ZOE

Seven Days Left…

“Thanks for agreeing to help me out today, Tia.”

My younger sister flashes me a big smile from her seat on the metal bleacher. Her feet are stuffed into hockey skates, and there’s a glint in her eye when she says, “Did I tell you that my crush is here?”

“Yeah?” I lift an eyebrow and peek over my shoulder at the group of kids standing around in skates. “Which one is he?”

Tia doesn’t have a shy bone in her body, and she thrusts a finger forward, nearly bopping me in the nose with her enthusiastic finger-thrusting. “Kyle. See the boy wearing the beanie hat?”

Every single one of the young teens is wearing a beanie hat. “Uh, yeah.” I pretend to consider him, even though I still have no idea which one is her actual crush. “Has he asked you to be his girlfriend yet?”

Tia jams her chin on her fist as she slouches down. “Nah, not yet.”

“Maybe he will today?”

“Probably not. He really likes this girl Melissa.”

Call me crazy, but I hate the idea of this Kyle kid choosing someone else over my baby sister. Though, to be fair, having an unrequited crush is par for the course of being a teenager.

Andre skirts into my line of vision, and my heart squeezes.

Maybe it’s part of adulthood, too.

Over the last few days, we’ve surprisingly banded together to get the hockey camp ready in such a short amount of time. The Blades’ administration thought it was a great idea, and between a small group of us, we managed to pull it together ridiculously fast.

Today, the Blades will be joined by one hundred local school kids, including my sister and her crush, Kyle.

“Zoe?”

I turn to my sister. “Mhmm?”

She squirms under my stare. “I don’t want to be mean, but, like, would you go and do . . . something else? It’s bad enough that Mom told me that she’s coming to watch the second half of the day.”

A burst of laughter escapes me. “What, am I ruining your game?”

“Well, I mean”—she glances away at the rink—“it’s just that if you’re hanging around, Kyle definitely won’t talk to me. So, maybe you could . . . ”

Message received, loud and clear. Planting my hands on my knees, I push to a standing position. Unlike most of the people in the ice rink, I’m not wearing skates. I may have developed a fondness for the game ever since working in Detroit, but I’ve never developed my ice-legs, if you will.

Nope, I am currently content to stand on something that isn’t frozen over.

“I’ll check in on you in a little bit,” I say, “or is that still too much for you?”

Tia shrugs. “It’ll do.”

It’ll do—so proper.

Tucking my binder under one arm, I climb down over the bleachers until I’m back on the first level.

Today’s event is officially scheduled to begin in thirty minutes. After I discussed everything with Andre, it was relatively easy to pull Gwen in on the job. She knows countless media contacts in the area, and within three days, we had a waiting list for people who wanted to bear witness to the Blades’ first youth hockey camp. Even Walter managed to drum up some excitement in the last few days leading up to the event. The man hasn’t stopped singing my praises at the office, which is a major turn of events after the Fame-speedo debacle.

But it wasn’t Golden Lights Media or my coworkers who turned out to be the most excited about today—one meeting with Andre, and his teammates were bursting at the seams with anticipation.

Then again, that might be because Andre left them little to no choice.

Either they showed up and made the day a success, or he threatened to take it out on them in practice.

With one glance around the rink, it’s safe to say that they all showed up.

As I’m shuffling my binder into my bag, I sense Andre’s presence just before I hear his rough voice. “You pulled it off, Zo.”

My eyes close at the nickname. “No,” I say, as he steps in front of me, “we did it. Seriously, I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

His fingers brush mine, and I lift my gaze to his masculine face. Hard jawline. Soft, full lips. High cheekbones. The man is too handsome for his own good. “How about we agree to disagree, then?”

I tilt my head. “Do you even know how?”

“How to what?”

“Agree with someone,” I say with a smile. “I didn’t think it was in your genetics.”

He returns my smile, albeit his is a little rustier. “It’s a learned skill set. Thankfully, my teachers have let me out of their evil lair.”

Overhead, I hear the speakers kick on as the Blades’ coach, Hall, takes to the microphone to introduce the players one by one.

“Shouldn’t you go over there?” I ask. “Rejoin your brethren for the day’s activities?”

Slowly he shakes his head. “I will, but not yet. First, I need you to do something for me.”

Immediately, my brain goes to the direst situation. A kid has landed on a skate. A kid has thrown a puck at somebody’s face. A player has accidentally whacked a kid with a stick.

Andre’s hand touches my shoulder, then cups the curve of my neck with a deep laugh. “Slow down, Zo. You’re already thinking the worst.”

“Well, yeah,” I mutter, “but look where we are. It’s a liability waiting to happen, which is why we have insurance in case something happens.”

“Nothing is going to happen.”

At his confident tone, I shake my head. “You don’t know that.”

“I know it well enough.” His hand leaves my neck to tug at my purse’s shoulder strap. “I’m going to need you to put this somewhere. Preferably behind the front counter.”

My nose scrunches. “Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t do surprises.”

“Sure you do.” His big body corrals me backward, until my feet are moving on their own accord to the front counter. Andre lifts my purse and gives it to the kid behind the desk. “Give me a pair of skates for her, would you? Size . . . ” He glances down at me with an arched brow. “What size do you think you are?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. “I’m not skating,” I say hastily. “You know that I don’t skate.”

His mouth curls into a sexy grin. “Just as I know that we’ve been talking about getting you into a pair for two years now. C’mon, Zo,” he murmurs silkily, “don’t let me down now.”

My heart pounds in my chest. “Today is for the kids,” I squeak out pathetically.

That sexy grin of his grows wider. “And it’s also for you. You’ve never let me see you on the ice before.”

“That’s because I spend most of the time on my butt.”

I see the devilry in his eyes just before he murmurs, “There are a lot of ways to make you feel better after.”

He’s a walking hazard, that’s for sure. I eye a pair of black hockey skates, dreading the words that I know are about to trip off my tongue. “What if I say yes?”

“To putting on a pair of skates and getting out there?”

“Yes.”

He steps close, so close that I can catch his delicious scent. “I won’t let you fall.”

My breath hitches. “That’s good.”

“I promise it’ll be better than good.”

And with that promise, he brushes his fingers against my lower back and steps away, leaving me wanting yet again.