“Hello? Did you just orgasm watching the replay?”
She rolled her eyes at Stella’s comment. “Not funny. It was a good shot, though.”
“So how much are you seeing this Drew Hogan guy?”
“I’m not seeing him at all. We did spend Thanksgiving together, but only because I stayed here to work, and my mother and brother conned him into dragging me out of the house. So I worked the homeless shelter with him. Then he took me ice skating. And we went out to eat later that day.”
“So, you spent the entire day with him. Did you get him naked? Did he get you naked?”
“He most definitely did not get me naked that day.”
Stella laughed. “So he got you naked another day.”
“I had to get his measurements.”
“Ohhh, so you did get him naked.”
“Not naked. He had his boxer briefs on.”
Stella glanced at the television again, then pulled her attention back to Carolina. “I’ll bet he has a killer body.”
“He’s ripped, for sure. Even more so now than he was in college.”
“And you want to fuck him again?”
“Honestly, Stella. You’re so . . . blunt.”
“So? What’s wrong with women loving sex? When was the last time you got laid?”
She had a point. “Too long.”
“Okay, then. Go jump hot stuff’s bones, then dump him, hard. You’ll get a great release and it’ll be nice payback. But hey, first we should go to a game. I love hockey. Can you introduce me to some of the players?”
“Why? Do you want to ruin one or two of them, leaving them well satisfied but crying in your wake?”
Stella laughed. “Maybe.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. Since they’re in town, send hot stuff a text message. We can go party with them after the game.”
“Uh, it’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“It’s Friday night. What else are you going to do?”
“I was going to work tomorrow.”
“You can start a little later. Let’s have some fun tonight.”
She narrowed her gaze at Stella. “You’re a very bad influence.”
Stella laughed. “No, honey. I’m the best friend you’ve got. The one who’s going to prevent you from turning into a sweater-wearing cat lady who owns a rocking chair. Now send the text. They’re deep into the third period now and up by two goals, and I’d wager your guy is going to be ready to party after the game.”
Carolina could not believe she was doing this, but she grabbed her phone and sent the text.
“You’re going to make me regret this.”
“No regrets. Just fun.”
Carolina didn’t know about the fun part. But the message had been sent.
And she already regretted sending it.
TEN
AFTER A GRUELING GAME THAT ENDED WITH A three–to-one win, Drew was ready to let off some steam. So were some of the other guys.