her down, prolonging contact. Gross. Even that didn’t matter. All that mattered was delivering the show of her life as a metaphorical middle finger to Francesca and the rest of her tormentors.
By intermission, she couldn’t feel her feet. That wouldn’t last forever. As soon as the skates came off, she’d have to deal with bloody blisters, but years of combining ballet into her training had taught her how to contend with that. She leaned against a wall out of the way and was finishing a bottle of water when Francesca passed by and flashed a predatory smile.
“How’re the skates working out?”
Lori grinned. “Great. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. I’ve never felt better out there.”
Francesca’s face went blank, and she stared for a few seconds before walking away.
Hah! I win.
Of course, winning was subjective in this case. Lori had drained the snark from her nemesis, but she’d be feeling the effects for a week. The second half of the show seemed to drag on even at the breakneck pace. Bradley took a few more liberties, but they both knew she couldn’t full-out slap him on the ice. And at this point, she knew how it would go. The first few times, she’d complained to management, but Bradley had pled innocent, saying she’d never really skated pairs before and didn’t understand he
had
to put his hands where he did. Oh, she understood. Management didn’t. They’d tried to placate her, saying things would change. They didn’t. But for Lori, Olympic training was the bottom line. She needed this job to keep her trainer and free use of the ice.
The finale boomed with glitter cannons and sprays of fire, on par with a New Year’s celebration, as she landed her last jump. The cast formed a line. She took her place in the middle and gritted her teeth as she held hands with Bradley and Francesca. They bowed while the arena cheered and clapped. It was a relief to wave to the crowd as she skated off.
The relief lasted ten seconds before two figures stepped out of the tunnel shadows and nearly gave her a heart attack.
• • •
“Lorelai, hey. You were … that was a really good show.” Only now, seeing the shock on her face, did Dylan question the wisdom of surprising her. But the shock melted away after a minute, replaced by a genuine smile. God, she was beautiful. The shiny costume with a tail of feathers worked for her, but few things wouldn’t. The makeup was sexy, but he knew from earlier that she was even prettier without it. She glanced to his left, and his manners came back. “Oh, sorry. This is Madden. He was the Sinners’ assistant GM until last year. Started his own financial business. His sister owns the team.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled at Mad briefly, but her gaze returned to Dylan and held. For the first time in a year, that warm rush buzzed through him of not only attraction, but something else, too. Nervous excitement that made him feel like he was still in high school. It’d been a long time since he didn’t know what to say to a girl, but damned if he could think of a single word now.
“What do we have here? Dylan Cole? The hockey star came to our show?” A man with an Oompa Loompa tan stepped up next to Lorelai, putting his arm around her waist. She twisted away. While she didn’t throw the man’s arm off, the disgust on her face was evidence enough. He must be the ass. Dipshit held out his hand. “Bradley Harper.”
Dylan considered ignoring the greeting, but why pass by a chance to let Bradley know what he was up against? He took the offered hand and shook firmly, his grip just shy of moving tendons around. Bradley’s neon-white teeth ground together so hard, it was surprising they didn’t crack. His pleasant, cartoon expression didn’t break either, though that was definitely a hint of alarm in his eyes. Good.
“Well, thanks for coming. Maybe I can get to a game sometime.”
Dylan nodded, and Assman turned on his blade and disappeared down the
By intermission, she couldn’t feel her feet. That wouldn’t last forever. As soon as the skates came off, she’d have to deal with bloody blisters, but years of combining ballet into her training had taught her how to contend with that. She leaned against a wall out of the way and was finishing a bottle of water when Francesca passed by and flashed a predatory smile.
“How’re the skates working out?”
Lori grinned. “Great. Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver. I’ve never felt better out there.”
Francesca’s face went blank, and she stared for a few seconds before walking away.
Hah! I win.
Of course, winning was subjective in this case. Lori had drained the snark from her nemesis, but she’d be feeling the effects for a week. The second half of the show seemed to drag on even at the breakneck pace. Bradley took a few more liberties, but they both knew she couldn’t full-out slap him on the ice. And at this point, she knew how it would go. The first few times, she’d complained to management, but Bradley had pled innocent, saying she’d never really skated pairs before and didn’t understand he
had
to put his hands where he did. Oh, she understood. Management didn’t. They’d tried to placate her, saying things would change. They didn’t. But for Lori, Olympic training was the bottom line. She needed this job to keep her trainer and free use of the ice.
The finale boomed with glitter cannons and sprays of fire, on par with a New Year’s celebration, as she landed her last jump. The cast formed a line. She took her place in the middle and gritted her teeth as she held hands with Bradley and Francesca. They bowed while the arena cheered and clapped. It was a relief to wave to the crowd as she skated off.
The relief lasted ten seconds before two figures stepped out of the tunnel shadows and nearly gave her a heart attack.
• • •
“Lorelai, hey. You were … that was a really good show.” Only now, seeing the shock on her face, did Dylan question the wisdom of surprising her. But the shock melted away after a minute, replaced by a genuine smile. God, she was beautiful. The shiny costume with a tail of feathers worked for her, but few things wouldn’t. The makeup was sexy, but he knew from earlier that she was even prettier without it. She glanced to his left, and his manners came back. “Oh, sorry. This is Madden. He was the Sinners’ assistant GM until last year. Started his own financial business. His sister owns the team.”
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled at Mad briefly, but her gaze returned to Dylan and held. For the first time in a year, that warm rush buzzed through him of not only attraction, but something else, too. Nervous excitement that made him feel like he was still in high school. It’d been a long time since he didn’t know what to say to a girl, but damned if he could think of a single word now.
“What do we have here? Dylan Cole? The hockey star came to our show?” A man with an Oompa Loompa tan stepped up next to Lorelai, putting his arm around her waist. She twisted away. While she didn’t throw the man’s arm off, the disgust on her face was evidence enough. He must be the ass. Dipshit held out his hand. “Bradley Harper.”
Dylan considered ignoring the greeting, but why pass by a chance to let Bradley know what he was up against? He took the offered hand and shook firmly, his grip just shy of moving tendons around. Bradley’s neon-white teeth ground together so hard, it was surprising they didn’t crack. His pleasant, cartoon expression didn’t break either, though that was definitely a hint of alarm in his eyes. Good.
“Well, thanks for coming. Maybe I can get to a game sometime.”
Dylan nodded, and Assman turned on his blade and disappeared down the
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