As he did just now. We file off the ice, a few hanging back to get some extra practice in or just goof off with some extra drills.
I’m gassed, however, as I got in a workout before practice, and I want to get home to relax a bit before my “date” tonight with Emory.
In the locker room, I shower and change into fresh clothes at my cubby, while intermittently chatting with various teammates. The locker room is a place where many of us take the time to get caught up on the day-to-day lives of our teammates, and it’s been affectionately dubbed The Euchre Club by our captain, Bishop Scott. He told us his parents belonged to a neighborhood social club where their purpose was to play the card game of euchre, but really it was a way to get together with friends to have some drinks, chat, and sometimes even gossip.
Outside of the drinks, our locker room often resembles just such a social event.
“Mollie is being such a hippie,” Kane says as he stretches out on one of the benches, hands clasped behind his head, eyes on the ceiling.
I cut a glance to Bain, who smirks back at me. We both recognize Kane’s tone. He’s getting ready to wax poetic about his fiancée and wedding planning.
While deep down, I’d never begrudge my friend if planning a wedding was bringing him joy, as a man, I simply can’t do so without giving him a little bit of shit in return.
Kane’s eyes move from the ceiling to me. “Do you know what she wants now?”
I withhold a laugh, because although Kane’s words alone sound as if he might be complaining, his tone says that he finds whatever Mollie is doing utterly fucking adorable.
I take the bait. “What’s that?”
Kane curls up from his supine position, planting his feet on either side of the bench, and crosses his arms. He shakes his head, all bemused like. “Here I am… incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford anything she wants as she marries the love of her life—that being me, of course—and she wants roadside wildflowers.”
I glance at Bain, who shrugs, and then back to Kane. “What does that even mean… roadside wildflowers?”
Kane gives an airy wave of his hand. “You know… like daisies and shit.”
“She wants to cut wildflowers,” Bain drawls slowly for affirmation. “Like daisies and shit… for the wedding?”
“For her bouquet,” he clarifies. “I mean… I thought roses or something more expensive—not that I know what that would be, as I don’t know flowers—but I sure as hell know I can afford more than wildflowers off the side of the road.”
Once again, Bain and I exchange bewildered looks.
“Or,” a deep voice drawls from behind us and we turn to see Aaron standing there. Our first-line defenseman only just recently found himself falling hard for a woman, so maybe he’s got a more qualified opinion. “I expect daisies and other such wildflowers are hard to come by in the desert of Arizona. Flowers such as that might have to be imported, which means, they’ll probably cost you an arm and a leg. I’m expecting Mollie’s not quite the free-spirited hippie you think she is, and merely a woman of particular taste who will end up spending a pretty penny on your wedding.”
Everyone can see this reasoning makes sense and moreover, that Kane really likes the thought of importing expensive roadside wildflowers for his bride-to-be.
But before he can prattle on about it—because a man can only take so much wedding talk, especially when he’s firmly opposed to settling down—I bring The Euchre Club to the next level.
“I’ve got a date with Emory Holland tonight,” I say smugly.
“You’re full of shit” another voice pipes in and a head pops around the corner of the row of cubbies, followed by his body. It belongs to Dax Monahan, first-line left-winger, and he’s wearing nothing but a shower towel around his waist.
His eyes are wide with surprise and he is one of the handful of teammates who have been giving me hell for pursuing Emory. They all saw me crash and burn the day she was introduced to the team. They also know she rebuffed my attempts to wrangle a date during our social media meeting.
“I’m picking her up for dinner at seven tonight,” I reply casually.
The men are silent for a moment, exchanging glances.
Finally, Kane says, “That sounds like a date.”
“Admittedly, it does,” Dax grumbles.
“Sounds like dinner to me,” Bain points out. “There could be any number of reasons for having dinner. It could be business related.”
I try to wipe the smirk off my face as I work on stowing the sweaty workout clothes I’d worn to the arena this morning in my duffel.
“To be clear,” Dax says slowly, leaning against the end of the cubbies and crossing his arms over his chest. “You asked her out on an actual date, and she accepted.”
“Not quite,” I admit. “I got her to agree to dinner to discuss social media with the stipulation that if she agreed to just one dinner, I’d never bother her again.”
“That’s not a date,” Bain says confidently.
“It is to me.” I turn and face him. “Besides… she’s attracted to me.”
Kane snorts. “What does that have to do with anything?”
My head twists his way. “It means that she’s not completely immune to my charms. It means I have something going for me.”
“Physical attraction means nothing in the grand scheme of things,” Tacker says as he comes up behind Kane. He’s already showered and dressed. Lifting an arm up and resting his wrist on top of a cubby, he crosses one leg over the other. “Not saying attraction isn’t important, but the physical part isn’t going to get her past her reservations of going out with you in the first place.”
I’m dubious. I’m pretty sure attraction is the key ingredient in two people hitting it off, and it’s certainly the main reason she caught my attention. Admittedly, her continued refusal to give me the time of day outside of business has me doubly intrigued.
“It’s true,” Bain says with a solemn nod of his head. “How many of us have gone out with someone that was super-hot in all the right ways, and they ended up being annoying, clingy, bitchy, or just plain nasty to be around?”
“Truth,” Kane replies as he and Bain fist bump in solidarity.
I’ll agree with that. I’ve had my share of sneaking out of a girl’s bed to avoid engaging with an awful personality. Bain is right… you can want to fuck someone but not really want to talk to them.
That’s not the case with Emory. I’m totally attracted to her and I can tell she’s attracted to me in return, but I don’t want a one-night stand. I mean… if that’s all she’ll give, I’ll take it, but there’s something about her that goes past the physical.
I need to find out what it is.
Nabbing my duffle, I hitch it over my shoulder. “My brothers,” I say sticking out my fist and moving it left to right for each guy to bump. “Your advice is ever appreciated.”
“Glad we can help,” Dax says.
Tacker nods and adds on. “We’re also going to take bets on whether or not you strike out once you leave.”
I snort, knowing he’s not joking. I’m sure the odds are against me too.