She got one of her playlists going through Duncan’s speaker system. First song up was “Happy” by Pharrell Williams. Perfect. She paused to listen. Her toes started tapping to the catchy rhythm, her body moving as well. She deepened her bopping and turned back to the kitchen, dancing her way across the room. When she looked up, Marc’s eyes were on her and they were hot.

She almost missed a step but determinedly kept going, dancing over to him and shimmying up near him. Yes, she was being provocative. Flirtatious. And Duncan was right there. She didn’t care.

She grabbed Marc’s hand and pulled him away from the island into a more open area and started a quick, improvised jive kind of dance. To her surprise, he picked up the rhythm, took both her hands, and spun her into his arms, then out again. She grinned at him as they danced. Damn, he was a good dancer! And the song was just so bouncy. A bubble of joy swelled inside her, up into her throat and out through her mouth in a laugh as he twirled her again. They faced each other, and just as the song ended, he spun her into him, her back to his front, his arms around her.

There was a brief pause before the next song started and she looked at him up over her shoulder. His eyes gleamed. A snap and crackle passed between them, and then he released her. She laughed again, a little breathlessly, and straightened the yoga top she still wore.

“What the fuck?” Duncan said, watching them with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, lighten up, Dunc, we’re just having fun. It’s a good song.” She tapped his cheek as she moved past him into the kitchen.

“Never seen you dance,” Duncan said to Marc.

Marc shrugged.

“You’re a good dancer, Marc,” Lovey said. “We should all go out dancing sometime. I haven’t been to any dance clubs since I’ve been here.”

Both guys made grunts of what could have been agreement or maybe they were non-committal, but whatever. Like the song, she was happy.

Chapter 17

“He’s in rehab.”

Marc shared the news with Lovey just over a week later.

“Oh my God. Really?” Her pretty eyes went wide.

“Yeah. Somewhere in California, apparently. Coach told us all in a meeting this morning. He didn’t give us a lot of details.”

“Oh wow.” She shook her head. “Well, I hope Dale gets the help he needs and he’ll be back better than ever.”

“I hope so too. The guys were all kinda shook up.”

“He’s an important player to the team. Enforcer.”

“Yeah.” Marc’s lips twisted. “Just means we all need to step up for one another.”

She nodded, her eyes warm on him.

She sat on the couch with her computer on her lap and her earbuds for her iPod hanging over her shoulders now. She’d been listening to music when he came in, home from their practice. For some reason, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about getting home to tell her the news and get her take on it.

“Sorry, I’m probably interrupting your work.”

“No problem. I am working, but it’s okay.” She set the laptop on the coffee table. “So. What are they doing to replace Dale?”

“Calling up Ryan Kirby from Rockford.” The farm team. “Young guy, only ever played a few games in the NHL. Know him from training camp.”

“Is he big?”

“Yeah, but not like Dale. Not that kind of player. Faster.”

“Oh.” She nodded. “Is Coach going to move some lines around?”

“Probably.”

She thought about that.

He liked being able to talk to her about hockey; she got it. “So…I have to go to this thing tonight…I know it’s kind of short notice, but…” Christ, he sounded like a high school kid asking a girl out for the first time. “But I was wondering if you might want to come with me.”

She blinked. “What kind of thing?”

“It’s at this school. It’s an inner-city school for high-risk kids.”

A small notch appeared between her eyebrows.

“I do some work there,” he said. “Help raise some money. They just completed a big renovation and tonight’s the open house to celebrate.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“It’s not fancy. It’s just a school. Some of the kids there are cool. But you don’t—”

“I’d love to come. I was thinking the other day that I need to get more involved in some kind of service work. I used to volunteer at Priscilla House in Madison—they help abused women. It’s good to do stuff like that. You seem to get a lot out of helping sick kids and it made me think that I hadn’t gotten involved with anything here yet.”

“You just moved here.”

“I know. But still. I didn’t know you did other stuff too.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. The Aces Community Foundation supports this school, so I got involved. It’s been good.”

“So, what time?”

“It starts at seven.”

She bit her lip.

“What? Problem?”

“What should I wear?”

He laughed, relieved at the simple question. “Whatever you want. I’m not dressing up that much, just dress pants and a shirt.”

“Okay. That helps.”

“Hey, we should go get dinner first.”

“Sure. Okay. You pick a place, make a reservation if we need one. I’ll go inspect my wardrobe.” She stood.

“That could take a year.”

She shot him a very female look over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. He grinned, letting his eyes drop to her ass as she turned away. Nice.

The neighborhood the school was in wasn’t the greatest, but he knew a restaurant between here and there that was good. They didn’t take reservations, but it was a Tuesday night and it shouldn’t be that busy. They’d just have to leave in good time.

He checked the time on his cellphone. He’d go screw around on Twitter and Instagram for a while. He tapped on Lovey’s door.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll leave at five.”

“Okay! I’ll be ready.”

He turned and entered his own room. Social media. That was Lovey’s business. And he still hadn’t checked out her blog. Time to rectify that.

He closed his bedroom door behind him and booted up the laptop on his desk. While it was starting, he took off his jeans and moved around the room in his boxers and T-shirt, putting some clothes away, straightening books. He liked things neat and orderly. Chaos and clutter bugged the shit out of him.

What the hell had she said the name of her blog was? Sugar Blossom. Cute.

He Googled it and made an impressed face as it came up first in the search results. He clicked the link and found himself looking at an attractive, professional-looking blog. Definitely feminine. She had not been wrong when she said this probably wasn’t his kind of thing. But still. Rotating images on the side advertised several different products.

He clicked through various pages. Yeah, he wasn’t into shoes or accessories or cupcakes, but he had to admit it all looked really good. He scrolled through comments on some blog posts…tons of comments. Holy shit.

He wanted to know more about her social media company. But she hadn’t told him the name of it. He frowned. If he Googled her name, would he get something? Couldn’t hurt to try. He typed it in. First up was the blog, but the next hit was Big Cheese Media.

He lowered his chin. Seriously?

He clicked.

He had to poke around the site a bit, but yep, that was her. A grin spread across his face. Big Cheese Media. Jesus, she was funny. And it worked. It totally worked. Again, a professional-looking site that included her clients so far.

She could probably teach him a thing or two about social media. The team gave them some training, which was mostly “Be fucking careful what you post on the Internet.” He got that. He erred on the side of caution, posting infrequently, but it might be fun, especially some of the banter that could go back and forth between players. And not just on his team, but friends he had who played for other teams. When he’d joined Twitter he’d instantly had ten thousand followers or something like that. That was cool but also scary. He didn’t want to screw up and say the wrong thing.