“I think I’m gonna need my groin massaged later,” I said in a low tone. “It’s gonna be really sore after this game.”
“Don’t make me blush,” she whispered, her face blazing.
“But I like it.” Damn, did I ever. I was thinking of all the dirty things I could say to make her cheeks pink. “You want me to score early in the game or draw out the suspense?”
“Just do it,” she said, smiling shyly.
The guys were heading for the ice, and I gave her a final glance before I fell into line. “You look really good tonight.”
“Thanks.”
I could tell she hadn’t been complimented enough. She looked self-conscious and unsure every time I said something about her appearance. When it came to hockey training, she was the picture of confidence. But the hint of a smile I’d seen told me she liked the compliment. I needed to do more of that. Nothing with a sexual meaning laced in; just straight-up compliments.
I could start over dinner tonight. Because even if I had to fight dirty to do it, I was scoring in this game.
***
Dell
I was used to the lightning fast pace a game launched into as soon as the puck dropped. But I was downright jittery as I watched this one. Up and down the ice the guys went, my heart hammering.
As our star player, Luke drew more attention from the crowd than anyone. Cheers rang out when his line took the ice. The game was still scoreless when another line took over and he climbed over the wall, sat down on the bench and squirted water from a bottle into his mouth.
I tried to look casual. It required me to force my foot to stop tapping nervously against the concrete floor. I focused on the game, groaning with the rest of the bench when the other team scored on a sluggish Scroggins.
When I chanced a glance at Luke, he gave me a quick wink and slid over the wall to go back out with his line.
Casual, casual, casual. But I was anything but.
“Tape my hand?” Brian McLaughlin asked, wincing as he pulled his glove off.
“Sure.” I wound the tape mechanically, wondering who had the puck. When I looked, I saw Niko passing it to Luke. He hooked it with his stick and headed toward the goal.
“Ow,” Brian whined, glaring at me. “Too tight, Dell.”
“What? Oh, sorry. Just a sec.”
With a long slap shot, Luke sent the puck into the net with such style fans were jumping up from their seats. I cheered with the rest of the team, but inside I was even more excited than I let on.
My social life was so nonexistent that this dinner would be the closest I’d been to a man in years. At least, a man I wasn’t training. But I never thought of touching the guys as anything more than my job.
I shook my head at my giddiness. We were going to eat before practice some evening – that was it. I needed to get a grip. But when Luke looked over at me from the circle of players celebrating with their sticks in the air and smiled, I lost hold of all rational thought.
***
Luke
I’d always been a closer. I wasn’t aggressive off the ice, but on it, I would kick however many asses I had to in order to score. My dad had drilled it into me: score at all costs. Any explanations about why I hadn’t scored growing up had been disregarded as lame excuses.
So I scored. It was second nature. But tonight had been my first goal in a long time. When I watched the puck slide home, only one thought was ringing in my head: Now I get to take Dell out to dinner. But then the guys had clustered around me, slapping my back and pumping their sticks in the air.
It surprised me how much I liked it. I hadn’t scored because I was supposed to, but because I wanted to. I knew as I looked at the faces of teammates circled around me that I was one of them now. And it felt fucking good. I wasn’t a multimillionaire trying to land an endorsement or a fatter contract – I was just playing hockey.
When the fanfare died down and I glanced over at the bench, Dell was smiling. It was the best moment I’d had in a long time.
I kept my head in the game, which required not looking at her again. When I saw her, my mind always started wandering. I’d think about her soft-looking pink lips or ways I could make her blush.
When we took the game 5-1, the guys were in the mood to celebrate. Tanner took it easy on the post-game analysis, letting us savor the win. Niko told me my attendance at the bar they liked to party at was mandatory, but I was planning to beg off. I wanted to take Dell out to dinner right now. I planned to shower, get my suit on, and make plans to meet up with her without anyone noticing.
I didn’t care where we went. We’d be alone and not working on my game. That was all that mattered.
Rifling through shit in my locker, I located my phone and pulled it out to search for a restaurant. A text from Ryke greeted me on my home screen: kickass, bro. I smiled to myself. He’d been following my games. Damned if that guy wasn’t my brother in every sense of the word.