His eyes flare. “Wait… you were trying to hook up with—”
“No,” I growl even louder. “But I was trying to work up to asking her out. Instead, you had her pushing me to go on a date with another woman.”
“I’m sorry, man,” he says.
“Asshole,” I mutter, grabbing my beer.
“Will you still go on the double date with me?” he asks.
“Yeah. But I’m sure as shit not going to hang out with you now. Just let me know the details of when and where to be.”
“You’re the best—”
I leave Nolan behind and head to the bar. I need another beer.
CHAPTER 7
Gage
It’s loud as I enter Mario’s, the bar/restaurant that’s become sort of our go-to-place after home games. I don’t often go out after games, but tonight, I deserve a beer.
Everyone deserves a beer, and I might buy the entire establishment a round.
We fucking pulled off one of the best comebacks in franchise history by defeating the Quebec Royals 4–2. This was after going into the third period down 0–2. Jesper essentially shut out the Royals that final period, and we scored four goals to not only win the game, but win it decisively.
Stone was the man of the evening with two goals and two assists. One of those assists was a puck straight to me for a blistering slap shot that ripped past the Royals’ goalie so fast, he barely moved in recognition of it. And then young Liam Nicholson, one of the team babies who shores up the left wing on the second line, had a sweet breakaway where he juked the goalie so bad, he was traveling to a different hemisphere while Liam scored.
It was a much-needed victory which helped us in the points standings and reminded everyone on this team that we have the ability to compete at a high level. Quebec is ranked fourth in their division, so it’s a big deal we took them down.
Granted, we still need every fucking point we can get moving forward, but hopefully, this will spark even more from these guys who are already giving a hundred and ten percent.
Well, all except Coen. He’s still going through the motions and was essentially ineffective tonight. It could be that the coaching staff are well on their way to moving him out of the first line and letting Boone come back on as his play has been consistent across the board, and he’s proven he can rise to the challenge.
I spot Stone at a table with Harlow. He puts a hand to the back of her neck and pulls her in for a kiss. Looks like the nature of their relationship has changed, and it makes me happy for the guy.
More than anyone on this team, he needs some happy.
When they pull apart, the dreamy look on Harlow’s face brings Jenna to mind. I think she’s a romantic… the type who would sigh at the tail end of a kiss.
Thinking of the woman causes me to grit my teeth, especially thinking of her as a romantic. So far, she’s given me no indication that she would ever be the type who would let me kiss her.
It’s been three days since the party, and I’ve not talked to her. I had every intention of reaching out, but she inadvertently shut me down by sending a very cordial and businesslike email the day after. It was to inquire about my availability to meet with the documentary director, Teli Gibson—formal, without any hint that we had a friendship beyond our professional connection.
She even ended it with Thank you for your cooperation and signed it Sincerely yours, Jenna M. Holland, Media Liaison.
I read it and was all, what the fuck?
But then I thought, maybe she’s trying to keep distinct lines between personal and professional. It was a work email, after all. Not a flirty text, more’s the pity. I’d intended to tease her about the email when I agreed to meet with Teli the next day, but Jenna wasn’t present for the meeting.
I was more than disappointed, and yet, I didn’t reach out to her. Didn’t call or text, despite the fact I asked her if I could, and she gave me the green light.
It’s been an internal fight whether to pursue her. I can’t decide if she really would want that. Jenna has her own insecurities, but her withdrawal is fucking with my confidence. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.
I thought we clicked as we enjoyed our drinks and talked family. I could’ve sat and talked to her all night.
Could do more, too, if things were to progress. As much as I like her personality and she fascinates me, she’s sexy as fuck and pushes all my buttons.
I head toward Stone and Harlow, planning to just say hello as it looks like they’re on a date.
Grimacing, I try not to think about that stupid blind date I agreed to go on tomorrow. Had Jenna not stood up from the table and called our evening done, had she not encouraged me to go with Nolan to help him out, I would’ve told my teammate to go screw himself.
But as it stands, Jenna confuses me, and I’m stuck doing a solid for my friend.
Stone and Harlow are still staring moon-eyed at each other when I reach them.
“That’s new,” I say cheerily to announce my presence. They pull apart, and Stone glares at me. I grin and look over at Harlow. “I was going to join you, but it looks like I might be a third wheel.”
“Of course you’re not a third wheel,” she says and nods toward an empty stool.
“You’re totally a third wheel,” Stone grouses, but it’s without any real heat, so I take it the invitation is legit. I plop down on the stool, leaning my forearms on the tabletop to give Stone a pointed look. “I don’t know what brand of Wheaties you fucking ate this morning, but that was some of the best hockey I’ve seen in my career.”
“I got a really good night’s sleep, I guess.”
Harlow chokes on her drink and her face flushes. I’m guessing “really good night’s sleep” is code for really great sex.
Which makes me think of Jenna again.
Damn it.
Harlow sets her drink down. “Is Baden coming?”
I shake my head and grin. “He wanted to hang at home with Sophie. He’s officially whipped.”
Again… Jenna. She’d be the type of woman you just wanted to hang out with at home, maybe watch a movie or binge a new series. I could spend a lazy evening working a puzzle with her or learning to cook a new dish.
Christ… am I getting old? How is that appealing now rather than going clubbing?
In fairness, I’ve never been much for clubs. Or bar hopping. I’ve always been an old soul, I guess.
I suppose that could translate into utterly boring. Maybe that’s why Jenna blew me off the other night.
Stop. Thinking. About. Her.
“Excuse me,” a man says, and I turn to see a family standing there. Mom, dad, and two little girls, and fuck me… they’re wearing my jersey. “Would you mind taking a picture with our daughters?”
I never mind when fans ask for photos. Not when they come this pint-sized and adorable. “I’d be glad to.” I slide off my stool and squat before the girls. “And what are your names?”
They smile shyly, but the taller one answers, “I’m Emma, and that’s my sister, Eva.”
“You’re wearing my jersey,” I note as I stand up.
“Daddy says you’re the best,” Emma says. “I wanted a Highsmith jersey, though.”