Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,46

that things fall back into place. But now that they have, I’m more focused on what Wade is sharing about his career than I am on the way the boulder-like muscles of his thighs shift and flex with every step he takes.

“I guess I assumed it was a pretty straightforward ascent once you made the move from football to hockey.”

Wade lets out a laugh, keeping pace beside me, his breath even and strong. “Not me. Lots of guys get picked up right out of high school. You know Greg Baxter?”

I read a bit about him while researching the team. “He was your captain but retired because of a concussion, right?”

“Yeah, well, that guy’s career trajectory was like a rocket. Mine was more like those terraced rice fields cut into the mountains in Japan. From a natural talent standpoint, guys like Baxter have me beat hands down.”

I slant him a look, doubtful. “But here you are. Playing at the same level.”

Another laugh. “Because I never fucking quit. Yeah, I got here. But if I’d let up for even a minute, I wouldn’t have.” We round a bend in the gravel road and the big painted sign for the orchard comes into view. “I played in college, but not on a free ride. Coach told me once he’d never expected me to advance past that level.”

“What?”

“Yeah, but I busted my ass, studied every tape, talked my way into more practice, more ice time, more one-on-one. And I made sure that every game I played reminded the decision-makers that they wanted me to play more in the next. I’m not a finesse guy, but I get it done. And that’s how I got myself into the AHL, how I earned the game time there, the chance for Taxi Squad. More time playing up than down.” He shakes his head. “But this was the first full season I’ve played with the Slayers.”

And from the articles, it sounds like he’s impressed everyone. “I read that your contract is up for renewal.”

“They’re hammering it out now. It’ll be finalized in the next couple weeks. Deadline’s at the end of the month.” Wade slows to a walk. Stops and turns to me. “Signing my first endorsement helps too. Good press. Good season for me even if it wasn’t great for the team. The stuff happening now—it’s a big deal for me. No matter how hard I worked, I knew the odds were against me getting here.”

I nod, my throat inexplicably tight. This man is nothing like I’d assumed that first night in the club. He’s driven, intelligent, kind and humble in the most unexpected ways. He knows what it means to work for something you may not get and to keep going anyway.

“But now you have. It must feel amazing.”

He lets out a laugh, kicking at the dirt. “It feels fucking fragile. Like finally, I ought to be able to take a breath, but I can’t. Not if I want to hold on to what I’ve been killing myself to get.”

“Wade.” I want to step into his body, take his face in my hands, and—I don’t even understand what I’m feeling except that it’s a pull I can’t give in to.

“Don’t give me that gentle voice, like you’re sorry for me, Good Girl.” He offers a lopsided smile so different from his sexy smirk, something melts inside me. “I’m exactly where I want to be. This is what I signed up for. And no matter who you are or how you got there, if you’re in the NHL, your clock is ticking. You’re always fighting to keep your spot.”

“Well, I hope you get to keep it for a long time.”

“So,” he drawls, stepping in closer. “You know about my contract. Been studying up on my sport pretty hard?” He picks up a bit of my hair and starts playing with it. The touch is so teasing and light, goose bumps break out across my skin. “Think you’d be interested in seeing a game?”

In this moment, it’s like there’s nothing fake between us. Never has been. It tightens my chest in a way that has nothing to do with the miles we’ve run.

“You could sit in my seats,” he says, voice low and rough.

I swallow. Feel my heart turn over in my chest. I can’t go to his game. We won’t be together.

“Wear my number.”

But even knowing it won’t happen, I can almost see it.

“I’ll knock the glass when I skate by, warming up.”

How did we get this