled the ice before taking his place back on the bench, and Olivia found herself mimicking the action, loosening her own shoulders.
While she wasn’t quite ready to tell Anders, she felt like with a better explanation of the game, she might just fall in love with it as much as Jake did. As much as her father had.
She thought of her dad, and it tugged her back to a time and place she didn’t want to focus on right now.
She shook her head, and sighed. “You okay there?” Natalie asked.
“Just thinking about Dad.”
Natalie threw her arm over Olivia’s shoulder. “That must be tough. He used to love hockey, right?”
Olivia nodded, happy that the hockey connection had been Natalie’s first thought. “Yeah. He would love these seats.”
Anders raced on the ice as the lines changed. He yelled to the person who played on his left-hand side