center line with Siren heading for a goal,
before being deflected and taken over by Luck. On the offensive, and working
down into Siren’s zone, Jake played right wing. Taking control of the puck after
Nate slapped it from the point and missed, he feigned left, then right, then
left again, before skating in front of the crease and smacking the puck. SCORE!
Taking accolades from his teammates and spectators alike, he lined up for the
faceoff. Thirty four seconds to go… Soon the buzzer sounded, ending the period.
Finally!
Ripping
off his gloves and helmet as he flew to the boards, he was up and over them in
a flash. Heading up the stands, he clomped his way to her, not giving a care to
the damage he was doing to his blades. Reaching her, he pulled her up and threw
his arms around her, lifting her right off the ground, then kissed her soundly
to the whoops, hollers, and whistles of the surrounding crowd.
Holding
her tight, he looked at her, and couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. Man,
she beautiful! Speaking softly, he said, “I can’t believe I’m holding you right
now. Thank you for coming.”
“Nice
deke for a right winger, Albrecht,” she responded in amusement.
Jake
nearly fell to his knees. He would die worshiping this woman. She knew hockey!
Holy hell, if football was Kris’s language of love, hockey was his, and she was
speaking his language. Why should he be surprised? This was indicative of her.
“You like hockey, bebis?”
She
giggled, and gave him a quick bow of the head. “Mmmhmm, I’ve got this thing for
a right winger with brown hair and eyes, a five o’clock shadow, lots of big,
strong muscles, and the cutest little behind out there. In fact, I’m saving all
my kisses for him.”
She
was adorable. “I’ll take one of those kisses now, if you don’t mind.”
“Well,
I don’t mind, but Marty might,” she said, with a grin. Her eyes alight with
humor.
What?
Who the hell was Marty? “Marty?” he snapped, as she looked up at him with
devilment in her eyes. She was playing with his head again.
“Yep,”
she said pertly. “Martin Havlat, number twenty-four with the Chicago
Blackhawks. He’s a hottie.” Then she busted out laughing.
The
little trollop. First, she says she likes all of the Bears team, and now that
upstart Havlat. Hah! “Listen up, buttercup, Havlat’s out, as are the Bears. I’m
claiming this territory. Now, give me one of those fantastic kisses of yours,
before I steal one for myself.”
She
nibbled on her bottom lip, then answered, “Alright, just one, then you’ll have
to earn the rest. I want to see some fancy footwork on the ice, mister.”
Running her hands up his chest and behind his neck, she pulled him to her,
laying on him one of those mind numbing, head spinning kisses. Wow! More cheers
from the crowd.
“Hey
Albrecht, save it for later, get your rear in gear. We need you scoring on the
ice, not off it. Now, move it,” one of his teammates yelled.
The
crowd started laughing.
He
didn’t mind. “I love your kisses. Give me thirty minutes, then I’ll be done.
Okay?” he said, setting her down.
“Let’s
go, Romeo,” he heard another of the guys yell.
More
and bigger laughter from the crowd.
She
laughed too, then nodded. “Get going. The guys look like they’re having too
much fun teasing you. They’re dancing around like fairies, blowing kisses, and
acting like lovebirds.”
The
crowd started roaring. “I’m going to kick their asses.” He gave her a quick
peck on the cheek, before turning and clomping his way back down to the ice.
Stopping part way, he turned back to see her standing there watching him. “When
do you go back?” he hollered.
The
crowd roared with laughter, then began chanting, Albrecht, Albrecht,
Albrecht...
“Early
Tuesday,” she answered, yelling so he could hear over the din.
Six
days, he had six days with her. He was so damn happy he was about to burst his
buttons. He nodded, then grabbed his equipment
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