Page 29 of SlapShot Sweetheart

“They’re for you.”

“Seriously?” Becca preened happily. “Travis is the sweetest sometimes. Dustin is the one who insisted that there be something back here for us to munch on because his sisters come to the games occasionally. The couch used to be my old one, and we put it here when Travis and I moved in together. It’s a lot cozier than some plastic seats— that much is for sure.”

“So we just wait now?”

“Yup,” Becca agreed. “The coach is talking to them, then they’ll probably get showers or something. Sometimes, if Travis is hurting after a game, he’ll pop in and tell me if he’s going to soak or get someone to work on his knees. Does Theo have knee problems or anything? I know Dustin, the goalie, tore something a few years ago, which is why he stretches all the time. Coeur, well, is Coeur,” she muttered, shrugging her shoulders as if that explained everything.

Both women jumped as the door flew open, catching them off guard as Theo entered the room, looking directly at Aimee.

“I’ll just be back here, doing my own thing,” Becca whispered in a high-pitched voice as Aimee stared at Theo’s intense gaze.

“Hey…”

“Did you like the game?”

“Yes. So much better in person than on the television.”

“Oh?” he grinned, looking particularly pleased. “Will you stay and ‘ang around for a bit? I need to get a shower.”

“I should probably be getting home soon.”

“I could drive you.”

“But I have my car here, and you would need to take your car or…” her breath caught in her chest as she hesitated. Surely, he wasn’t implying what she thought he might be – that he could stay the night at her place.No way…

“I could follow you.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Est-ce que tu dois être aussi têtu parfois…”

“In English, buster,” she retorted in frustration because he would say stuff and she didn’t understand it – and it was annoying.

“I said ‘do you ‘ave to be so stubborn’ sometimes,” he replied openly, taking a step toward her. She could see his brow wascovered in sweat, making his hair spiky. His face was still flushed from the game, and there was something about seeing him like this that unexpectedly spoke to her.

“You’re going to have to speak English…”

“Or you could learn French…”

“I refuse.”

“Why?” he said in a clipped voice. “Because it’s me?”

“Because it’s the language of…” and her voice faded away as she saw the triumphant look in his eyes. “It’s… I, uh, um… I don’tloveyou, so don’t even think it.”

“You don’t love meyet,” he said softly, taking another step toward her as Aimee put her hand on his chest, feeling the protective gear beneath it. “Stay…please.”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen your place, and I’m learning about you – aren’t you curious about me?” he whispered gently, putting his gloved hand on hers, and she stared at the strange contact, seeing the massive protective mitt practically swallow her hand almost whole. “Let me take you ‘ome, and I’ll make you dinner.”

“Poutine?”

“Mais oui, mon âme sœur…”he breathed, and she was melting, not even balking at the foreign language as she stared into his eyes, feeling the pull between them. “If that is what you want, then yes. You’ll wait for me?”

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