Page 58 of Risking the Pucking Defense

When I’ve only got the red dress left to try, I pause, just staring at it. It’s really beautiful, and even without trying it on, I know it’s going to suit my figure. I also know that I’ll need to get it taken up. Full-length dresses aren’t designed for girls of my height. Thankfully, there’s a lovely lady in my building who’s used to having to alter my dresses.

Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra. There’s no way I’ll get away with wearing one under it.

The second I step into the fabric, it feels right, and I curse myself because I just know I’m going to love it enough to buy it, and then it’s going to call to me until I end up wearing it to the masquerade ball this year.

It’s the Vipers first event of the year. Everyone always looks forward to it, and it always brings in heaps of cash for our charities. It’s usually an incredible night and provides us with fantastic media coverage, which in turn leads to ticket sales. It’s all a win-win, really.

I slip the straps over my shoulders and then take a moment before I look up, and the second I do, my breath catches. Goose bumps race over my skin, and when I close my eyes, I can almost imagine that his eyes are on me like they were yesterday.

My temperature spikes, and a steady throb starts up between my thighs. I tell myself that it was Bea’s talk of dick and good sex that’s done it, but deep down, I know otherwise.

“Have you got it on yet?” Bea calls.

I roll my shoulders before reaching for the curtain and pulling it back.

“Holy fuck,” she blurts. “You have to buy that.”

“Agreed,” a deep voice rumbles from the other end of the dressing room.

We both look over, and we find Dylan Harvey with his shoulder resting against the wall, his eyes firmly set on me.

“Looking hot as fuck, Caldwell.”

I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. It’s my specially designed grin that silently tells a man to fuck off. Nine times out of ten, it works. But it seems that Dylan might be the exception.

“She’s totally buying it for the ball.”

“Ah, yeah. The famous Vipers masquerade,” he says, rubbing his jaw as his eyes continue to eat me up.

“What’s wrong? Jealous you don’t get an invite?” I snark.

He barks a laugh. “You’re cute.”

My top lip peels back, and I sneer at him.

“We’re done here,” I say, turning away from him.

“He wants you,” Bea whispers quietly enough that he can’t hear.

“Good for him. Can we leave now?”

“Only if you’re buying that dress.”

I smile at her. “As if I have a choice.”

17

HAYDEN

Being back at the arena with the guys is amazing. The dressing room banter, the jokes on the ice, putting all my equipment on and remembering that there is more to my life than just grief is everything I need.

But the interviews, the questions, and the need to wear a smile all fucking day is exhausting.

Thankfully, there was no talk of Rylee or what I’ve been through this summer, exactly as I want it. But I spend all day on edge, waiting for someone to bring it up. It’s not that I don’t want to talk about her—I do. I want to honor her life and her hopes and dreams in every way I can. Just not today. Not here. Not yet.

I have plans. Plans that will see me telling the world just how incredible my sister was. And when the time is right, I’ll stand up and do her proud. I’m just not sure when that’ll be and how much time I’m going to need. I certainly know that I’m going to need a shit ton of help to get my idea off the ground.

I stand shoulder to shoulder with my teammates, each of us in full equipment and standing on benches to get our final photos of the day. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but while I might have laughed and joked with my teammates, most of my joy today has been fake for the camera.