The edges of his mouth turned up. “I’ve no doubt.”

  “Okay, then.” Camila started to walk again. Standing here, in the dimness, reminded her too much of that storage room. And Declan was too close, smelled too good, and she was pretty sure if they stayed like this much longer, he’d be able to hear the thumping of her heart.

  Declan followed.

  She knew the pizza had already been delivered, because she could smell it. She took a sip from her smoothie to stave off her own hunger. She reached the arena a couple of steps ahead of Declan, but she was sure that it was obvious to everyone that they’d walked in together.

  Camila did appreciate Declan’s warning, though, because it also gave her the interesting information that he hadn’t dated in a while. And despite herself, she liked that about him. Not that his father had died or that it had obviously affected his social life, but that he’d been raw and honest with her.

  “There you are,” Bree said, her gaze sliding from Camila over to Declan, who’d headed straight for the pizza. Obviously it wasn’t a food he avoided.

  The guys who weren’t eating pizza were pulling on their jerseys.

  “Sorry I’m a little late,” Camila said. “Had to grab a smoothie.”

  “No problem,” Bree said. “Dimitri and his crew are already set up. I’m so impressed with them. It’s like they can read my mind.”

  Camila smiled. “Dimitri is amazing. He’s been doing this stuff for a long time, too.”

  Bree looked down at something on her iPad. “I think we’ll have the group shots first, then branch off individually.” She tapped her screen. “What do you think?”

  “Yeah, I like that idea.”

  Bree said nothing but held her gaze.

  “What?” Camila said at last.

  “I think we have an audience,” Bree said. “And I’m not sure why.”

  Camila glanced over her shoulder. Two of the Northbrook guys were standing about five feet away, watching them, as if waiting to speak to Bree or Camila. It was Jax Emerson and Zane Winchester.

  Camila smiled. “Hi.”

  Zane nodded. “We need to talk to you for a second.”

  Bree lifted her brows and cut her gaze to Camila’s.

  “About . . .?”

  “Declan,” Jax said.

  “Okay,” Camila said.

  Bree stepped back. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

  What is going on here? Camila wondered as Jax and Zane approached.

  “So,” Jax said, his gray eyes glinting. “We heard about your date tomorrow with Declan.”

  Camila’s throat went dry. This was really, really direct. She hadn’t realized she might be confronted.

  “We need to make sure you’re prepared,” Jax continued.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “He’s not kidding,” Zane deadpanned.

  “Declan is secretly a Star Trek nut, but don’t bring it up or tease him about it.”

  Camila frowned. “Okay . . . ”

  “And,” Zane cut in, “He talks in his sleep, like he’s a sports announcer for a hockey game. Not that you’re going to, uh, have to worry about that quite yet.”

  Were these guys serious? She didn’t know them well enough to figure out if they were kidding.

  She glanced over at Declan, who was already on the ice, his pizza apparently eaten. He wasn’t looking her way, and it wasn’t like she could hurry over to verify this information. “Well, thanks for the heads-up.”

  Jax nodded, his expression completely somber, and Zane held out his hand for a knuckle bump.

  Camila tapped her fist to his, then watched the pair walk away.

  Soon they were on the ice too, and Camila moved to the plexiglass. Dimitri was ordering the guys around, totally in his element. Only five guys were on the ice. Everyone except for . . .

  “Hey,” someone said next to her.

  She looked over at Rocco.

  “Heard about your plans tomorrow night,” he said in a low voice.

  She blinked.

  “I need to give you a bit of advice,” Rocco said. “He’s a sucker for Celine Dion. I mean, if it pops up on the radio, tears will come to his eyes, and he’ll break out into song.”

  Rocco couldn’t be serious, but his brown eyes didn’t waver from hers. There was no hint of amusement in his. These guys were good . . .

  “I have a confession,” Camila said. “I love Celine too.”

  Rocco’s eyes widened. “Oh, um, that’s great. Good for you. Good for you both.”

  “Rocco?” Dimitri’s voice echoed in the arena.

  “Gotta go.” Rocco rested a hand on her shoulder. “Good luck tomorrow. If he gets out of line, let me know.”

  Camila held back a smile. “Thanks.”

  She watched Rocco join the others, and soon they were going through the various motions of posing together, then skating together, then answering some questions as a group. Quite a bit of teasing occurred, and Camila was pretty sure not much of that footage could be used. The couple of times Declan looked her direction, Camila felt herself flush.

  “Now for the individuals,” Dimitri told the guys. He started with Trane, and Bree prompted him with a couple of questions.

  Clint went next, then Declan.

  Camila couldn’t hear what was being said, and she wasn’t about to walk on the ice with her boots. She snapped a couple pictures on her phone so that the guys could use them later for social media. Bree might want them too. After a moment, Camila sat on one of the players benches to watch.

  Paige texted: How’s it going so far? Anything you want to share with me?

  Nope, Camila wrote, adding a wink emoji. Then she had compassion on her friend and wrote, Declan said the guys know about the date and will give me a hard time. That’s already in full force.

  Ooo. Can’t wait to hear about it.

  Camila shouldn’t have been surprised when Clint skated over to her after he’d finished his session.

  “How is it looking?” he asked.

  “Great,” Camila said. “I got some shots that you guys can share to your Instagram pages. I’ll have Declan forward them to you.”

  Clint nodded. “Speaking of Declan . . .”

  “Yes?” Camila asked in a sweet tone.

  “He loves the scent of mosquito spray, so you should spritz a little on your clothing before your date,” Clint said.

  “Great to know,” Camila said, holding back a laugh. “Thanks a million for the info.”

  Clint flashed her a smile, then skated off.

  It wasn’t too long before Trane lumbered off the ice. He packed up his skates, then pulled on tennis shoes. Next, he grabbed a slice of cold pizza and ate it, then downed half a Gatorade. He glanced a couple of times at Camila, and she knew he was just biding his time.

  Sure enough a few minutes later, Trane joined Camila where she was sitting on the players bench.

  He settled a few feet from her, but with his size, it felt like he was taking up the whole bench.

  “I didn’t mean to spill the beans,” Trane rumbled.

  “You look so remorseful.”

  Trane smirked. “Do I?”

  “No.”

  He laughed, and Camila smiled. “So, what are you going to warn me about?”

  Trane met her gaze. He was a good-looking guy, a sweet guy to be honest, but he didn’t send her belly fluttering like another hockey player seemed to be able to do.

  “He might be a little out of practice, but don’t hold that against him,” Trane said. “I’ve known Declan since we were kids at Northbrook, and I always knew he had my back. No matter what.”

  This was not what Camila had expected to hear. From what little Trane had told her about his upbringing, it had been rough. “I’m glad someone had your back.”

  “Yeah . . .” Trane looked away for a moment. “I had some tough years, but Declan was always steady. When the other guys would give me a hard time about showing up with a torn jersey or being late for practice cause I had to catch multiple buses or being so hungry on some days that I ran out of steam, Declan was there handing me food his mom had packed for him or telling me his mom would fix the rips in my jersey. They even gave me a ride home a few times.”

  Camila blinked against the burning in her eyes. She could only nod, because her throat had tightened.

  “Anyway, I thought you should know.” Trane rose to his feet. “Declan deserves something good in his life for once.”

  Camila literally had no idea how to reply to that. Did he mean going out with her would be that good thing?

  But Trane was already back on the ice, slapping shoulders with Rocco as they laughed about something.

  Camila didn’t move for a minute as she thought of what Trane had told her. On one hand, she grieved for Trane’s hard childhood, and on the other hand, she was happy that he had the Northbrook guys there to help him through it. More specifically Declan.

  And now she was watching him. Trane had skated over to Declan, and the two talked for a second, with Declan glancing over at her.

  So . . . were they talking about her now?

  Camila didn’t know how to react, but she was pretty sure she was blushing.

  It was only about a minute later when Declan skated over to the players bench. Camila stood as she watched him approach. His Chargers jersey fit looser without all of his pads. But that only brought more attention to the broadness of his shoulders and the definition of his torso. He was taller on skates, but Camila’s heeled boots made her taller too.

  “Hey,” he said when he reached the wall.

  “Hey,” she said back.

  “Are we still good?”

  She fought the smile tugging at her lips. “Yes.”

  Declan didn’t fight his smile. In fact, he was grinning when he skated back to his group.

  The entire arena booed, echoing Declan’s exact feelings. The Seattle Blacks had just scored, again. Coach motioned for him to come off the ice, and Declan knew he was done for the night. Second period, and he was already benched.

  But the last two goals scored by the Blacks had slid right past Declan before reaching Runt.

  And of course, Declan was paying the price. No surprise there.

  Card was on the ice, slamming into the Seattle players. Two minutes later, he had a penalty and was sent to the box. Now Seattle had the powerplay.

  The arena started to chant, “Dice, Dice, Dice,” but Coach’s pursed lips told him the chanting was futile. The fact that the coach would rather have Card on the ice, versus putting Declan back in, only made his stomach hollow out.

  He’d been benched, and over the past week, he’d played less than any time with the Chargers. His shoulder was no excuse.

  Declan kept his eyes on the game, not showing his emotions as Card came out of the penalty box. Declan didn’t even look to where his mom and Camila were sitting together. He didn’t want to see the worry on his mom’s face, and who knew what Camila’s expression would be? When the buzzer sounded, ending the second period, Declan was off the players bench first.

  He trudged into the locker room and waited for whatever lecture the coach had to deliver.

  Runt walked in and sat next to him.

  “I need to tell you something,” Runt said.

  “I already know I suck,” Declan said. “All of Denver knows it.”

  “It’s not about the game.”

  The coach entered the locker room and set into his spiel, but Declan didn’t hear much. His mind was on what Runt had said. But it wasn’t until they were heading back to the third period that Declan could talk to him.

  “What’s up?” Declan asked Runt.

  “Stephen Goodman on the Seattle team is Camila’s ex-boyfriend.”

  Declan snapped his gaze to Runt. “How do you know?” Goodman was a left defensive player like Declan.

  “He’s been mouthing off about her,” Runt said. “Sounds like he knows she’s here tonight.”

  At this Declan went silent. Obviously Camila had known Goodman was coming into town. It wasn’t like she had to tell Declan anything, though. They hadn’t even officially gone on a date yet. “How long ago did they date?”

  “I don’t know, but it sounds recent if he’s still spouting crap on her.”

  “Tell Coach to put me in,” Declan said.

  Runt’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Talk to him, he’ll listen.”

  But Coach didn’t listen. The Seattle Blacks won the game three to one, while Declan sat on the bench counting down the minutes, watching Goodman. He was a hothead, but that didn’t necessarily bother Declan. It was the fact that any guy, former boyfriend or not, would disparage a woman.

  Runt seemed to be reading his mind, because as the Seattle Blacks were celebrating their win, Declan felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t even think it,” Runt said.

  “I’m not thinking it,” Declan said. “I’m doing it.” It wasn’t too surprising that Runt knew Declan wanted to punch the living daylights out of Stephen Goodman.

  Runt tightened his grip on Declan’s shoulder. “You’ll get fined by the league, and then you’ll be on the chopping block.”

  That alone stopped Declan. He’d finally gotten his mom to Denver, and she was enjoying her stay so far. The Chargers could use an after-game fight against him. And judging by the coach’s actions the past week, Declan knew they’d try.

  Runt stuck close to Declan on the way to the locker room. Declan nodded to Loop, but he didn’t speak to anyone else.

  Fifteen minutes later, when Declan stepped out of the locker room, Runt was waiting for him. “Babysitting me today?” Declan asked.

  “Just helping you out.” Runt motioned down the corridor. “Besides, you have someone waiting for you, and I didn’t want you to mess that up.”

  Declan looked down the corridor. Normally, he’d expect to see his mom waiting, but she’d left sometime during the third period. She knew, as he did, he’d be benched the rest of the night. Besides, Princess needed her ice water.

  And although Camila had agreed to go out to dinner with him, he was surprised to see her. Especially after such a horrible game. He wouldn’t have blamed her for ghosting him. But how the heck did Runt know that Camila was waiting for him?

  She was currently talking to Loop, so maybe she wasn’t waiting.

  Camila was back to wearing a ball cap, with a long jacket that reached almost to her knees. No baggy pants, though, but dark leggings and short boots.

  Hammer came out of the locker room. He gave a brief nod to Runt and Declan, then kept walking. No one was in the mood for socializing tonight.

  Declan rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Loop said goodbye to Camila, but now Hammer approached her.

  Declan didn’t know if he had the stomach to deal with Hammer tonight if he decided to flirt with Camila. But right now, Hammer was the least of Declan’s problems. He was more annoyed at what Runt had told him about Stephen Goodman. That, and the fact that the coach apparently had a bone to pick with Declan.

  Camila smiled at Hammer while they chatted.

  Declan went on alert. But the conversation was short, and Hammer headed out of the arena.

  Just like that.

  “Well, I’m outta here,” Runt said. “Have a nice night.”

  “See you,” Declan said.

  Runt walked away and slowed to talk to Camila for a few seconds, then continued on until he disappeared around the corner.

  Camila looked over at Declan. So maybe she was waiting for him.

  He shouldered his duffle and walked toward her.

  She folded her arms as he got closer, her shadowed eyes on him. He really didn’t like that hat of hers.

  “Change your mind about dinner?” he asked, stopping in front of her.

  Her gaze moved over him. “Should I?”

  He tightened his grip on his duffle. “Bad night for me.”

  “Me too.”

  “Yeah, uh, Runt said something about your ex playing for Seattle,” Declan said, knowing it was none of his business, but he would be happy to meet the punk in any alley, anywhere.

  “Runt’s kind of nosy.”

  “Can’t argue with that.”

  “In fact, so are your Northbrook friends,” she said, lifting her chin a fraction. “I mean, the stuff they told me about you—”

  “None of it was true.”

  Her lips curved. Declan didn’t think she was wearing lipstick, but her lips were rosy all the same. “I know, and they were all ridiculous,” she said. “Runt said you wanted to punch out Stephen.”

  “He deserves it.”

  “You don’t know anything about him.”

  “I don’t have to,” Declan said. “Runt heard him say a couple of things. That’s enough for me.”

  She studied him. “My opinion still stands. You are a Neanderthal.”

  The way she said it, though, was no criticism.

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  Her hands went to her hips, and yep, he looked.

  “Stephen’s not worth it, believe me,” she said. “And we both know it would be a death sentence if you did anything. Don’t you care if you get traded again?”

  “I care, but some things are more important than a hockey game.”

  A heartbeat passed as she stared at him.

  “I can handle my ex, and whatever he might say about me,” Camila said. “So, don’t risk what you don’t have to.”

  He wanted to take off her hat, to fully see those green eyes of hers. He didn’t mind her chastising him; in fact, it sort of made him want to kiss her again.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay?” Her tone was incredulous.

  He nodded.

  She released a breath. “What happened out there on the ice tonight? What shut you down?”

  He’d never had someone ask him point-blank like that before. Sure, he’d been yelled at by plenty of coaches, and even a couple of owners. He’d even met with a sports psychologist when playing for his second team. The psychologist had told him to listen to relaxing music before every game. Ha.

  When he didn’t answer right away, Camila said, “Are you avoiding my question?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “But I’m starving. Maybe we can talk about my messed-up psyche over some hot food?”

 

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