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Chapter 1
Jayden Sommers
The Charleston Renegades are on their home ice, and the crowd is extra pumped up since we are playing the Chicago Blades tonight. Both teams are in a race for a playoff seat, so it’s been a close game so far. I'm on the edge of my seat, leaning forward as if I could propel our team to victory with my sheer willpower.
"Jayden, you're practically chewing your jersey," Mimi, my best friend and roommate, says with a laugh.
I glance down and realize she's right; the fabric of my Renegades jersey is bunched up between my teeth. "Can't help it," I reply, releasing the material and grinning at her. "It's like watching gods at war out there."
"More like watching an ad for cologne where everyone's ridiculously chiseled," Mimi teases. She scans the players on the ice and those on the bench. "Remember the college games? All gangly limbs and baby faces?"
"Totally," I agree, chuckling as I remember the scrawny figures. “And that’s exactly why we come to the pro games instead of going to the games where we actually get free tickets since we’re students.” We watch as one of the pros slams against the boards, muscles surely rippling beneath his jersey. "These guys are like the evolved version. Hard edges, full beards, and thighs that could probably crush a watermelon."
"Sexier, for sure." Mimi nods. Her gaze lingers on a Chicago Blades player with the name Watson patched on the upper portion of the back of his jersey as he just scored a goal. "There's something about the way they handle the puck, so... confident, so sure. Like they know exactly what they're doing and they're going to take control, no matter what."
"Or who," I add with a sly grin, feeling the flush that always accompanies thoughts of some man taking control. It's the kind of thing that fuels my hidden stash of spicy romance novels, the ones that would make my mother fan herself with shock.
"Exactly," Mimi murmurs. "Makes you wonder what kind of power plays they're capable of off the ice." She winks at me and bumps my shoulder with hers
"Probably the kind that involves less clothing," I muse aloud. There’s one Charleston Renegades in particular. Their captain.
Mimi leans over to whisper shout, "You know what we need after this? A night curled up with a good, extra spicy hockey romance book."
"God, yes," I agree, picturing the steamy scenes that are my guilty pleasure. "But you know, if my mom ever found them..." I trail off, imagining her wide-eyed horror.
"Jayden Sommers!" Mimi gasps, mimicking my mother's scandalized tone to perfection. "Are you reading smut?" We burst into laughter. “Girl, I know, I know… That’s why you keep reminding me to hide our book collection.”
My mom's Christian book club would have a collective heart attack if they saw my bedside drawer stacked with tales where the only goals scored are of the carnal kind. It’s my own private rebellion, one that keeps me blushing and occasionally looking over my shoulder.
"Hey, do you see—" Mimi starts, but suddenly the arena erupts.
"Fight! Fight!" The chant swells like a wave, and our heads whip back to the action unfolding on the ice.
There he is—Ryder Raines, number 27, Captain, all dark intensity and brooding power. He's nose to nose with an opposing player, their gloves dropped, their chests heaving. Ryder's jaw is set, his stance wide. There's a wildness there that sets my heart pounding in a way no book can replicate.
"Ryder's about to throw down," Mimi says.
I can't tear my eyes away. His ice-blue eyes are ablaze, every muscle coiled. He's a storm personified, and the raw display of emotion is affecting a tension in my core.
"Think he needs a good... defusing?" Mimi teases, nudging me with her elbow, well aware of the crush that simmers within me.
"Only if defusing means pinning me against a goddamn wall," I murmur back, my cheeks heating at the thought.
"Spoken like a true romance heroine." Mimi grins, bumping her shoulder against mine again. My gaze stays fixed on Ryder, on the man who somehow embodies every fantasy hero I've ever read about yet remains achingly out of reach.
"Remember last summer at Sand Dunes?" I say to Mimi, my voice barely climbing over the roar of the crowd. "When I was waiting on his and his friends’ table and you dared me to bring him the 'special' wings?"
Mimi laughs. "How could I forget? You were all flushed and stammering when he looked up at you."
"Thanks for the reminder," I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Most embarrassing day of my life was when I stumbled just as I was walking up to him and dumped all the wings in his lap.” We both burst into laughter once more. “Yeah, but the worst part was that I immediately started trying to clean up his crotch, touching him in places I should not have been.” We laugh some more. “God, so embarrassing!”
"Speaking of Sand Dunes, since I’m not working there anymore, how’s work been."
"Busy," I reply, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. "But it helps take my mind off things... Like term papers, and, well, complicated crushes."
"Complicated is one word for it," she says with a chuckle. And it's true—juggling shifts at the grill with my business major at Charleston University leaves little room for anything else, especially not the tangled web of longing and fantasy that Ryder represents.
"Tell me about it," I say, my gaze wandering back to the ice where Ryder now skates with ferocious grace.
