Rush the Edge: A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Blue Devils Hockey Book 3)

This itchy costume is not only smothering but it smells godawful too. Like feet and mildewy snow suits from little kids playing out in the snow for hours upon hours. The combo is exactly what one would assume—vomit inducing.

I hold my breath as I spin around to face the mirror. Cindy scored me my own little dressing room, which doubles as storage for extra equipment. It shares a very thin wall with the officials’ locker room, and after having a listen, I’ve learned that they gossip more than a bunch of college girls at a frat party.

“This stupid freaking thing!” I reach for the zipper and give it another tug.

It’s stuck. Great.

Not only am I covered in sticky sweat, smelling like a musty gym bag, but now I’m trapped in this thing for the rest of my life.

Okay, fine.

That’s dramatic.

But I’m most definitely not walking through the arena, wearing the bottom half of my devil’s costume for people to learn who’s underneath the giant head.

My fingers pull on the zipper again, but it refuses to budge. I sigh angrily as another droplet of sweat rolls down my cheek, falling to the floor beneath me. It’s fine. I’ll just die of a heat stroke in this room and go out a winner.noveldrama

I laugh to myself so I don’t cry.

With half the costume on, I call Natalia on FaceTime.

When in doubt, call your bestie.

“What are you⁠—”

“I need you to come to Chicago,” I interrupt her and pan the phone down to my body. “I’m fucking stuck in this thing!”

Natalia stares at me through the screen for a few seconds before her laughter echoes around me.

“Oh my god,” she says through a laugh. “It isn’t funny…”

I try to hide my own smile.

“But it is…” She laughs again.

“Natalia,” I whine, “what do I do?”

She finally controls her laughter and acts serious. “Get a new job.”

I can’t do that. Kane will call me a quitter.

“Natalia!” I shout. “I’m serious. I’m dying of a heat stroke in this thing!”

With the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat off my hairline.

“Okay, okay.” I watch as she moves through her apartment with her thinking face on. “Is there anyone else around? Anyone that you can ask for help?”

I bite my lip. “Only the refs.”

She lifts her arched brow. “Are any of them cute?”

“Really?” I huff.

Her laugh cuts through my frustration, and I finally start to laugh too. “This is so ridiculous,” I say.

“Comical, you mean? I agree.”

I scrunch my nose. “Bye.”

She laughs harder, and I hang up the phone.

My hands fall to my hips, and I stare at the wall that separates me from the officials’ locker room. Eventually, I trudge over to the door and open it, allowing the bright lights of the hallway into my dim dressing room. The light covers my shiny, sweaty skin, making me look even worse.

It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone—the less people who see me the better—but I know exactly who’s in the vicinity.

It’s quiet besides the referees in the next room, who I’m assuming are about to leave for the evening, so with one hand holding up the top of my costume, I take my fist and gently rap my knuckles on their door.

It takes a couple seconds for it to open, and when it does, the referee’s eyebrows crowd together at the sight of me.

“Uh, hi.” I send him, and the rest of the men behind him a tight-lipped smile.

This isn’t awkward at all.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but…”—a breathy laugh leaves me—“my zipper is stuck, and I really don’t want to die in this thing.”

Plus, there is no way I’m calling Kane to help me.

The man blinks several times before finally speaking. “You’re the mascot?”

I shift awkwardly on my feet. “Unfortunately.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Wow…”

I hear the faint mumbling of a younger referee standing behind him. “I’m requesting as many Blue Devils games as possible.”

Leaning to my left, I get an eyeful of him. He smirks at me, and my face warms.

I quickly spin around and move my hair out of the way. “Can you please hurry. I’d rather no one see me in this.”

“Move over,” the younger one urges. “I’ll help her.”

“No,” the other, much older referee says.

“What? Why?”

“Because you sound too excited. Go stand in the corner or something.”

I smash my lips together to suppress my laugh. “Thanks,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he says, fiddling with the zipper. “Next game, do you think you could take a few photos with my girls? They love getting photos with the mascots.”

“Absolutely.” I smile over my shoulder at him as he continues to focus on the zipper.

After a few seconds, he grumbles, “This is really stuck.”

“We can always cut it off,” my admirer suggests.

He clearly didn’t go stand in the corner like my hero demanded.

I’m starting to sweat again.

I turn slightly in an attempt to hide myself from anyone who happens to walk down the hall.

“Here, let me help.” A hand lands on my hip to keep me still, and I know for a fact that it’s the other referee.

“No funny business,” I chide, giving him a look.

“I’m on my best behavior, devil girl.” He winks, and although he’s cute, this is notan ideal meet-cute.

“What the hell is going on here?”

My heart stalls, and suddenly, I’m chilled to the bone.

Both sets of hands on me freeze. I turn and lock onto a pair of dark-blue eyes that would stop anyone in their tracks.

“What does it look like, Barlow?”

It’s determined: the younger referee has a death wish.

The older one mumbles a warning under his breath. “Wes…”

“Well…it looks like you no longer have jurisdiction over me.” Kane is as cool and collected as ever. “There’s no penalty box to protect you, Ref, so how about you take a step away before I start to think about the way you talked to me on the ice after your bogus roughing call and get angry all over again.”

“Wes,” the older referee says his name with more authority than before, and thankfully, it works.

The heavy hand around my waist disappears, and I let out a held breath.

“Calm down, Barlow,” the rational referee says. “Her zipper is stuck.”

Kane’s jaw wiggles back and forth, but he must have much more respect for this referee, because he doesn’t seem as lethal as before.

Not that he has any right to act all protective over me.

“I can take it from here, Jeff.”

My mouth starts moving before my brain can catch up. “I think Jeff’s got it.”

Honestly, out of the three men in my vicinity, I think I trust Jeff the most.

Kane’s hand slips around my waist, and I’m being dragged toward my dressing room. He shoves us both through the door and slams it shut.

As soon as he lets go of me, I glare at him. “What the hell is wrong with you, Kane?”

Only, he doesn’t answer, because with the work that Jeff did on my zipper, my costume now falls to my hips, revealing much more of my body to Kane than I anticipated.