Caged (Gold Hockey Book 11) by Elise Faber (romantic love story reading TXT) 📕

his new toy—and that toy was not Dani (she’d be fucking terrified if it was, though he couldn’t deny he hoped to at some point get her comfortable enough to be folded into the Korhonen crew). Instead, his excitement was because he was with a team who valued him, who gave him ice time and the opportunity to play, and his parents would see that. It didn’t matter how many games they’d already come to over the course of his career (and they made it to a half-dozen a year), Ethan still got a thrill from them watching him play in a Gold game.

They weren’t coming to watch him sit on the bench like teams past.

They’d see him living his dream, on the ice, hopefully making a positive difference for the team.

They’d see him doing something productive, something important. Though not as important as their jobs, their teaching and research, at least when he was on the ice and not warming the bench, he was actually doing something that came close to the value they brought.

Which was why as much as he wanted to get his degree, as much as he knew that he was smart and capable of getting that degree, he’d always had a hard time reconciling what he did with what his parents did. They loved him, he’d never doubted that. It was just . . . sometimes being the jock son of two renowned professors made him feel like he was a pair of sneakers amongst a whole row of expensive high heels.

Couldn’t measure up.

Didn’t measure up.

Wouldn’t ever measure up.

Smothering that feeling, shoving it deep down where it managed to live most of the time, he slammed his car door shut and started for the arena, but then his nape prickled, and he slowed, turning back toward a row of cars on the far end of the lot.

Because his inner Dani detector was ringing.

He walked over to her, watching for a moment as she wrestled with a series of bags in her trunk. Then he moved closer, some part of him pleased when she froze and rotated to face him. No surprise on her face, just expectation. “Ethan,” she murmured, her eyes meeting his and flitting away.

He’d had his mouth and hands on her, knew how silken her skin was, knew that she tasted of strawberries and cream. “Let me get those for you.”

“Oh, no—”

Ignoring her, he hefted the totes, surprised to find they were so heavy. “What’s in these?” he joked lamely. “Bricks?”

“Actually,” she said, trailing off, her lips quirking up.

“Wh—” He peeked inside one of the bags, knowing it was rude but doing it anyway, and saw that while there weren’t bricks within the sturdy canvas, there were rocks. Lots and lots of rocks.

She opened the one light bag he hadn’t managed to wrestle away from her, showing him that inside were a few bottles of paint, along with some brushes. “PR-Rebecca had a doctor’s appointment, so I offered to pick up the supplies for the newest Miner’s Club activity.

Miner’s Club was a group for any kid thirteen and under who was a Gold fan, and the PR and Community Outreach teams worked together to have fun crafts and activities in the concourse before puck drop for every home game. The kids loved it, and they especially loved that a lot of the projects they worked on ended up in the community.

Case in point, Dani saying, “They’re painting rocks that will line the walkway of the new senior center.”

“Make sure to slip in a few Gold logo rocks,” he said lightly.

“You have any doubt that PR-Rebecca doesn’t already have that planned out?”

He laughed, waited while she closed the trunk and locked her car. “Do I look like an idiot?” A grin. “I’d never doubt PR-Rebecca.”

Dani stopped, eyes locking onto his. “No,” she said. “You don’t look like an idiot, you look like—”

She pressed her lips together.

He was dying for her to finish that statement, but a muscle in her jaw was clenching, her gaze deliberately turned away.

“What are you going to paint on your rock?”

Her fingers played with the strap on the bag and as they approached the door to the arena, he thought she wouldn’t answer. But then she did, her voice quiet but steady. “What makes you think I haven’t already painted some?” She reached into one of the bags, pulled out a rock about the size of her palm. “Here,” she said, holding it up. “This one is my favorite.”

The pale gray stone had been painted a bright white, several turquoise and blue flowers covering its front and back.

It reminded him of her dress from the library, the gleaming umber skin, the bright pink of her toes, the way it had felt to touch her, even if it had just been on her ankle.

He wanted it.

Wanted to take it from her hand and shove it in his pocket and to never, ever give it back.

But . . . he wasn’t about to steal from senior citizens.

“There. You see?” she asked, her hand closing around the rock and tugging the door open. “I did a mediocre job throwing a few examples together so that Rebecca wouldn’t have to.” A smile as she waited for him to pass her. “I get my gold—no pun intended—star for the day.”

“I didn’t think techies liked arts and crafts time.”

“Are you kidding?” she exclaimed. “We love arts and crafts time, or at least this techie does.” A shrug. “Anyway, it was nice to do something that wasn’t screen-related, at least for a little bit.”

“It’s beautiful,” he told her truthfully.

Her stare came to his, held. “I don’t know about beautiful,” she said. “But I like drawing anyway.”

“You’re beautiful.” Despite the bags, he managed to brush her fingers with his.

“Eth—”

He stepped closer, ignoring the fact they were standing in the doorway, blocking the entrance that any number of people needed to use, a doorway in which any number of those people could stumble upon them, all of whom would