Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) (19 page)

“I’m feeling it. Everyone’s been amazing, and I’ve had tons of support from the team. Thank you.” She didn’t really want to talk about her situation though, so she turned to Amia and gave the little cutie a kiss on the cheek. She had such soft, light brown curls, darker than they’d been only a few months back. “She’s starting to look more like Casey. They could almost be sisters.”

Becky nodded, laughing as Amia made a grab for the tiny unicorn pendant that Sahara wore on a delicate gold chain. “Yes, but she’s got a bit of all her parents. I swear, the looks she gives me!” Becky gently pulled Amia’s hand back and the baby proved her point by staring at her with annoyance. “Tell me that’s not Dean right there!”

It really was, which was interesting since he wasn’t her biological father. But he was her daddy in every way that counted and she mirrored him in many ways.

Another grab and this time, a pointed “No,” from Becky got Amia’s lip sticking out in a pout.

“And that’s so Silver.” Becky winked.

Coming closer, Akira giggled, offering the baby her thicker bracelet to play with. “I was going to say that looked just like Ford when he’s not happy. Maybe we should call it the Delgado pout!”

The women around who were pretending not to listen joined in on the laughter. Several came forward to introduce themselves. Not surprisingly, most seemed to have popped right out of the magazines strewn on the table near the kitchenette. At least one of them was on two of the covers.

Sahara braced herself when the woman, who was a few years younger than her, came over and thrust out her hand. “Jackie Littlefield. The guy who has a full beard all season, Peter Kral, is mine. I just recently put a ring on it.”

An inch taller than Sahara, with long, slick black hair and startling, pale gray eyes, Jackie exuded so much warmth and confidence all at once, Sahara wasn’t sure how to react. Or what to say. She didn’t want to make an ass of herself.

She glanced at the woman’s left hand, ready to gush over a huge diamond. But the ring wasn’t gaudy at all and very pretty. “Congratulations. Can I see?”

Jackie beamed and held up her hand. “It’s a Disney engagement ring. I fell in love with them and couldn’t choose. I’d considered the Mermaid one, but he got me Aurora and said it suited me better.” She bit her lip as she gazed down at the pink sapphire, which had small hearts formed with diamonds on either side. “His ring is bigger. I was afraid I’d embarrassed him, getting down on one knee in front of his whole team—”

Jeanette, the wife of Beau Mischlue, came up behind Jackie and gave her a hug from behind. “It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.” Her French accent made her voice soft, but she spoke English much better than her husband. “Beau teased me after, asking why I hadn’t thought of that when I bugged him for so long about getting married. The men were all jealous.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want him thinking the ring is to make a statement.”

“Why not? Besides, the bigger the ring, the more challenged the bunnies are.” Jeanette flicked her wavy brown ponytail over one shoulder. “You trust him?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t.”

“Good. Then no worries. The ring is perfect for his big hands.” Jeanette glanced over at Sahara, then at Jami and Akira. “Jami, have you set a date? We should have a big party to celebrate. If your father doesn’t like it, he won’t be invited.”

“Jeanette!” Cecilia Brends, the tiniest of the women, even though she was the mother of four kids, put her hand over her lips and shook her head. “You can’t say things like that! You’ll get your husband traded.”

“
Et
? We go to Montreal. I will miss you, but we can visit.” Jeanette winked at Jami to show she was joking. “You’re a big girl now. I remember you as a little bundle of trouble. Looking at you makes me feel old.”

“I don’t feel old. I would give up my Gucci purse to know what it’s like to be with
two
of our guys.” Cecilia let out a dramatic sigh. “Two like Mirek and I’d probably have eight kids. And I’d need to be committed.”

“Looking at Ramos and Carter, I think Jami might be able to give the team the whole next generation. Enjoy that tiny body now, honey.”

“Jeanette!”

Jami’s cheeks were red. Akira was doing a horrible job of not laughing at their dear friend. Someone needed to change the topic before Jami regretted coming in here.

Not that Sahara much wanted the attention on herself. Maybe they could talk about hockey?

She cleared her throat. “So…do you watch all the games here? You’ve got a nice view of the ice. And what do you think of our chances for the post-season?”

Beside her, Jami gave her a grateful look and squeezed her hand. Jeanette latched on to the subject, proving to be very knowledgeable about hockey. She threw out a few questions and comments that Sahara couldn’t help but respond to.

Tests. Not catty exactly, but close. Sahara braced for her to move in for the kill.

Jeanette cocked her head, studying Sahara with curiosity. “Most of the Ice Girls know about the game. A bit. But you grew up with it, didn’t you?”

Name-dropping would sound like bragging, so Sahara just nodded. “Yes. And I played until I was in my late teens. I wanted to be the next Manon Rhéaume, but I wasn’t good enough. And my grandfather always said he doubted a woman could play anything but goalie with the men.”

“He’s been right so far. But the women’s teams are amazing to watch. It would be good to see them draw more viewers.” Jeanette visibly relaxed, as though she’d decided she didn’t need to keep interrogating Sahara. That didn’t mean she accepted her, but she didn’t see her as a threat. “You’ve told us little about yourself. Are you dating one of the men? Or several? We’ve decided we really don’t care either way, but we don’t let just anyone in here. Akira gets a pass because Cort looks out for our men. And Ford is a darling.”

Ford?
Sahara blinked at Akira, who smirked, then shrugged.

“I’m…staying with Pischlar?” Sahara winced as the words came out of her mouth. Pischlar was pretty easygoing about life in general, and there wasn’t much she could do that would piss him off. Implying they were together might be an issue for him. “White’s there a lot too. I mean, it’s not anything. I’m not dating either of them, we just… I needed…”

Fuck, that was stupid.

Pischlar might laugh about her awkwardly blurting out private details, but White certainly wouldn’t find it funny.

And she now had the full attention of every woman in the room. Jami let out a soft groan behind her. Akira scowled and shook her head.

Jackie let out a piercing whistle that made everyone jump. “Just about warm-up time! Who’s going to the box with me? I’m not missing that look Peter gives me before the game starts while you bitches gossip.”

“We have to get ready for our routine, but as soon as we’re done, we’ll join you.” Akira grabbed Sahara’s arm and Jami’s hand. “Jami, you should check on Sam. Make sure she’s doing okay. She hardly looks like she’s pregnant, eh?”

They got out of the room just as conversation turned to who
did
look pregnant. And then half ran down the hall before stopping to stare at one another. And start laughing like crazy women.

“So much for trying to show you how great it is in there. They’re really nice though, Sahara. You’ll love them once you get to know them.” Jami tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, pressing her hand to one blazing red cheek. “Hanging out with guys so much makes me forget how much more…open women can be.”

“Oh, it was fine. I’ve dealt with a lot worse. The Ice Girls…” Sahara hesitated, not sure she wanted to say too much about them. Jami worked at the Forum, like Sam, but she’d been promoted to an usher. She was technically part of the Ice Girls, but only as a backup if one of the others got hurt. So she wouldn’t be performing tonight.

And hadn’t all season.

Jami rolled her eyes and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “You know I’m not as into performing as you two. Don’t hold back on my account.” She hooked her arm with Sahara. “Tell me Justine’s learned to stick up for herself?”

Sahara shook her head. Justine was one of the youngest of the Ice Girls. An amazing performer, but she was shy and insecure and had a weight issue
—
not a real one, she was as fit as any of the girls. But she was a medium to their extra small.

The Ice Girls’ old coach had made it more of an issue and gotten herself fired. After Silver ripped her a new one. The Ice Girls knew better than to openly bully Justine, but Sahara was sure the girl still overheard the odd nasty comment. She was always quiet in the locker room. Stuck close to Akira and Sahara.

“I think she’d quit if she didn’t love the team and being out there so much. We’re supposed to be doing a big photo shoot this summer. She’s already trying to get out of it. But she’s only talking to me and Sahara.” Akira frowned. “Silver might be able to help, but I hate bugging her. She’s so busy with work and the baby. And now with Oriana being hurt…?”

“We need to take Justine out and work on her confidence.” Jami tapped her bottom lip with her forefinger as they continued to the Ice Girls’ locker room. “Maybe bring her to the club?”

Sahara went still with her hand halfway to the door. “Are you serious? She might be submissive, but what goes on there would scare the hell out of her.”

“Not with us holding her hand.”

“BDSM isn’t the solution to everything, Jami.”

Jami rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware. But some of the players who go there are just a
little
kinky. And there’s always Pisch. He’d be great for her, and you’re not keeping him.”

True. But if Sahara was starting to feel uncomfortable with the lack of substance in the relationship, Justine would be a wreck after the first time she let Pischlar close. She doubted he’d go near Justine; she just wasn’t his kind of girl. She needed at least the hope of more from the start.

What does that say about you?

Nothing. Sahara wouldn’t start tearing herself down about what she should have done. She didn’t judge Pischlar for his carefree attitude. She wouldn’t start doing it to herself. This wasn’t the fucking 1800s. So long as she was a single woman, she could do whatever she wanted.

But that lifestyle didn’t appeal to her anymore. Which was also fine.

Except, they weren’t talking about her. So she focused on the reasons why Jami shouldn’t be giving Justine a nudge in Pischlar’s direction. “The girl hasn’t dated anyone since I’ve known her. Pischlar would show her a good time. Then he’d break her heart. If he didn’t crush her in the first five minutes with his “You can’t keep me speech.” I heard it and I was all right. She wouldn’t be.”

“It’s not really a speech, he…” Jami ducked her head when Akira gaped at her. “So not getting into details, Sebastian made it clear to Luke and me that if he wanted our sex life out in the open, he’d play at the club. He doesn’t bring us there very often anymore. He likes his privacy.”

Well, that was new. What had changed?

Not that she could ask, since Jami had brought up privacy, but would Sahara sharing her experiences be weird now?

Akira apparently didn’t share Sahara’s reservations. She turned away from the locker room and folded her arms over her chest. “Did something happen? Is you and Luke being engaged a problem?”

“No, of course not. Sebastian just…he’s not interested in sharing anymore. He did when he thought I needed it, but we’ve renegotiated. I think all the talk about Pisch playing with Tyler got to him.” She shrugged. “Luke’s uncomfortable with rumors, and Sebastian is trying to protect him. Not that I think you’d say anything, but when my Master gives me an order…” She smiled, her eyes dreamy. “Things are perfect. I don’t know how else to explain, but I hope you understand.”

“We do.” Sahara had no doubt Akira felt the same. “No more sex talk.”

Jami shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. Just…certain things I can’t tell you. I am more than willing to listen to any dirty details you want to give me!”

Sahara smirked. “Well then, there’s probably a few interesting things about White you’d want to know. The things that man can do with his tongue…”

She cut herself off and opened the door to the locker room.

“Hey!” Jami called as Sahara ducked inside. “You can’t stop now!”

“We’re gonna be late. Love you!” Sahara blew Jami a kiss and hurried to her locker, grinning as Jami stuck out her tongue before slipping out of sight.

Just a little bit of time with her friends had Sahara feeling a million times better. She laced up her skates, waited while Akira gave the group their routine pep talk, and then followed the group out to the ice. Above, on a platform, a few of their girls danced with pom-poms like regular cheerleaders. The routine on the ice would be quick—just enough to rev up the crowd and keep them entertained before the elaborate light and music show came on to introduce the players.

Almost half of the seats were still empty, but they had a nice-sized audience. Sahara glided out around one half of the rink, three girls a few paces behind her, while Akira circled the other side. The lights dimmed and the spotlights followed them. The song “Dangerous” by David Guetta came on.

Speeding up, Sahara pushed into a leap, spinning before landing across from Akira, who mirrored her as she began to dance. Gold and red lights flashed, pulsing in a way that distorted their movements. The cold didn’t touch her as she moved to the beat, every choreographed motion perfectly natural after weeks of practice, her muscles burning as she twisted and grinded down, fast, then slow and precise.