Page 3 of Slapshot Baby

Riley glances between us, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

"Well, I'm going to go find my husband before he decides we need to make an emergency trip home to Molly." She touches my arm. "It was good seeing you, Ava."

"You too."

She gives me a quick wave and disappears into the crowd.

When I turn back, Kai's still looking at me.

I take a sip of my drink to give myself something to do. The champagne is terrible.

"So, being captain must come with a lot of responsibility."

Wow, Ava. Riveting. Next, ask him about the weather.

"It does," Kai says.

"Do you abuse it?"

A smirk appears on his face. "Every chance I get."

He steps close enough, I can smell his cologne. Can count the hairs on his neatly trimmed beard.

"That's terrible leadership," I say, slanting my head.

“I never claimed to be a saint, Ava. Just the guy with the C on his sweater.”

I snort, tilting my chin up. “Please. You took the blame for Wyatt’s missed assignment in the third the other night. Sounds pretty damn saintly to me.”

His brow lifts.

“I read the post-game transcript,” I add.

The surprise in his eyes melts into something darker, warmer. "It wasn't his fault. I called the wrong coverage."

"Was it?"

"Doesn't matter now."

He leans against the marble bar, resting a heavy forearm on the polished edge. It’s so casual I almost miss the way he’s subtly trapped me, his broad shoulders cutting off the rest of the glittering room.

"I'm flattered you're tracking my media appearances," he murmurs. "Is sports journalism a passion of yours?"

A flush creeps up my neck. I might have fallen down a rabbit hole of his interview clips earlier, but that was purely professional prep.

"It's called basic research, Donovan."

"Right. Research." A faint smirk tugs at his mouth, his eyes dropping to the line of my jaw with a look so heavy my heart hitches. "Find anything else interesting?"

Images of a shirtless, sweat-glistening Kai on his gym's Instagram flash through my mind. Purely for research, obviously.

"Not a thing."

"Sure, Ava." The disbelief in his voice is rich and warm.

I should step back. Reclaim my personal space and draw a clear line between us.

I don't move an inch.