3

DAHLIA My heart beats so hard, it nearly spills through my rib cage. Sweat is now covering my hands as I tighten my grip on the chair. No amount of icy air could extinguish the fire that erupts at the bottom of my belly. Kane’s words echo in my chest instead of my head, and I stop breathing altogether. Yes, I intended to ‘meet’ him officially. But not like this. I was working on multiple plans to make it natural and believable. Catching me in one of my snooping sessions is neither of the above. Maybe if I make a run for it, I’ll be able to get out of here⁠— “Am I that scary? I promise I don’t bite.” The note of amusement in his tone breaks the flow of my thoughts. God, why the hell does this man’s deep, gravelly voice sound like it’s out of my darkest, most delicious dreams? He sounds relaxed. Inviting, even. Maybe it’s because of that, or the fact that my legs are done carrying me, but I choose to seize the opportunity. The probability of having another one-on-one encounter with the Kane Davenport is slim to none. He’s always surrounded by people. All the time. Everywhere. Anywhere. He’s the magnetic field people find themselves pulled toward. I’m the people. People are me. With a sharp exhale, I slowly stand. My knees burn and my legs feel numb. In a swift movement, I remove my baseball cap and pat my hair into submission until the long, wavy brown strands smoothly settle beneath my breasts. My sister Violet told me first impressions matter the most, and I hate that I’m not dolled up for the meeting I’ve been planning for weeks. But I did put some makeup on earlier tonight and I’m wearing flattering jeans that mold to my curves and a beige top that contrasts nicely against my deep olive-toned skin. Sure, I could look better, but I can also work with this. This will either make or break my plan. After sucking in a deep breath, I look down, and I’d almost forgotten how effortlessly gorgeous Kane is. Almost. He leans against the boards, arms crossed, stick hanging from his hand, looking both unsettling and nonchalant. The opposing impressions he gives off are jarring and force goosebumps to surface on my skin. The dark-blue hockey gear adds a sense of foreboding to his already intimidating physique. Despite a few rows of seats separating us and my average height of 5’6”, he still looks intimidatingly tall. A slight smile touches his full lips. “There you are. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” “Hi.” Shit. I don’t sound weak. Ever. What on earth is wrong with me? Calm down, for God’s sake. “Hello.” His smile remains the same, exuding politeness. It’s even welcoming. “May I ask what you’re doing here at this hour?” “I stayed behind after the game.” “I could tell. Why?” “I…I’m a fan!” I blurt the first thing that jumps into my head. Why the hell didn’t I think of that before? Actually, I did. Fleetingly. But I figured the Vipers already had too many fans throwing themselves at the team members at every opportunity. So that wouldn’t have made me stand out from the crowd. But now that we’re alone, it might. “I see.” The two words are followed by intense eye contact that’s strangely devoid of warmth. I’m being scrutinized, but there’s no sense of connection. The glacial pale color of his eyes is similar to sinking into the Arctic Ocean as layers of ice form on the surface at an alarming speed. This must be what it feels like to be iced alive. I shake the image from my head. This is Kane, not Preston, or God forbid, the wild card Jude. He’s my best—and only—option. “Yeah,” I continue in a more confident tone. “I’m a new fan. I didn’t know much about hockey before, but I’m learning more because of the team. Go Vipers!” “I’m happy we could lure you into the game.” His words sound calm. Like an undisturbed ocean. Right. That’s the vibe Kane has always given. Deep, controlled, and reliable. An ocean in all its glory. “You did me the greatest favor.” I smile wide. I’ve always heard I have a beautiful smile and I don’t mind using it to my advantage. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m definitely a beggar in this situation. “Who’s your favorite player on the team?” “You,” I say with no hesitation. “Are you sure you’re not saying that just because I’m here? If Callahan shows up, you’ll switch, won’t you?” “Callahan is too aggressive and violent in his play. I don’t find that entertaining.” “Most hockey fans do.” “Not me. I prefer your tactical prowess and your seamless ability to lead both in offense and defense.” “I’m flattered. Thank you.” His voice remains the same. Unaffected, cool. He certainly doesn’t sound flattered, or maybe he’s been praised so many times before that his responses have become mechanical. “No, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. It’s hard to run into you on campus, so this means so much to me.” Gag. I’m not used to praising strangers this extensively. I’m starting to cringe. “Anything for a fan. If you want an autograph, all you have to do is come closer. I truly don’t bite.” That’s when I realize I’m still nestled behind the row of plastic seats, gripping one of them so tightly that my fingers hurt. I release it and slowly take the steps down. The entire way, Kane’s gaze is pinned on me. It’s not threatening per se, but it’s intense, like when he’s reading his opponents on the ice. That should feel like a compliment, but I’ve watched this man crush so many of his rivals, the attention shoots a wave of unease through me. I stop in front of him, and he stands to his full height. I’m not sure whether the gesture is meant to intimidate me, but I might have underestimated how tall he actually is. Add the skates and he’s downright towering over me. Up close, his jaw is sharper, his skin smooth except for some stubble. And his eyes are paler, much colder. Slightly disturbing, even. He carries himself effortlessly with complete and utter ease. I’m actually envious. How can someone be so…self-confident? So self-sufficient? “Can I take a rain check on the autograph?” I say to murder the invisible tension. “I don’t have a pen or paper.” “How about a picture, then?” “That would be amazing.” I fumble in my back pocket and retrieve my phone, then click on the camera. Due to the height difference, I can’t get a good angle. “May I?” he asks after watching me struggle for a few seconds. I hand him the phone with an apologetic smile and lean closer so he can take the picture. A whiff of woodsmoke and the faintest trace of musk flood my senses. The scent is so masculine, my head turns and heat creeps up my neck. I’ve always found men who smell nice attractive. I forget to smile a few times as he snaps some successive pictures. As he hands me the phone, I stare at his black ring for a beat too long and hope my inner disgust doesn’t make an appearance on my face. “Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here, Dahlia Thorne?” My fingers pause on the phone as he clutches the other end. He doesn’t release it when his eyes meet mine. His expression hasn’t changed, but a dark undercurrent has overshadowed his polite manners. “How do you know my name?” I whisper. “You applied for an intern position on the medical team, no? The résumé had your picture and name on it.” “And you go through every application?” “As the team captain, yes, I do. No one gets close to the Vipers without my knowledge.” He pauses and lets my phone go. “Or approval.” I knew that. I knew it, which is why getting close to the others would have been fruitless, not to mention dangerous. No matter who I targeted, I would’ve gotten Kane’s attention anyway, which is why I went for him from the beginning. “How do you know I want to get close?” I ask, not bothering to deny his words. Kane is smart and trying to deflect would only backfire. “Aside from applying to be part of the medical team, you’ve been asking around about administrative positions and trying to befriend those close to the team members.” He found out about all that? How?