On theconcourse in Magness Arena, where they’d been jostled amid a sea of animatedpeople bundled in DU’s crimson and gold, Gwenn had plucked Paige’s sleeve andled her to their seats. Paige had swiveled her head like a child on her firstvisit to an arcade.
Afterthey settled in, Paige’s eyes fastened on the ice, where DU players skated inloops, under bright lights at the opposite end of the rink from their opponents,the Minnesota Duluth Bulldogs.
Asasquatch of a defenseman—Beckett, as she later learned—skated to a stop andbeckoned an opponent over. The Bulldog met him from his own side of the red lineand swung his stick low, whacking Beckett’s legs. Teammates from each sideswarmed and pulled the two back while Beckett laughed and taunted theBulldog—to the crowd’s enthusiastic cheers.
Gwenngrinned. “And this is just warm-ups!”
Thegame had started twenty minutes later, and it was all dizzying speed andaction. Paige was mesmerized by players flying up and down, passing the smallblack disk between themselves with impossible precision; by crushing hitsfollowed by players popping right back up again; by goalies’ contorted,sprawling saves that would have made a Cirque de Soleil acrobat applaud.
Shelocked on to Beckett Miller whenever he took the ice, marveling that such a bigbody could glide so effortlessly around and through opponents. Many a Bulldoglay spread-eagled in number twenty’s wake. The guy also displayed a knack forstealing the puck and putting it on a teammate’s stick or shooting it himself.But despite his stellar play, the game ended in a win for the Bulldogs.
It waslater that evening—at an after-game party she attended with Gwenn and Zack, aDU player and Gwenn’s then boyfriend—when she got a closer look at Beckett.Though it had been ten years ago, she could still recall every detail of thatnight. He’d been across the room, flashing a smile he used with practiced easeon each of five young women surrounding him like the petals of a stickygeranium. The guy had won the looks sweepstakes, and Paige worked at notgawking like every other female there—and a few of the males. Added to hisstriking appearance was his presence, which electrified the room just by beingin it. Despite the space between them, the voltage coming off him sizzled alongher spine.
As ifhe felt it too, he looked over and winked. In spite of herself, Paige’s pulseskyrocketed, and she tried to hide behind her hair—an anemic tactic that provedfruitless.
Readingher thoughts, Gwenn elbowed her. “It’s hard not to get all moony-eyed overBeckett Miller. He’s a god,” she said. “Adonis, specifically.”
Adonissauntered over, and Paige’s mouth went dry as Zack introduced them. How she’dmanaged to untangle her tongue and croak a “Hi” was still a mystery to thisday.
Talkabout the game followed, Zack musing over Beckett hitting everyone in sight andhow his mouth had never stopped running.
“Whatdid you say to get number eleven so pissed off?” Zack asked.
Beckettgrinned, showing off perfect white teeth. “Not a conversation for mixedcompany. Some things are better left on the ice.”
Laughing,Zack turned to Gwenn and Paige. “Trust me when I say you wouldn’t want himkissing you with that mouth if you knew half the shit he says out there.”
ButPaige wasn’t so sure she didn’t want Beckett Miller’s mouth on hers. Hewas gorgeous.
Laterthey’d stood alone, and he offered to get her a beer. She looked around, sureAdonis was speaking to someone else. But then he tapped her shoulder,surprising her. “I meant you, Red.”
Shemustered attitude. “It’s auburn, not red.” Grabbing her cup, she waved it infront of him. “This is red, and it’s full. I’m set, thanks.”
Hechuckled. “So are you a freshman?” Adonis paused for a sip. “Or still in highschool?”
Shebristled. “I’m a junior.”
“Really?Could’ve fooled me. You must go ninety, a hundred tops. How tall are youanyway? Are you even five feet?”
“Five-two.”She fumed. “And you must be, what, thirteen?”
“Funny.”He grinned, the cocky jerk. “Twenty-one. I’m a senior.” He looked around then,and a bevy of beauties waved at him and glared at her. “What’s your nameagain?”
“PaigeAnderson.”
“Paige?What kind of name is that?”
“Whatkind of name is Beckett?” she retorted.
He tooka long drink of his beer and casually said, “Old family name. My brother’s acar. Cooper.”
“Andpeople call you Beckett?”
“Unlessthey’re mad at me, and then it’s all kinds of other names.”
Heasked her if she wanted to leave with him, and she gave him a flat “no.” Hisfull mouth curved into a lethal smile, and his eyes glinted like moonlight on adark sea. “Why not?”
“Youappear to have a pretty big fan club already.”
Heshrugged. “Girls like me. I like girls. We’re charter members of a mutualadmiration society.”
“Wow.How do you fit your head through the door?”
“Bigdoors. So what do you say?”
She shookher head vigorously. “I’m guessing you need a lion tamer, not anotherconquest.”
Heraised an eyebrow and laughed. “You’re feisty. Maybe it’s the redhead thing.What the hell’s your name again?”
Sheblew out an exasperated breath. “Paige.”
“I’msorry. I’m fucking awful with names,” he said. “Anderson, right? I’ll call youAndie. I can remember that.”
Hourslater, she’d ended up among a group heading to breakfast, somehow seated besidehim. They talked the entire time. Or rather, she tried to keep up with hisdizzying thought pattern—if she could’ve called it that—as it bounced fromfloor to ceiling to wall like a rubber ball.
Fromthat night forward, he called her Andie, all while she puzzled over the enigmahe was. A total flirt and hard-core partier, he nonetheless made the dean’slist. How a playboy-hockey-player-party-animal maintained a grade average thatlanded him on the dean’s list was baffling, but she eventually—yetgrudgingly—admitted to herself he had a brain beneath those blue eyes and all thatmuscle.
In themonths after meeting him, she sometimes studied Beckett’s moves from afar whilehe was in action with the latest adoring fan. His sizeable personality wouldroar to life when an audience—especially female—gathered, and though Paige couldn’tsay why, she found it fascinating and repelling at the same time. Bothcompelling reasons to avoid him, which she’d executed well. For the most part.
Wineglassempty, Paige pulled herself from the couch and strolled into the kitchen,eyeballing the open cabernet bottle on the counter. “What the
