Page 11 of Cross the Line

I returned my attention to the screen, typing out a message then deleting it. I typed another before debating whether to hit send. Only to do it all again. I’d never been so in my head about a simple text message, but this was Logan Frost we were talking about.

She was funny, sexy, and smart. And damn did she know hockey. It was clear she loved the game, not that anyone would doubt that, not after listening to the Hot as Puck podcast. But it was evident in the way she spoke about the players, rattled off the stats, and the skill with which she skated on the ice.

And despite the fact that her brother hated me, she’d been nice. She’d wanted my help. With what, I didn’t know. But it didn’t really matter. The point was, she’d given me her number.

Me: Good morning from your favorite Hawks player.

I had to wait a few minutes before she responded.

Logan: OMG Holden Hansley. It’s a pleasure to hear from you.

She was totally fucking with me, right?

Me: Very funny.

Me: It’s your *other* favorite Hawks player.

Logan: I didn’t realize you got a new number, Fiz.

I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or groan. This woman didn’t make it easy, but she certainly kept things interesting. I’d told myself to avoid her at Cece’s party, and I’d ended up asking for her number instead.

Me: It’s Carson.

Logan: Who?

I sent her a link to my Wikipedia page as well as to one of my social media accounts.

Logan: Mm. Anyone could send me those links pretending to be Carson Kovalsky. How do I know it’s really you?

Me: Is this your way of asking for a dick pic?

Logan: For someone who promised they weren’t trying to get in my pants *just* last night, they’re not doing a very good job of showing it.

I grinned.

Me: Told you, you’re my kryptonite.

Logan: I’m blocking your number if you don’t stop flirting with me.

Me: Sorry. Flirting is my default mode. I’ll try to be more professional in our interactions moving forward.

Logan: Is that even possible for you?

Me: Now who’s flirting, KT?

Logan: KT?

Me: Kryptonite

Three bubbles danced on the screen to indicate she was typing. Disappeared, then reappeared. While I waited for her to respond, I changed her name in my phone to “KT.”

KT: You know how I mentioned that I could use your help with something?

Me: Yeah. What’s up?

KT: You’re killing it on social media. I could use some tips. If you’re willing to share.

Oh. Okay. Not what I expected, but I found myself grinning.