“And the thirty times before that?”

“I was tolerable toward him,” he said, then smirked. “Most of the time.”

“He deserved it.”

The lights went out, the regular pregame introductions started, and they stood up with the rest of the rowdy crowd, allowing the energetic atmosphere to consume them. “You won’t tell Henrik I’m dating someone, will you?” Drew yelled above the crowd.

“Of course not.”

“It’s not that I’m intentionally hiding it from him, because if he asked, I wouldn’t lie. However, this is Henrik—”

“He’s too concerned with his own shit to even think to ask—” she finished for him.

“Pretty much.”

“Look—” she placed her arm around her best friend’s shoulder, pulling him toward her “—I won’t ruin your next brotherly bonding moment. I officially have a leash on my blabbermouth. Just promise me that I can be there when you finally tell him.”

“You better be there,” he instructed, his eyes growing dark. “You’re not running off anymore. These past two years without you felt like ten. This is your home. We are your family. You belong here with us.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, sighing. He had no idea how much she needed to hear that right now.

The game started, and both Austin and Henrik seemed to be having a good night, but that was usual for them. They always excelled when they played together, which was why Leila got the pleasure of watching them win two national titles while in college. They’d been separated during the draft, Henrik going to Calgary in the first round, and Austin coming to New York in the early second. It didn’t take long for Austin to work his way up from the fourth line, and when he became the Rangers leading scorer, he made the request for a leading assist man in the league. That spring, the management traded for Henrik just before the trade deadline, and the Rangers made it all the way to the conference finals that year.

She smiled as she watched her brother and Henrik speed down the ice next to each other. To think, the day she watched them graduate, she actually thought she’d seen the last of Henrik Rylander. Drew leaned over and whispered in her ear as the crowd jumped to their feet after a great save by the goalie. “Seriously, Leila. What’s going on between you two?”

Leila turned, confused. “Between who?”

“Between you and Mr. Can’t Focus On The Game over there.” Drew gestured, pointing toward the ice.

Henrik, first in the long line of players sitting on the bench after their line change was the only one not watching the game. No, Henrik looked directly across the ice at her. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

“I know all of Henrik’s looks,” Drew explained, his gaze contemplative. “That one, I don’t recognize.”

“You’re reading too much into it,” she tried, but she had to admit, she didn’t recognize it either. It was intense and analytical, making her wonder if maybe he was simply trying to figure out the same thing she was right now.

What the hell was she doing here?

Not just at the game, but in New York in general. Was she running away, or making a pathetic attempt to move on? Either way, she was failing at both. She dropped his gaze, afraid he might see the truth in hers, not that it wasn’t painfully obvious. She was an erratic mess who didn’t have a clue. She was pretty sure everyone knew by now.

Chapter 8

 

 

HENRIK’S GIFT

Henrik rubbed a tired hand over his face, frustrated by the usual media scrum surrounding him at his locker after the game. He’d shot the overtime winning goal, so unfortunately, that meant he was the hot commodity for an interview. He’d asked them to repeat the same question twice, because he was too busy thinking about Leila to pay attention.

She’d come to the game.

He knew Drew planned to drag her out of the apartment one way or another, but he wanted to think it had something to do with their conversation earlier that day. He wasn’t sure why he cared, but he did. There was no point lying to himself about it. For some unfathomable reason he wanted her there tonight. He’d felt it as soon as he spotted her, that rush of adrenaline hitting his system. It usually only happened after a goal, or right before a fight, but tonight all it took was her presence. It was very similar to how he felt that night after opening his hotel room door to find her standing there all leggy and vulnerable, scowling at him.

He wasn’t willing to let that sensation go quite yet. It made him feel alive, or maybe it just made him feel something. Either way, he wanted more. Craved it.

He graciously waved off the remaining questions and made a beeline for the showers. It was the fastest exit he’d made from the locker room in years, and even then, he was too late. As he walked out of the door toward the waiting area for family and friends, only Drew stood waiting for him.

The disappointment must have been evident on his face, because his brother glared at him. “Nice to see you too,” Drew scoffed, a tight frown on his boyish face.

“Where is she?”

“Austin is showing her around. They’re going to meet us at O’Riley’s.”

“All right. Let’s go.” He slung his bag over his shoulder, and that’s when Drew noticed it. The puck clenched in his hand. Drew grabbed his wrist, turning his palm over to reveal the tape around the side that showed the date and score of the game.

“Is that what I think it is?” Drew inquired, the accusation obvious.

“I hit the game-winning shot in overtime,” he explained casually, but he could already tell his brother saw through his façade.

“You’ve hit loads of game-winning shots, but I don’t see hockey pucks commemorating them anywhere. What were you planning on doing with that one?”

He scowled.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Indictment was thick in his tone as they squared off toward each other.

“What?” he asked, offended.

“A game puck? Cliché much?” Drew’s jaw was clenched tight, and it was obvious it had gone past mere annoyance now. “You’re one of the hottest bachelors in New York, and definitely the most accomplished at it. Do you think I’m going to step back and say ‘go for it, tiger’?”

“It’s just a hockey puck, Drew. It’s not like I bought her a bouquet of condoms.”

“I don’t want to have to keep telling you this,” Drew warned, bringing himself up to look him dead in the eye. “I don’t want your pucks or your eggs anywhere near her.”

Drew gave him one more daring stare before turning around to stalk off. Unwilling to concede, he waited until Drew was about five feet away before taking aim and hitting the wall just in front of him with the puck.

Gaping, his brother whirled around, but before he could say anything, he had him under the arm, dragging him back so they could have a private conversation while his other teammates started piling out of the locker room.

“Why are you trying to—?”

“Cock block you?” Drew interjected, jerking himself away.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say!”

“Well, that’s what I’m trying to do,” Drew shot back. “I thought I made myself very clear. She’s my best friend. You’re not pulling your usual bullshit on her.”

He was absolutely bewildered, mostly because Drew didn’t have a clue. Giving Leila a puck wasn’t part of his usual tactics. Hell, he didn’t need tactics, or lines, for that matter. He simply showed up, or invited them over, and well, that was it.

Game over.

Score one for the home team.

That may have been his original desire when she showed up, but it hadn’t been what he thought when they handed the puck to him during their post-game roundtable.

“I’m just trying to be nice to the girl, all right?”