Page 35 of The Player's Club

“Wait, did you read the back of the note?” Hannah turned over the piece of paper. “‘A limo will be waiting for you at five o’clock to take you to the airport,’“ she read. Her eyebrows shot up. “Damn, he’s really pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?”

I grabbed the note from her. “The game is at eight. How are we going to get there in time? It’ll take us an hour just to get to LAX.”

“Girl, he probably has a private jet.”

To my amazement, Hannah was correct. The limo drove us not to LAX but to John Wayne where the rich and famous took off in their private jets. Instead of getting stripped and yelled at by TSA like regular folk, we were wined and dined the second the limo driver opened the car doors for us.

“Is this real life?” I asked for the thousandth time after the private jet had taken off. We’d already been served champagne and the fanciest appetizers I’d ever seen.

Hannah giggled. Giggled! Hannah never giggled. “I sure as fuck hope so.” She popped a ball of fancy cheese into her mouth. “This is amazing. Not even Emma and Ryan have a private jet, and they’re fucking rich.”

We landed in Denver and before I knew it, we were at the stadium. Inside, we were escorted to a private box with an amazing view of the rink. I was wearing Mac’s jersey, while Hannah wore the other, along with a cap.

My friend was busy figuring out what kind of scrumptious food we should order from the menu, but I focused on seeing Mac. I couldn’t believe he’d gone to all this trouble. Hadn’t I already basically told him I’d sign the contract? Then again, he hadn’t been able to see inside my head to know just how excited I really was about this, even if I pretended I needed time to think about it.

Was all this effort just to get into my pants? Was I going to owe him big for all this? Or did he actually like me?

I felt like a giddy schoolgirl. When both teams began to enter the ice, and the crowd went wild, I found myself hooting and hollering with them.

Simply nothing was more exhilarating than everyone cheering for your man. Technically, he wasn’t even mine, but I already felt a certain possessiveness over him, given our impending arrangement.

Mac was the first to enter. He skated the circumference of the rink, stopping near the north end where Hannah and I were sitting. When he looked up, he flashed a smile and tapped two fingers to his forehead in a salute. It felt like one of those moments you read about. Out of all of these tens of thousands of people, he’d sought me out. He was about to play a game, yet he’d been thinking of me.

I could hardly breathe. He hadn’t even touched me—he’d just lookedat me—and I felt like I was going to faint. Oh God. A panic attack was coming on. It had been years since I had one. My heart pounded in my chest, and my palms and face began to sweat. Hannah must’ve noticed something was wrong. She grabbed my arm.

“Elodie, breathe. Breathe, girl.”

She kept her hand on my back as I took a deep breath. Then another. Hannah started fanning me with a random brochure, continuously amused at my lack of composure.

“I’m not sure if that was nervousness or excitement. But whichever it was, it’s clear you are so far gone,” she said, shaking her head. “But I can’t even judge you for it.”

Luckily, the game started then, and it helped me focus on something other than what would likely be happening soon. I wasn’t sure if it was how I felt, but the game was exhilarating. The home team, the Blizzards, was one of the best in the league, and the Blades trailed behind in the beginning. But they soon caught up, especially after Mac scored two goals in a row.

Hannah grabbed my hand, squeezing it so hard that I started to lose feeling in my fingers, but I didn’t care. The game was currently tied, with only thirty seconds left on the clock, and my skin tingled with anticipation as I watched the numbers tick down.

Twenty-nine.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-seven.

Carmichael, one of the wingers, stole the puck and sent it sailing across the ice in Mac’s direction. Everyone in the crowd jumped up as Mac took control, racing down the ice while shuttling the puck back and forth.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Mac glided toward the net, swung his stick back, and slammed the puck. Everyone in the arena held their breaths as the tiny puck flew toward the goal. It slid between the goalie’s knees and crossed the red line. Mac scored the winning goal of the game!

The buzzer sounded two seconds later, and the stadium erupted. I screamed, Hannah screamed, and then we jumped up and down, hugging each other.

“Oh my God!” I kept saying over and over again. “Did you see that?”

“That was fucking amazing.” Hannah shook her head. “Holy shit. Wow. What a game!”