His jaw nearly hit the ice. Then he grinned and shook his head. “I’m starting to understand why the guys like s******g you so much.” He positioned the blade of his stick near hers. “Come on; let’s see if you can get away from me.”
I don’t want to get away from you, she thought, but she tapped the puck, sidestepped, then rammed her shoulder into Tyler’s stomach when he lunged for her. He grunted and almost fell over. She took advantage of his fumbling and jetted across the ice, careful to keep the puck centered on the white tape wrapped around her stick blade. She couldn’t move as fast as before, but she didn’t lose the puck once as she circled the net.
“You go, girl!” Chicklet clanged her stick against the goalpost. “Damn, I’m glad you’re wearing red.”
Me too. Slowing at center ice, Ori
