Breakout (A Dallas Demons Hockey Romance) (2 page)

Chapter 2

The One Online Dating Service Profile Question:
How do you go out on a Saturday morning? Do you dress and get made up for a trip to the grocery store? Or are you a yoga pants and ponytail kind of girl?

My write-in answer:
Damn it, damn it, damn it, why am I not wearing makeup today?

I somehow manage to remember how to sit up, but I’ve lost the ability to speak.

Because crouched across from me is the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

This guy is
hot.
He has a Mediterranean look—olive skin, jet-black hair that is cropped short, and a sexy five o’clock shadow shading his jawline. He’s broad across the chest. No wonder he crushed me when he fell on top of me. And he smells
amazing,
like spice and cedar. I noticed that the second he pinned me to the bleacher with his rock-hard chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, and I hear concern reflected in his deep voice. “Did you hurt your head? Is it cut?”

I notice his gaze is holding steady on mine, and I’m struck by how blue his eyes are. I’ve never seen eyes that color before.

I instinctively reach for the back of my head. And then I feel the messy knot I’ve forced my hair into.

Oh shit. I totally forgot my hair is a haphazard knot.

I also remember I have no makeup on.

Gah, I’m sure I look like a hot freaking mess.

And as a result of this realization, I want to grab my stuff and dive under a bleacher.

“Um,” I say, heat coloring my cheeks as I think of how bad I must appear right now, “yes, yes, I’m fine. And thank you for looking out for me. I should’ve been paying attention.”

He picks up my phone, holding it out to me. “You’re welcome. I knew you wouldn’t see it, and I didn’t want you to get hit in the head. Pucks are dangerous when they’re flying like that.”

I take my phone from his hand, and as our fingers touch, an electric jolt runs down my spine.

“Thanks.”

“And you’re
sure
about your head? You hit it pretty hard.”

“It’s sore but I’ll live,” I say reassuringly, smiling at him.

“Good, living is a favorable prognosis,” he quips, a smile lighting up his face.

And his smile is gorgeous, revealing a perfect set of white teeth.

For the first time in
years
, my heart skips inside my chest.

I reach for my latte cup and place it on the bleacher next to us. “Yes, very favorable. The prognosis for my latte, however, is grave. Half-gone,” I say in a serious tone as I shake the cup. “For a coffee addict this is an elevated level crisis.”

“Hmmm,” he says, glancing at the cup, “so while I saved you from a puck hit, I deprived you of your caffeine. You might want to reevaluate how you feel about me. Because the best I can get you now is arena coffee, which is like offering you a cup of tar.”

My heart jumps again. He has a good a sense of humor, and my pulse accelerates in response to this discovery.

“Yet you make it sound so inviting,” I say dryly.

Now I’m testing him. Most guys don’t get my sense of humor.

But as this guy laughs deeply, I realize he does.

I gather up my notebook and pen. We both rise together, and we’re mere inches apart. Once again I can smell his intoxicating cologne, and I inhale the scent, much like I did the ice when I first walked into the rink.

“I’m Niko,” he says.

“Lexi,” I say, smiling at him.

“Well, normally I don’t shove women into bleachers and fall on them to meet them, but it’s nice to meet you, Lexi.”

I laugh, and he does, too.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say. Then I lift an eyebrow. “Even if you did try to give me a concussion in the process.”

His eyes sparkle at my smart-ass comment.

“I bet a puck to the head would give you a worse concussion that me falling on top of you.”

“True,” I concede.

And not nearly as much fun
, I think to myself.

I sit back down, avoiding the spilled coffee on the step in front of me, and Niko takes a seat next to me, which makes butterflies shift in my stomach.

“So you shoot the players?” Niko asks, shifting his gaze back to the Demons practicing on the ice.

Okay. Niko hasn’t run off after falling on top of me, elected to move to the seat next to me, and is now engaging me in conversation.

I pause for a moment.

Could he be interested in me?

I shake the thought from my head.
Riiiiight
. Guys like Niko are never interested in girls like me.

Guys who are hot like Niko are interested in gorgeous girls.

Girls like Kenley.

I’m the girl they talk with about Demons hockey.

Shit. I absently rub the back of my head. Maybe I do have a concussion from hitting that bleacher after all.

“Um, yeah, I video practices,” I admit. “I like to edit.”

Now I have his full attention. “No kidding?”

“Not kidding.”

His eyes light up again, and I feel a tingling sensation sweep through me.

“What do you edit?”

Since odds are
zero
that Niko would be interested in the redhead with messy hair and no makeup, I might as well reveal my inner nerd to him.

“I edit little features of the Demons. I try to make it whenever they have a Saturday practice at home so I can shoot. Then I edit the video and add music and effects, just to see what I can do with it.”

Niko’s eyes remain locked on mine. “Why the Demons?”

“Because I’m a Puck Slut.”

Niko’s eyes widen in surprise, and I flash him a smile.

“I’m kidding. I’m
not
a Puck Slut,” I say. “I love hockey. I have ever since I went to my first game as a little girl.”

A slow, sexy grin passes over his face. “I don’t know, Puck Sluts love hockey, too.”

I laugh. “Love hockey or the players?”

“
Touché
.”

We both share a laugh.

“Still, editing is an interesting hobby to have,” Niko says.

“I wish it were more than a hobby,” I admit, picking at the edge of my notebook. “I would love to edit sports. That’s what I studied in school. TV and editing.”

“Me, too.”

I jerk my head toward him. “Are you serious?”

Niko grins. “Yeah, I majored in Electronic Media and Film at Townson University. That’s north of Baltimore.”

I feel my jaw drop. “I can’t believe it. I was in the Film-TV-Digital Media program at TCU.”

“So you really do know how to edit,” Niko says.

I nod enthusiastically. “I do, and I love it.”

“I can tell.”

“You can?”

“Your eyes reflect it,” Niko says softly.

My breath catches in my throat. He noticed that? Nobody has
ever
noticed that before.

“You can see that?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah. Your eyes lit up when you mentioned the program at TCU.”

Oh I really hope he can’t read my eyes right now because they would scream how interested I am in him.

“So what do you do?” I ask, trying to refocus my brain. “Are you with the media?”

“I am,” Niko says. “But I’m new to Dallas. I recently moved here, actually.”

“Really?” I ask, curious. “Where from? Baltimore?”

“No, Seattle.”

I furrow my brow. Somewhere in the back of my brain I remember Amanda talking to me and Kenley about someone she knew moving here from Seat—

I’m trying to pull it out of my memory when I hear a familiar voice call Niko’s name.

“Hey, Niko, are you ready for our meeting?”

I turn around and see Ryan approach us. I wrinkle my brow in confusion.

“Ryan?” I know Amanda’s husband had filled in on the Demons package while they were searching for a new producer, as they abruptly had to fire theirs a month ago. But now that they had hired one, I didn’t expect to see Ryan at the rink anymore.

“Hey, Lexi, I didn’t know you knew Niko,” Ryan said, flashing me a smile.

Suddenly I remember who Amanda said was moving from Seattle.

The new Dallas Demons TV producer.

And with a shock I realize who that is.

Niko.

Chapter 3

The One Online Dating Service Profile Question:
How much do you like to reveal to a potential match on a first meeting?

My write-in answer:
Did I tell the sexy new Dallas Demons producer what a hockey fan, editing
nerd
I am?

Oh.my.God.

Niko is the Dallas Demons producer?

The one I just revealed I like to do edits on my phone to?

Ack! This is mortifying. Niko is a
professional producer
. I’m the geek editing videos on her freaking iPhone.

I debate taking the bleachers two at a time in an effort to escape. This is humiliating. He must think I’m a total hockey nerd.

Or worse, a Puck Slut, because I had to bring that up. What if he thinks I am, in the back of his mind?

And I’m beginning to hate the fact that my life is worse than that stupid Kevin Bacon game, and I hate this with the intensity of a thousand burning suns.

“Do you know each other from practices?” Niko asks, shifting his gaze from me to Ryan.

Oh no. What if he thinks I’m a groupie? Shooting video because I think the players are hot?

And now I
know
my face is flaming with the intensity of a thousand burning suns.

Ryan laughs. “No. Lexi is like my kid sister. I’ve known her since college.”

Kid sister. Perfect add on. Now I’m known as the nerd editing, groupie, Puck Slut, kid sister girl.

This can’t get any worse.

“Really?” Niko asks, his brows shooting up.

“Yeah, Lexi is best friends with my wife’s sister. She’s also dating Johansson.”

Niko turns to me. “You’re dating Nate Johansson?”

Somebody please run a Zamboni over me. Now.

“No,” I say, trying to control the blush I feel creeping up my neck. “My best friend is. Kenley. She’s Ryan’s sister-in-law.”

Ryan slings an arm about my shoulders. “Which makes Lexi my other sister-in-law,” he says affectionately. “Right, kiddo?”

Okay, Ryan can stop making me sound like I’m sixteen anytime now.

“Right,” I say, forcing a smile on my face.

“Wow, small world,” Niko says.

“Very Kevin Bacon,” I quip. “With me playing the part of Kevin Bacon.”

“What?” Ryan asks, a lost expression passing over his face, “What on earth are you talking about, Lexi?”

“Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon,” Niko says easily.

Holy shit, Niko knows what I’m talking about?

And despite this entire mortifying interaction, butterflies shift in my stomach again.

“Um, still lost,” Ryan says, interrupting my thoughts, “but we have a meeting to go to.”

“Right.” Niko turns to me. “Final planning for me to take over the broadcast on Monday night.”

“Good luck,” I say. “And congrats on the new job.”

“Thank you,” Niko says, his blue eyes on mine. “I’m glad to be here.”

Yeah, I’m glad you’re here, too
.

“So I’ll see you around?” Niko asks.

I swallow nervously. I’ve obviously lost my mind, or really do have a concussion, because I hope Niko means that and isn’t just saying that as a closing expression.

“You totally will.” Ryan playfully punches me on the arm like an annoying big brother. “Lexi is
always
here shooting players. Especially Harrison Flynn.”

Shit!
My face burns hot, and if I didn’t love Ryan so much I’d kill him.

“Right,” I say, embarrassed beyond belief.

Because now Niko thinks I’m a hockey stalker.

“Well, nice meeting you,” Niko says, nodding at me.

“Thank you again for the rescue,” I say.

“Next time I’ll try not to spill your coffee,” Niko says, flashing me a smile.

I smile back as he heads off with Ryan, no doubt explaining how he saved me from a head injury.

As soon as they are out of sight, I sink back down on the bleacher, still in shock about what just happened. Niko is the most interesting and hottest man I’ve
ever
met. But despite that, I hope I never see him again.

It’s too humiliating. After that whole exchange, why on earth would he have any interest in me? Niko would
not
be interested in the nerd girl taping hockey practices in a pathetic attempt to keep any form of sports editing dreams alive. Not to date, anyway.

He’s sexy. Gorgeous. He would date a
hot
girl, not the editing girl.

Besides, we only talked briefly. Not enough to make an impression on a guy like him. Except for one I’d like to erase, as me being the editing groupie who is apparently no more mature than a teenager and is obsessed with Harrison Flynn.

It’s doubtful Niko will even remember this exchange, with all he has going on with the Dallas Demons and his new job.

But I will.

I open the door to my apartment in Uptown and step inside. After that disaster of an introduction to Niko, I wasn’t in the mood to shoot anymore. So I left way earlier than usual, got another gingerbread latte, and decided to break into Kenley’s chocolate stash as consolation.

“You’re back early,” Kenley says, glancing up from her Mac.

I study her for a moment. She’s sitting cross-legged on our sofa, her wavy blond hair cascading over her plaid flannel shirt and oversized cream cardigan.

Kenley is truly one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, but the thing I love about my best friend is her inside is even more beautiful than her outside.

I drop my bag down on the breakfast bar countertop and slip out of my shoes.

“I wasn’t feeling creative today,” I say, not willing to re-hash the Niko incident yet. “Do you have some chocolate I can break into?”

Kenley lifts an eyebrow at me. “Asking me if I have chocolate is like asking if Whole Foods has organics. Of course I do.”

I laugh. Being that Kenley is a confection consultant, we have an amazing stash of gourmet chocolate in the apartment at all times.

I go to the cabinet where Kenley keeps her chocolates and rummage through it.

“I highly recommend the Vosges Mo’s Cinnamon & Sugar Bacon Bar,” Kenley says.

“Mmmm, you can’t go wrong with chocolate and bacon,” I say, searching for it.

Kenley laughs. “Tell that to Nate, please. He’s revolted by that concept.”

I smile as I locate the bar. While Kenley was all about unexpected flavors and combinations, Nate recoils from them. It’s cute, actually.

“Found it,” I say, grabbing the bar and shutting the cabinet. I head into the living room and sink down on the sofa next to Kenley. “Are you working on your concepts for Casino Night?”

Kenley nods excitedly. “Yes. I need to knock this one out of the park. It’s a huge event, and I’m not only representing myself, but Nate, too, you know?”

“I do,” I say, agreeing with her. “And you’ll nail it like you always do.”

“Thanks.” Kenley shifts her eyes back to her screen and resumes keying on her computer. “I’m still surprised you’re back. You never leave practices early.”

I open the candy bar box and slide the bar out so I can un-wrap the foil. “I wasn’t feeling it today.”

Then I will her to let it go so I can eat some chocolate and pretend I never met Niko.

“Hmmm,” Kenley says, her brow furrowed as she reads her screen.

I pop a piece of the candy into my mouth and notice my sweater has coffee splatters down the sleeve. Oh, brilliant. The whole time I’m revealing my inner nerd to the hottest man ever, I have coffee all over my sweater.

Fantastic.

He’s so never going to acknowledge me again.

Kenley stops typing and I can tell she’s reading something. I savor my chocolate, which is crazy good, and reach for the remote to turn the volume up on the Food Network.

“So nothing happened at practice today?” she asks me again.

“No,” I say, stuffing another piece of chocolate into my mouth.

“Are you sure?”

I stop eating and glance at her. Kenley is staring at me with a cocked eyebrow, as if she doesn’t believe me.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” Kenley says breezily. “According to Amanda, practice was quite eventful for you today.”

Ugh.

“It’s too embarrassing to rehash,” I declare miserably.

“Fight through it.”

I close my eyes. “Abridged version. A smoking-hot guy named Niko fell on me to protect me from getting hit in the head with a puck. I reveal I love taping practices and have dreams of editing. Ryan shows up, makes me sound like a Puck Slut who has the maturity of a sixteen-year-old. Hot guy turns out to be brand new Dallas Demons producer. Mortification ensues. He goes to a meeting. I come home and stuff myself with chocolate. The end.”

“I feel another chapter here. Not ‘The End,’” Kenley declares.

I snort and break off another piece of chocolate. “No.”

“Well, you might be ready to write ‘The End,’” she says, “but Niko isn’t.”

I jerk my head toward her. “What?”

“He just asked Ryan for your cell number.”