shirt. His blue eyes crinkle, and he lets out a chuckle, seeing me fumble, wiping away the wet mess. I blush, stripped by his powerful stare that even has the reporter glancing over her shoulder to search for what has Cash so captivated.
I look away, crammed within the crowd. I’m shoved from behind by some young girl screaming for Cash’s attention. Steadying myself on my feet, I am shuffled back and forth with the movement of females being ushered by security into the stairwells of the arena to find their seats. When I look back up, Cash is gone. My senses ignite, feeling his eyes, crashing into me from a few feet away. He smiles at me amid the chaos and mouths, “Nice, Mitts.”
In a blink of an eye, Dwight, the general manager, leads Cash into the elevator. When he steps onto the platform with his entourage close behind, he gives me a wink before the shiny silver doors shut on his perfectly sculpted face.
Chapter 4
The instant he steps onto the ice my heart races. When the crowd around us sees him bolt out from behind the bench, his chants of praise tear throughout the arena. The crowd goes wild when Cash slams the opposing team’s star player into the boards, cutting across the ice with the puck dancing against his stick. He’s on fire tonight. My nerves tingle and my insides burn with desire watching him carry the puck up the right side and pass it across the ice. Louis cradles the puck with his stick, pushing past an opposing defender and takes a shot on net.
The puck bounces off the red metal bars, never meeting the white mesh net, freeing the goalie from a black assault. In an instant, Cash is all over the opposing end zone, his stick connecting with the loose puck. His thick broad arms extend back, his stick high in the air ready to explode with force and capture the rebound. The second his blade connects with the puck, it pierces through the air and bypasses the goalie.
The sirens go off and flicker throughout the arena. A mad hysteria of cheers echoes into the rafters and all around the rink. Louis’s arms extend in praise and his smile is a mile long. He engulfs his arms around Cash, slamming him up against the glass. When Cash connects with the boards, eight guys in the crowd with B-R-U-I-S-E-R-S painted on their chests pound their fists against the glass and howl like maniacs. A few other teammates on the ice follow, patting Cash on the back and on the top of his helmet.
Vaughn leans over giggling. “Somebody sure likes to show off. I bet that one was for you Quinny.”
One down, two more to go …I think to myself, swallowing hard. Was he actually serious? A hat trick equals dinner? Oh God…
Cash climbs over the boards and locks eyes with me. My heart picks up speed when he smirks at me from behind the bench. The way he makes me feel is seriously overwhelming. Not only is downright sexy, but he is one hell of a hockey player.
“Miss Ashby?” says a young boy wearing a Bruisers jersey from the concrete steps.
“Yes,” Lyndsey and I both reply in sync.
The boy looks confused, and nervously glances over at Cash, whose focus is back on the game.
“I bet you’re looking for Quinn, aren’t you?” Lyndsey asks.
The boy nods and takes a step forward, looking right at me. “This is for you, from Mr. Brooks.” He reaches across the aisle and hands me a small white box.
“Omigod, what are you waiting for? Open it already,” Lyndsey shouts.
I try my hardest to suppress a smile, when I see four of the most beautifully decorated cupcakes hand frosted a vibrant purple and sculpted to resemble a rose. A little yellow sticky is stuck on the inside of the box in his messy handwriting that says, Swooned yet?
“Omigod! He sent you cupcakes? How sweet is that?” Lyndsey shrieks.
And as much as I want to admit I am more than swooned, I will never give him the satisfaction. A guy like Cash is used to getting his way using his money and charm to make all the right moves and says all the right