Quick Trick (Rough Riders Hockey 1)

They stood there a long moment, their bodies pressed together, until all auditory signs of Joe were gone. Then she lifted her gaze to Grant. And now guilt filled the pretty blue irises. “I’m sorry.”

He knew instantly she was talking about more than the interruption. And his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“This isn’t…” she started. “I’m not… I mean, I can’t…” She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, “Shit.”

Shit was right. He hadn’t been this turned on, this fast, in for-freaking-ever.

Reality was such a fucking bitch.

“Faith?” Joe called from somewhere in the store.

She exhaled heavily, turned her head, and bit out, “What?”

The uncharacteristic snap in her voice was Grant’s signal to put an end to this. He loosened his hold and eased back.

“Sorry, honey,” Joe said, “but the register is wigging out again. Only you can get it to behave.”

“Okay.” Faith closed her eyes, crossed her newly freed arms, and rubbed her forehead. “I’ll be right out.”

She looked at Grant with apology pouring from her eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to—”

“I get it,” he cut her off, trying to pretend the rejection didn’t matter. Because they both knew it wasn’t the store keeping her from jumping into the deep end with him. “Life’s demanding.”

She dropped her hand and looked between the door and Grant again before she walked out, leaving the door open.

Disappointment pierced Grant’s gut. A kind of disappointment that rivaled losing the Cup. Which was absolutely asinine.

He ran a hand over his hair, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Fuck.”

6

Faith walked the store from back to front, making sure all the aisles were clear, then continued to the door, key in hand. Another long, busy day down on the sales floor. Now came her after-hours work. Pricing, stocking, paying bills, placing orders. Then it started all over again in the morning.

But what kept running through her mind? Grant didn’t come in today.

She refocused on work, approaching the front door. “I feel like an exhausted hamster.”

Sliding her key into the lock, Faith clicked the dead bolt closed. Then she shut her eyes, dropped her forehead against the glass, and sighed.

Her cell rang. Without lifting her head, she pulled it from her back pocket and looked at the screen.

Taylor.

She answered with an upbeat “Hey.”

“You sound tired. Rough day?”

“Wow, and I even tried to sound chipper.”

“Then never mind—”

“Never mind what?”

“I was going to ask if you could get Caleb from practice. One of my interviews pushed our Skype meeting back an hour. But I’ll just tell her—”

“It’s fine. I can get him. Kinda late, isn’t it?”

“He said the high school practice ran long. They had to wait for the rink. Sounded like Grant worked the high school boys hard today.”