The Art of Running in Heels by Rachel Gibson

Author:Rachel Gibson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-12-26T05:00:00+00:00

Lexie took an aisle seat next to her mother and little brother, Jon Jon, in the lower bowl. Her brother took after their dad in looks and temperament. He was protective and ready to do battle for his big sister, which added to Lexie’s guilt. It was supposed to be the other way around. She should be looking out for him, but she felt like a coward and had to fight a strong urge to sink down in her seat and shield the side of her face with her hand. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to keep from hyperventilating, but there was nothing she could do about the sick knot in her stomach.

As a kid, Lexie had loved sitting in the front row just behind the glass. She’d loved the raw energy arcing through the crowd. She’d loved the grunts and thumps and the shhh-shhh of skates meshing with cheers and screaming fans. She forced herself to raise her chin and gaze out onto the ice.

“That’s the new guy Dad complains about,” Jon Jon told her as the puck passed from stick to stick. All she could see was the back of a jersey and short sweaty curls beneath his helmet. “I like him though.”

Lexie had more important things to worry about than the Chinooks’ newest superstar. Like appearing calm, cool, and collected when what she really wanted was to run away before someone in the control booth recognized her and flashed her face on the jumbotron.

With a hard thwack, the puck shot around the boards and was stopped in the corner seconds before players from both sides slammed into each other and shook the Plexiglas. Elbows flew, and thuds and grunts punctuated the air as they all dug for the puck.

A boom and vibration she could feel beneath her feet, and the number 36 flattened against the Plexiglas. “KNOX” was sewn across his shoulders, and his helmet fell off in the scrum.

“You wanna have a go?” one of them asked.

“On your mother, you tit baby.” Thirty-six threw a fist and his big blue glove connected, knocking the player off his skates.

Lexie drummed her fingers on the armrest. Mothers and sisters and tit babies were all fair insults with hockey players.

Whistles blew and two referees entered the fray. They pointed to the biggest offenders, and Lexie leaned forward to look down the boards to where her father stood with his arms folded across his blue blazer. She couldn’t see his face, but by his stance, he wasn’t happy.

From the other side of the glass she heard, “You’re a pussy, Kuch. Go back to the minors with the other girls.”

Her brows creased and she returned her attention to number 36. He shoved one glove beneath his arm, then bent forward and disappeared from her view. An odd jolt ran up her spine to the back of her neck. For a split second, she felt as if she’d stepped into an alternate universe where she recognized something that she couldn’t possibly know.

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