Page 65 of Don't Fall for the Goalie
He pulls off his mask, his damp hair curling slightly from sweat as he grabs a water bottle.
Sweet. Lord.
“That should honestly be illegal,” I whisper.
Harper grins. “Told you.” Her eyes are locked on her husband.
Daltyn drinks half the bottle before his eyes lift toward the stands. To me. Then he crooks two gloved fingers, motioning me closer.
My stomach somersaults.
“Oh my,” Allie says dramatically. “He’s summoning you.”
“I’m not going down there.”
“You absolutely are,” Harper says, already helping me up.
Traitors.
Heat floods my face as I carefully make my way to the glass, boot clunking awkwardly against the steps.
Daltyn waits for me near the boards, towering behind the plexiglass in full goalie gear.
Up close, he somehow looks even bigger. More intimidating.
My brain short-circuits. “You’re really big.”
He blinks.
Then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Careful, Peyton.”
Heat rushes into my cheeks. “T-that’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it wasn’t.”
I glare at him while he chuckles softly. The sound does dangerous things to my insides.
He rests his forearms against the top of his stick. “Having fun?”
“I was until your weird goalie yoga traumatized me.”
His grin widens. “That bad, huh?”
“You folded in half while wearing forty pounds of armor. I don’t think I’ll ever recover.”
Connor skates behind him. “She was staring at you like you invented orgasms, buddy.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Daltyn doesn’t even look back. “Keep skating, Byrns.”
Connor cackles while Ford nearly crashes, laughing.
Meanwhile, I consider launching myself directly into the Zamboni entrance and never returning.
Daltyn’s eyes stay locked on mine the entire time. Like he enjoys watching me unravel.
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth beforelifting again.
