Tripping (Iced #2) - Kristine Allen Page 0,12

she seemed to be getting flirty. At least more flirty than she initially was. Shit, what if I was one of those guys that only saw what he wanted. Was I an idiot? Should I cut my losses?

We were in the middle of a weeklong road trip. I’d tried to contact Bleu several times, but while she wouldn’t answer the phone, she would reply to my text messages. When I went out of town, she seemed to back off significantly. She was polite and didn’t tell me to fuck off, but she was still holding back. I’d been debating throwing in the towel, but each time I told myself I would, I got a tight feeling in my stomach.

“What the hell has got you so preoccupied?” Alex asked as we skated across the ice after the first period ended. It had been a rough game so far. Montreal was Alex’s old team, and we were pretty evenly matched, but we were playing like shit. Me included.

“I don’t know.” Except that wasn’t remotely true.

“I call bullshit. I’ve never known you to be so erratic. You’ve always been able to shut everything out when you’re on the ice. Even when I played against you, I’d never seen anyone more focused. Now that we’re friends, I know you.” Alex called it, and I didn’t want to admit he was right, but he was.

We were the last ones off the ice. As we walked in our skates to the locker room, I glanced his way. “I need your advice.”

“Okay, what’s up?” he asked as he removed his helmet and I did the same.

“How did you get Sydney to go out with you?”

He stopped dead in his tracks. A huge grin spread across his face.

“You’re asking me for dating advice? Cameron McGregor? Puck bunny lover and playboy extraordinaire is ready to give up all the easy pussy? I knew there was something going on when you brought a date to my wedding. Come to think of it, you haven’t been going out with the guys after the games.” He appeared to study me like I was a rare bug under a microscope.

“Never mind,” I grumbled, deciding the wussy feelings and relationship stuff wasn’t worth his mouthful of shit.

“Wait,” he grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks. I glared at him. “I’m only giving you crap,” he said.

“McGregor! Kosinski! Are you two going to join us?” Coach sarcastically called down the hall to us, and I realized everyone was already in the locker room.

“We’ll talk after the game. Quit worrying and get your head in the game,” Alex said as we headed toward our narrow-eyed coach.

Coach Soderberg was a former player and the youngest head coach in the league. We respected the hell out of him, but he didn’t go easy on us because he had played with a few of us at one time or another. My first year in the NHL was one of his last.

His well-worded ass chewing was directed at more than me. We were seriously off our game that night.

As we headed back to the ice at the end of the break, we were ready to put the first period behind us. The second my right blade hit the ice, I breathed in the cold air and forced my mind to clear.

As we skated to the bench, Jericho came up beside me. “You’re one of the best centers in the league for a reason. Our line is on point. We can do this.”

“Damn fucking straight,” said Kris from my other side as he turned his head in my direction and gave me a nod.

They were right. Our first line was killing it so far this season, along with the rest of the team. After forcing myself to push Bleu to the back of my mind, I gritted my teeth and put on my game face.

When I crouched in preparation for the face-off, my focus was crystal clear. Poised to take control of the puck, I reassessed the location of my line. Alex gave me a nod when I glanced at him. Then I returned my full attention to the matter at hand.

Thombold, the center for Montreal, stared at me, then at the official holding the puck. His skate crossed the line as he jumped the gun, and my heart lurched. Adrenaline raced through my veins. After a deep breath, I waited. The official removed him from the face-off after the second time it happened. He was replaced by Pitts, their