Page 50 of The Rebound Play
“It was,” I confirm because what else can I say?
“Me and my friends were rooting for you to win.” She indicates a group of women, all wearing thin clothing that must have had them freezing in the ice-cold arena.
“I hope we’ll do better for everyone next time,” I reply with a breezy smile as more jerseys and other merch are thrust my way to sign. I sign a bunch before I say, “Have a great night.”
As I smile at them in farewell and begin to move down the hallway, the woman I recognize as Lana, the one who wanted me to sign my jersey while she was wearing it at the Maple Fest, grabs my sleeve.
“We thought you might like to come back to our hotel room for a drink,” she purrs as she toys with her hair. “You could bring your teammates, if you wanted to, especially that Nate Simpson. He’s cute, though not as cute as you.”
I look at the women. They’re all dressed the same way as Lana, virtually the puck bunny uniform of form-fitting crop tops, tight pants, and—at least for a couple of them—bunny ears on top of their heads.
“Thanks for the offer, ladies, but I’ve got team stuff to do,” I reply, using an excuse I’ve relied on in the past to extricate myself from situations. “You have a great night.”
“Don’t go!” several of them squeal, pawing at me.
“Yeah, Dan. Don’t go,” Lana purrs as she clasps my arm.
This is getting out of hand.
“Sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” I say, deftly stepping out from their grasp and darting down the hall, aiming for the exit. Sometimes being 6′5″ is an advantage off the ice as well as on.
Some guys love this kind of attention, and I admit, when I was a rookie, I could not believe how easy it was to attract females. All I had to do was play for the team and afterwards, there’d be a bunch of women waiting to meet me—and more.
But those days are long behind me, and all I want to do is get to Keira, to hold her in my arms, and forget about tonight’s loss.
It’s then that I see her, standing in front of me, looking crestfallen in my jersey, and I wonder how much she’s just seen. However much it is, I’m sure she’ll understand. It’s not like I solicited the women’s attention. She’ll know they’re only interested in me because I’m a pro hockey player. It’s got nothing to do with the real me.
“Let’s get out of here, okay?” I say as I place a hand on her elbow and lead her away from the mob of persistent women.
“Good idea,” she replies, and we push through the exit and out into the cool fall night. Together, just the way I want us to be.
CHAPTER 14
KEIRA
I’m in a totally loved-up daze with Dan. There’s no other way to put it.
Since that night in the bookstore when we confessed our feelings for one another—and made my life—we’ve seen each other as much as we can, which isn’t nearly as often as either of us would like, what with his practices, games, and captain responsibilities, and my job, the kids, and Clara.
But when we’re together, grabbing the small amount of free time we can get—it’s like a dream. It’s everything I never dared hope for. Everything I’ve wanted since that terrible day we broke up and Dan left town.
What can I say? Being with Dan is utterly perfect.
Well, not quite perfect perfect. That’s not possible, and I know I can’t expect everything to be totally amazing. That’s unrealistic. And it’s ninety-nine point five percent amazing. Really.
And that point five percent isn’t something I’m planning on talking to Dan about. Nope. There’s nothing I could do about it, anyway. It is what it is, as the saying goes.
But here’s the thing. Back in high school, Dan was always the popular one of us. Not that I ever liked to use labels, but he was the jock to my nerd. Total extrovert; captain of the super-successful ice hockey team; people would greet him with high fives, slaps on the back, and handshakes wherever we went. Girls would flirt with him. He was a star, even back then. People adored him. He shone.
It was a lot. Now, don’t get me wrong. I never begrudged him that attention. He’s the kind of person who attracts others, the type of person who draws people into his orbit. Heck, I was one of those people. But back then I could cope with it. Almost. It was restricted to our high school and our small town in the middle of nowhere.
Now, it’s a whole other ball game. Or puck game, more appropriately. It feels like it’s the whole country wanting to congratulate him, to be with him, to wear his jersey. To flirt with him.
Of course I get it. He’s a big deal around here. He’s our hometown hero. Blair told me her client, Cooper Montgomery, was surprised there wasn’t a statue of Dan in the town square, he’s so adored. He might have been saying it tongue in cheek, but it speaks volumes. These days that adoration goes way beyond our town. Those women who mobbed him at the arena after the first game were definitely more than fan-girling over him. There was something of the predator about them, like Dan was their prey and they weren’t going to stop until they had him in their clasp.
I saw it all.
I made out that it wasn’t a big deal and that I could cope with the attention he received, even though I could never compete with girls like that back in high school, and Dan never made me feel as though I had to. But I’ve got eyes. I know I’m not like them. I don’t have their confidence, their sex appeal, their shininess. I love living in my small town, knowing everyone, running the farmers’ market, stopping to chat to the locals about their hip replacements or gardens or what happened on their favorite TV show last night. I love hanging out at Falling for Books, sipping on a mocha, diving into the world of books.