Hot Puck (Rough Riders Hockey 2)
When she finished, the deep stillness in the room registered. For the first time since she’d entered the locker room, her lungs filled completely, and a sense of control returned. Her head cleared, and Eden scanned Croft’s face as if seeing it for the first time. Dark brown hair, rich brown eyes, bruises, stitches, sweat. And, man, he was handsome in a rough, almost brutal sort of way.
She eased back, but his big hand remained wrapped loosely around her wrist.
“So, what’s it going to be?” she asked. “Back on the ice for five minutes tonight? Or back on the ice for five years starting tomorrow?”
He relaxed into the gurney but didn’t release her or break her gaze. The faint crinkles at the corners of his eyes told Eden he found her amusing.
But then he confused her by saying, “I want to talk to Donovan before I leave.”
“On it,” someone behind her said, followed by the shuffle of movement as one of the men left the locker room.
Eden lowered her feet to the ground but had to continue leaning over the gurney with her arm in his grip. His gaze seemed to relax too, now scanning her face with a kind of intimacy that made her self-conscious.
“You’re a smart man,” she told him.
“And you’re a pretty little firecracker.”
Pretty? Hardly. She went makeup-free on the job, her hair pulled back into a boring bun. All very efficient and utilitarian, but definitely not pretty. But the compliment still created a hot little buzz low in her body.
She glanced down at his big scarred hand still circling her wrist, surprised at how gentle he could be after seeing what he’d done on the ice. But she’d known that kind of man before. The kind who could stroke a cheek as expertly as he could hammer it. “Think I could have my hand back now?”
Instead of releasing it, he stroked his thumb across the sensitive skin of her wrist, and heat coursed up her arm. “About that date—”
“There was no mention of a date.” She picked up the one remaining strap with her free hand. “Will you let me snap this? Just until we get you into the ambulance?”
“If you’ll talk date with me.”
Strangely enough, she got more come-ons as an EMT than she ever had as a cocktail waitress. “I was asking as a courtesy. You heard the doctor. You have to go in.”
“You’re pretty tough for a girl…”—he glanced down, where her name badge rested at her breast—“Kennedy. That a first or last name?”
The way the man could create heat with nothing but the slide of his eyes was unnerving. More so when she’d spent years building barriers he seemed to blow through with no effort.
She fastened the final strap over his chest and smiled. “Planning on filing a complaint?”
“The only complaint I’ve got is that you’re not taking me seriously.”
She lifted the gurney’s metal arm. “After that hit? Everything you say is suspect.”
He grinned—a big, high-on-life grin that blasted heat straight through Eden. His straight, white teeth contrasted with his dark stubble, and his gregariousness beamed like a beacon, sizzling in the air. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how many times I’ve hit my head over the years.”
“Or maybe I’d say that explains a lot.”
“Good one.” His gaze lowered to her chest again. “Any relation to the Kennedys?”
“Pffft. Right. I’m really an heir to the Kennedy fortune. I do this on the side to create purpose in my life.”
Croft laughed. Eden met Gabe’s you-always-manage-to-win-them-over smirk with a shake of her head. He took the foot of the gurney as they maneuvered out of the locker room and into the cement tunnels toward the ambulance waiting in the bowels of the stadium.
Another player ran up alongside them, still in full uniform and gear, including helmet and skates. “You scared the hell out of us.” This had to be Donovan. He looked a few years younger than Croft and walked along with them through the corridor. “You okay?”
“Fine. Fucking concussion protocol. Listen…” Croft barely took a breath, and his gaze held Donovan’s with surprising intensity considering how lightly he’d been flirting with her only minutes ago. “Don’t let this sidetrack the guys. Get them to channel the emotion into the game and hold the momentum.”
“Got it.”
“With me out, the Ducks will bring in Souza,” Croft said.
“Leftie.”