Page 83 of Ice Queen

Markus Samuels, my own personal shot of caffeine. Sitting up a little straighter, my lips tug at the corner. “Thank you, but…” I say, dropping my voice a bit. “My bedroom voice is even better.”

He groans into the phone. “Damn it, Kaitlyn. I’m about to put my gear on, we already talked about it not fitting in my cup when it’s hard.”

I bite my tongue to keep from laughing. There’s no way I’m letting this go. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Samuels?”

“Kait…” he says through gritted teeth. I bet his jaw is clenched so tight that it makes his neck flex. Man, I’d love to bite down on those traps of his.

I flutter my lashes, feigning innocence even though he can’t see me. “Yes?”

“I just called so you could tell me good luck before I had to go change.”

“Hmmm…” I pause. “Do you regret it now?”

“No, but I’m going to be very uncomfortable for a while.”

“Aww,” I mock. “You poor baby.”

“You know what? I so regret it.”

A giggle falls from my lips, a freaking giggle, like I’m thirteen, looking at my first People magazine. Lord Almighty. “No, you don’t.”

He huffs out a soft laugh, and my smile grows even wider. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Good luck!” I decide to give him a break. “I might miss the first period, at least part of it. I have some things to finish up here first.”

“Aww man,” he pouts. “Can’t you do it tomorrow? I want you to finally watch me play.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if the first time I watched you, it was in person?”

“I mean, yeah. Only if you were there in my jersey, though.”

I start to respond, but he interrupts me.

“Gotta go, just wanted to hear your voice before I got on the ice,” he says as if he didn’t just shoot an arrow through my heart.

“You got this, Casanova.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

“Text me when you get home. I won’t see it right away, but I will during intermission.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a cheeky one, Ms. Tyler.” He laughs. “Gotta go for real.”

“Okay, bye.”

I drop the phone onto the desk, the warmth of it still present against my palm. I stare blankly at the wall, and a low tingling sensation spreads through my chest, down my arms, before settling low in my stomach.

How did I get here? Falling for a man who thinks he’s too much of a risk to love. Yet he wanted to hear my voice before he got on the ice. Not the guys in the locker room. Not the pregame music Hannah told me her husband listens to. Me.

I sink back into my chair, eyes now focused on the ceiling, heart pounding in a way that feels a hell of a lot like love.

God. I never stood a chance.

CHAPTER 27