Scoring with the Wrong Twin (Ice Chronicles Hockey #2)

8. Savannah

8

Savannah

It’s been three days. Three. Entire. Days.

Three days since the cowboy-who-may-actually-be-a-god swooped me up like I weighed nothing, kissed me senseless, and made me forget my own name. And what has he done since then? Oh, just perfected the art of pretending I don’t exist.

Absolutely nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

I glare out the window of the B I crash servers for fun.”

“You crash servers?”

“Only when they deserve it,” she deadpans, then adds with a wink, “but mostly I build things—apps, tools, fixes. The world’s basically just one big puzzle, and I like being the one to solve it.”

“Ever hacked into the Pentagon?” I ask, teasing.

“Please. That’s child’s play. I prefer challenges,” she says with a smirk. “What are you up to?”.

“Waiting for Aubrey,” I say, glancing around. “Got a couple of hours to kill, so I figured I’d see what all the ranch hype is about.”

“Fair enough,” she says, crossing her arms. “What do you think so far?”

“It’s... different,” I admit. “Not exactly my usual scene, but I can see why people fall in love with it.”

Emma smiles softly. "It grows on you. Speaking of which, how's the festival marketing coming along?"

"It’s going great. The concept is an easy sale, quite frankly," I say. "Blending an NHL charity exhibition game with a ranch festival? The social media engagement is insane. Hockey fans getting to meet their idols, betting on games, buying signed gear at the auction, and then hitting up the rodeo events after? What could be better than that?"

"Right?" Emma's eyes sparkle. "Though my favorite part is when my brothers bring their teammates for the street hockey tournament. The way they interact with the fans, teaching kids hockey moves between the ranch activities..." She trails off, her cheeks pink.

"Mhmm. And I'm sure it has nothing to do with all those sweaty NHL players walking around shirtless after their games?" I smirk, remembering how Blake looked when he took his shirt off—those low-slung jeans barely hanging on his hips. My core clenches at the memory of exactly what's under those jeans—thick, hard, and absolutely massive.

Focus, Savannah. Emma’s talking.

Emma groans. "Oh God, not you too. Their egos are already bigger than Texas."

Speaking of massive. Heat floods my cheeks as memories of Blake keep flashing through my mind—his cock stretching me open, his massive hands pinning my wrists above my head, his mouth hot on my neck. I shift, trying to ignore the sudden throb in my pussy.

"The festival's going to be huge this year," I say quickly, desperate to redirect my thoughts. "Between the NHL exhibition game, the midnight auction, and the ranch events, we're expecting record crowds."

We keep chatting about the festival for a bit—how her dad started it to keep the ranch afloat, how it’s become a major event for the Airbnb side of things.

"Your dad's vision is genius," I say.

Emma nods. “Dad’s always been ahead of the curve. Raising four hockey-obsessed boys and one nerdy girl alone couldn’t have been easy, but he made it work.”

My brows shoot up. “Wait, so while your brothers were scoring goals, you were solving equations? And now you pick a field full of tech bros? Are you a masochist?”

Emma laughs, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. “What can I say? Maybe it’s my way of proving I can stand out without a hockey stick in my hand? I mean, don't get me wrong, I've always loved math and technology."

I nod, impressed.

"It’s not always easy being the only girl in the family—or in a field like mine—but I’ve got thick skin.”

In the distance, I catch a glimpse of Blake walking toward the stables, his broad shoulders unmistakable. My mouth goes dry remembering how his body felt—solid, unrelenting, like he was made to ruin me in the best way possible.

“Savannah?” Emma’s voice breaks through my haze, and I blink at her.

“Sorry?” I say, too quickly.

She smirks, crossing her arms. “You were either zoning out or drooling. Wanna tell me which?”

“I was multitasking,” I shoot back, smirking. “Drooling while zoning out. Impressive, right?”

“Impressive? Sure. But if you’re drooling over my brothers, I might have to call for a psych eval.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Your brothers? Oh, no. I was admiring the... scenery. The barn, the horses, the rustic charm—it’s all very distracting.”

“Yeah, right,” she says, rolling her eyes but grinning.

“So, what’re you working on now?” I ask, steering the conversation away before my face can give me away.

She hesitates for a moment. “An app idea. It’s still early—mostly a website with fantasy games to test concepts. Someday, I want to turn it into a full-blown startup.”

I raise a brow. “Fantasy games, huh? Like dragons and dungeons?”

Emma’s laugh is nervous, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Something like that. It’s... niche. Let’s just say it’s about bringing people together creatively. For now, it’s more about experimenting and learning what works.”

“Smart,” I say, meaning it. “You’re covering a lot of ground.”

“Trying to.” She grins, nudging Pokey. “But this guy’s still my best project.”

The way she looks at him—like he’s the heart of her world—hits me unexpectedly. I find myself smiling as I say goodbye.

Blake was heading to the stables, so that’s exactly where I’m going.

I've waited long enough, like some lovesick fool, replaying every second of how he made me come begging for more. I'm done—no more guessing, no more wondering what's going on in that annoyingly perfect head of his.

If Blake Ice thinks he can ruin me for other men and then disappear, he's got another thing coming.