Page 12 of Icing on Top

I could see it: a shot from the left to the crossbar, just over Charlie’s shoulder. But then I was being lifted into the air, two solid arms wrapped around my middle.

“Hey!” I cried.

Jeremiah just laughed, his chest rumbling against my back as he turned me away from the goal. I tried to ignore the definition in his forearms and the feel of his strong, muscular torso behind me, but damn was it hard when he was holding me like this. And his deep laugh in my ear? Swoon.

I shook my head. No. He was a married man, and I was coaching his daughter. I could not be thinking about the abs and tight pecs he was totally hiding under his oversized t-shirt.

I shoved at his hands to release myself, and he finally relented, but by the time I’d turned around, he had already nabbed the puck and took off to the goal. I had no chance of catching up to him.

Charlie, however, was having none of it, and knocked his shot away with her stick.

“Daddy! Two minutes for holding. In the box,” she ordered.

She pointed her glove at the penalty box and eyed him. Jeremiah’s head fell back slightly as he let out an overly dramatic sigh before doing as he was told. I laughed softly to myself. Whoever his wife was, she was a lucky woman to have these two—and boy, did she have her hands full.

He continued the act, plopping down onto the bench and crossing his arms over his chest. I joined Charlie at the goal, lightly tapping my stick against hers.

“Thanks for having my back.”

She gave a sharp nod and then reached up to take off her helmet. Little baby hairs stuck to her face and neck.

I tilted my head to the bench. “What do you say we call it?”

Just that little bit of exertion, and I could feel sweat trickling down the nape of my neck. I was terribly out of shape. Maybe I needed to take Jada up on her offer of going to Pilates together. It would be impossible to get back to my collegiate fitness level, but it would do me good to exercise daily and not just at Puffins practices.

Charlie looked as if she might argue, but then the exhaustion won out, and she followed me over to the bench. Realizing where we were headed, Jeremiah exited the penalty box to join us. I wouldn’t have put it past Charlie to tell him to get back in and serve his full two minutes, but she let it slide.

I sat down on the bench harder than I had intended, my left leg giving out halfway through lowering me down. A small groan escaped at the collision of my tailbone and the cold metal.

“You sound like my daddy.” Charlie eyed her dad mischievously.

“Hey, now”—he pointed a gloved hand at her—“I’ll remember that when you’re retired and complaining about back pain.”

I nodded in agreement with him. “Hockey does a number on your body. But it’s worth it.” I sent her a wink.

Grabbing my water bottle, I guzzled down half of it before coming up for air.

“God, I wish concessions were open. What I wouldn’t give for a pickle right now,” I sighed longingly.

Jeremiah shoved Charlie’s hockey gear into a large duffle while she sat down between us to untie her skates. “Give me a second, and I’ll unlock it.”

I stared at him, my brain not fully comprehending the meaning of his words. Maybe I was so desperate for a post-practice pickle that I’d imagined him saying he’d get me one.

“You have a key to the concessions?”

“Yeah. It’s my rink,” he said as if it were obvious.

It most definitely was not.

How did I not know he owned the hockey rink? Uncle Cal just oh-so-conveniently forgot to mention that, on top of Jeremiah being a pro athlete. Or retired pro athlete. Whatever.

If Jeremiah felt me ogling him, he didn’t pay me any mind as he traded Charlie her slides for her skates, snapping guards into place over the blades and adding them to the massive bag. Despite its obvious weight, he slung it over his shoulder with ease as he stood.

“What sounds good to you, Tot?”

“Can we warm up the cheese for nachos?” Charlie asked, already hurrying ahead of him.

I rushed to replace my skates with sneakers, haphazardly tossing my things into my bag before following after them.