Page 2 of Shootout
“Do you?” I shot back, refusing to bow down. Guys often blamed me for being prickly, and I was when it came to the lack of respect afforded to women’s hockey players. I had little tolerance for men who thought they were superior to women. This guy obviously did.
He ignored my question and stared longingly at the ice. “When are you going to be done?”
“When I’m done,” I shot back. Slater brought out my snippiness without even trying. I’d heard enough about him and his dirty hits, especially the one that landed a Sockeyes star forward on the injury list and brought about my brother’s three-game suspension. The Sockeyes didn’t make it out of the second round with the loss of two top players. Banks Slater wasn’t welcome in these parts, yet through some weird twist of fate, he was now on this team.
“This is my ice, not yours.” His dark eyes narrowed to menacing slits, or that’s how I interpreted his expression. The guy was wearing what appeared to be his most intimidating game face. I rolled my eyes. He thought I was a “lowly” figure skater and he could bully me. He had a lot to learn.
“Funny, I don’t see your name on this rink.”
“I’m a Sockeye. You clearly are not.” He glared pointedly at my white skates and waved. “Bye-bye.”
I balked, instinctively rebelling against his attitude of male superiority. I’d gotten enough of that throughout my life. I’d often been a better player than most men, but I’d been relegated to the women’s teams or a lower line over a less-talented male player. His brand of bullshit brought out the worst in me.
“If you want me off the ice, make me leave,” I challenged him, knowing as a competitive hockey player, he wouldn’t back down from a challenge.
“I could do that. What do you propose?” He perused my body with a sexy smirk. I had a flash of him heaving me over his shoulder and dumping me unceremoniously over the boards.
I mulled over my options in my head and kept coming back to demonstrating to this asshole how dangerous it is to judge a book by its cover.
“Tell you what, hockey boy.” I emphasized theboyand was rewarded with an even deeper scowl. “I challenge you to a shootout from the blue line. Ten shots in ten seconds. Most shots in the least amount of time wins. The loser leaves the rink.” He wouldn’t expect me to come close to keeping pace, so for my part, challenging him would be a win-win for me and a win or lose face for him.
Slater was known for his clever backhanded shots and his lethal wrist shot, but I had a few tricks of my own, including, in my opinion, a better slap shot and pinpoint accuracy when it came to finding the net. I hadn’t been the top scorer at the Winter Games for nothing.
But if I lost…
He snorted and rocked on his skates. His chest vibrated with barely controlled laughter.
“Are you afraid?” I poked at the bear, knowing he’d react exactly how I wanted him to react.
“No, but I can’t understand why you’d want to humiliate yourself like that.”
“I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”
“So all I get when I win is you leaving my rink?” His naughty little survey of my body in my formfitting workout gear seemed to consider me the prize.
No effing way.
“That’s all you get,” I snarled and drew a chuckle out of him. I was at enough of a disadvantage in these figure skates, and I wasn’t betting more than that.
“Who’s going to time us? We need a neutral party,” he said, dropping the sexual innuendos.
We both glanced around, expecting someone to come out of the woodwork. Of course, no one did.
I shrugged.
“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I hope you do,” I shot back, and he snorted, only adding fuel to my fire.
Slater pulled his phone from his pocket and texted someone. A few seconds later, he glanced up. “Geneva will be here in a few minutes to time us.”
“Geneva?”
“One of the equipment staff. She’s working overtime tonight in preparation for the start of training camp.”
“Good. Gives you time to warm up.” I started to skate away before his next words stopped me.
“Don’t you want a few pucks to practice with? You know, those little round rubber disks you can hit with a stick?”
