She got a text from Brooke at six sharp, and met her and Monica in the alley. All of them wore jeans and long-sleeve shirts and carried fleece or denim jackets.
“I thought your sister was going?” Emily said to Monica.
Monica rolled her eyes. “She’s coming. She didn’t bring the right clothes for a rink, so she’s going through mine.”
They sat in the Jeep and chatted for another ten minutes until Melissa came outside, looking cool and unhurried, still elegant in jeans and a silk blouse. Monica grumbled something under her breath, and Emily bit her lip to keep from smiling.
When they reached the rink in Aspen, Emily bought a hot dog and Diet Coke before donning her fleece jacket to leave the warm lobby.
“So is this a local college team?” Emily asked Monica. “Do you know the players?”
“Sure I know the players. The Valentine Massacre is an adult rec league team. You’re dating one of the stars.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open, and she hurried ahead of the women toward the boards surrounding the rink, where Plexiglas windows protected them from the puck. She saw several dozen men skating around, warming up, shooting at the goal, bumping into each other.
Then someone slammed into the boards right next to her, and she flinched back. The man pulled off his helmet, and she saw Nate, his hair already damp with sweat.
She spoke loudly near the crack between the Plexiglas. “Your sister didn’t tell me you were on the team.”
He leaned against the boards and slowly smiled at her, green eyes glittering, making it very clear he was remembering what they’d been doing last night. She felt a wave of heat sweep over her and wondered if she was giving off steam in the cold rink.
“I’ll talk to you after the game,” he said, then winked at her.
She melted into a smile that made her feel positively glowing, then followed the other women up into the bleachers, filing past a few handfuls of people who’d come to cheer on friends.
“Woo-hoo, did you see that smirk on Nate’s face?” Monica called to Brooke.
Emily blinked and tried to appear innocent as she took a seat next to Melissa, who eyed her with interest, popping a cheese-coated french fry into her mouth.
Brooke sat down on the end, jostling Emily. “I saw it, and believe me, I know damn well what it meant. Someone’s been holding out on us.”
Emily munched her hot dog and just looked back and forth at them. They waited impatiently while she chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”
“Dish it out, girlfriend,” Monica said. “The truth.”
Emily opened her mouth, then embarrassment made her hesitate. She wasn’t used to talking about something so private. Nate probably wouldn’t appreciate it if she—
“Look at her,” Brooke said with a snort, “she can barely get the words out, and her face is as red as a tomato.”
“Leave the girl alone,” Melissa said mildly. “She doesn’t have to tell you busybodies everything.”
“Busybodies?” Monica echoed, rearing back as if affronted. “Are you my grandma? And you’re the one who heard Nate’s truck in the alley late last night.”
“I didn’t bring it up to her, did I?” Melissa said with exasperation.
They sounded like sisters, not distant acquaintances, Emily thought, feeling relieved for them. Maybe things were starting to get better.
“You brought it up to me, leaving me all wondering,” Monica grumbled.
“You didn’t tell me!” Brooke shot back.
“Okay, okay, you need to give this a rest.” Emily felt like another black-and-white-striped referee. All she needed to do was lace up a pair of skates and hold them all back from fighting.
They looked at her expectantly.
And again, she felt her face go all hot. “I can’t just . . . talk about it!”
And then they laughed, even Melissa.
When a whistle blew, Emily was vastly relieved. She watched the game, glad there was no outright fighting, the one thing she usually hated about hockey. And Nate was pretty good—fast on his skates, deadly with his aim, absorbing the occasional blow to his body when a defender got ambitious. She didn’t understand the rules, but it didn’t really matter. She found herself cheering when the score got too close, then giving a final whoop when Nate’s team won.
They waited in the lobby for the men, along with several other women Emily was introduced to. The players appeared, their hair slicked back from showers, carrying huge duffel bags stuffed with equipment.
“Hold your breath if one of those bags is open,” Brooke