Rinkmates: A steamy Hockey Romance (The Mates series Book 1)

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s matchup between your hometown heroes, the Boston Bears, and the visiting team, the New York Falcons!” The announcer’s voice booms over the loudspeakers as the Bears burst out of the tunnel, one by one, each greeted with thunderous applause.

My heart goes cannonballing as I watch the Falcons rush to the ice next. They are met with a mix of polite applause and boos from the home crowd, and I want to strangle each one of these idiots who booed at them. We stand up and howl like the wolves to support them.C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

When the lights dim once again, a spotlight shines on a lone singer on skates standing at center ice.

The crowd falls silent, a collective breath held in anticipation as she performs the national anthem. On the ice, the players from both teams line up along their respective blue lines, standing shoulder to shoulder. Helmets off, they hold them under their left arms, their heads bowed slightly.

The Falcons wear their dark blue and white jerseys and stand on the left side of the ice. Riley’s stance is so solid and confident. His eyes search mine. I smile at him and he smiles back. Next to him, his teammates stand tall, their eyes fixed on the flag hanging above the scoreboard.

As the final notes of the anthem ring out, the arena erupts in applause and cheers, and all the players replace their helmets and skate to their positions, ready for the face-off that will signal the start of the game.

The puck drops, and the game is on.

I lean forward in my seat, eyes glued to the ice as the Falcons and Bears swarm like bees around a hive. But where is he?

My gaze darts from jersey to jersey until finally I spot eighty-seven. He’s on the bench, his leg bouncing with pent-up energy as he watches his teammates battle for control.

Come on, Coach, put him in, I mentally will, my fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against my thigh.

The first period is a flurry, with both teams testing each other’s defenses. The home team strikes first, a wrist shot from the blue line finding the back of the net. Derek looks furious. The crowd erupts and the goal horn blares as fans leap to their feet. Priya and I make a face.

After what feels like an eternity, the line changes and Riley hops over the boards. He charges into the fray, his powerful strides practically eating up the ice. And you can say what you want, but the minute he touched down on the ice, the crowd turned electric.

Everyone knows it’s a whole different game when Riley’s out there.

Within seconds, Riley and Houston clash like gladiators. My stomach drops. Don’t blow it, Riley. Don’t blow it. They smash into the boards, jockeying for the puck in the corner. Houston leans in, his mouth moving rapidly as he no doubt tries to get a rise out of Riley.

Don’t take the bait, Ri. Don’t.

I chew my lip, knowing how important it is for him to keep his cool.

The camera pans to me and I school my concerned expression into one of composed support, even as my heart pangs against my rib cage. This game means everything. I need Riley to stay focused.

Houston cross-checks him and Riley stumbles. I let out a shriek and feel Priya’s hand on mine.

“He’s fine,” she says, and at first I don’t know why she would say that, but then I see the picture of me displayed on the TV above. I’m shocked and then I’m shocked at how shocked I am, but I have no time to reflect because there’s this cold anger flashing in Riley’s whiskey eyes, and for a moment I fear he’ll retaliate and cost us a penalty.

He starts skating hard for the tunnel and I spring to my feet.

No, no, no! Slamming my palms against the glass, I catch his gaze, silently begging him to walk away.

And thank the heavens he retaliates with a quick counterattack. I let out a sigh and watch Riley weaving through the defense and beat the goalie with a perfectly placed shot. Before I can even process what just happened, Riley turns to me and mouths what looks a lot like That was for you.

I sit down again. I don’t know if my heart will survive another live game.

When intermission arrives, I get a text from Riley.

Puckster: How are you up there?

Liora: Dying. This tension kills me.

Puckster: Sweet. You’re worrying about me.

Liora: I am not, just waiting for another goal for me.

I’m totally worrying about him.

Puckster: Coming right up, baby.

The second period sees the physicality ramp up, with big hits and aggressive forechecking. A fight breaks out, but not between Riley and Houston. It’s Colton and Houston. The crowd roars as gloves are dropped and punches are thrown. The referees break it up, sending both to the penalty box.

The Bears break away with a smooth tic-tac-toe play, the puck effortlessly passing between their sticks before landing in front of the net for a tap-in goal and I’m screaming my lungs out.

And in the last seconds of the game, I watch Jayce nodding to Riley just before swiftly dodging an opposing player’s flying elbow and passing the puck off to him. Riley takes off down the ice and scores his third goal.

Yes! I pump my fist, pride surging through me. “That’s my man!”

“I manifested it,” I hear Priya say to Nina, but I’m glued to Riley. I don’t hear anything. “They even are star aligned. Their signs match perfectly.”

The ref’s whistle pierces the air.

Riley throws his head back in relief.

The red goal light flashes.

The buzzer sounds.

We won.

Leaping up, I hug Priya as we jump up and down. We fucking won!