Page 104 of Slap Shot

I close my eyes, and I see him.

I take a shower, and I feel his hands on my body.

I’ve replayed every intimate moment of that night over and over again in my head, in excruciating detail—the glide of his tongue, his fingers wrapped in my hair, and how I wish he would’ve pulled on the strands.

Those few minutes with him were the most I’ve been turned on in years, and I hate that I had to be the one who stopped us from going any further.

I know what would’ve come next if I kept kissing him, and as much as my body wanted that—wantsthat—my brain is yelling at me to slow down. To consider the long-term impact of what could happen if we fell in bed together, and I can’t let it happen again.

It’s been weird in the few days that have passed. We’ve avoided each other, but it hasn’t been intentional.

Not totally.

He was out in Salt Lake City for a game the Stars ended up losing. I went to bed early last night, and something is off. There’s tension in the air. An awkwardness, almost, that didn’t exist before, and I need to get my head out of my ass. I can’t go the rest of my life without seeing him, and confronting him for the first time since he made me moan his name while we have the condo to ourselves seems like the best way to solve this odd dynamic between us.

He's been walking around the living room for the last thirty minutes, playing with the dogs. I hear his heavy footsteps, the murmur of his voice before he whistles for Gus and Millie to come over to him, and I take a deep breath. I open my door and march down the hall with my head held high like the badass woman I am.

“Hey,” I say when I get to the living room. He jerks his neck up and drops the squeaky ball he’s holding. When our eyes lock, I realize how much I’vemissedhim. How I’ve come to love the time we spend together, and I bite my lip to hold back a wide smile at the sight of him. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah.” He coughs. Clears his throat then clears it again. “Do you want some help?”

“Sure. You can be on tomato duty.”

He laughs at that, and so do I.

It’s silly to be making one kiss a big deal.

I know he doesn’t do one-night stands. He’s looking for is a relationship—which is something I’m not interested in—and there’s only one way this ends.

Us as friends, and I hope that’s good enough for him.

I lead the way to the kitchen and grab my apron off the back of the pantry door. Hudson sets up a cutting board and slides a knife my way.

“Haven’t seen you do your trick in a while,” he says.

“Say please, hockey guy.”

Hudson’s mouth curls into a wicked smirk. “Would you please show me your knife trick, Mads?” he asks, and it feels like he’s flirting with me. It feels like I like it.

“With pleasure.” I grab the base of the knife and spin it between my fingers. The movement is perfected after years of handling the equipment, and I smile when I stab the board with the tip of the blade. “How’d I do?”

“A goddamn ten out of ten. Nothing new there. What are we making today?”

“Sandwiches. Boring, I know, but I thought I could do fresh pasta and meatballs for dinner tonight before you head out on your two-game road trip tomorrow.”

“Feels like I’ve been away from home a hell of a lot lately, and it’s only going to ramp up as we get into the second half of the season. What are you and Lucy going to do while I’m gone?”

“We’ve done all the museums and landmarks. Given it’s January and freezing outside, curling up in front of the fireplace with the dogs sounds like a hell of a good time.”

“They love going to daycare, but I know they’re glad to have company around here.”

I unwrap the sourdough loaf I made the other day and cut off a few slices. “Hey, I was thinking… Can we talk about what happened on New Year’s?”

“What happened on New Year’s?”

“You already forgot?”

He blushes. “Like I could forget that. I just wanted you to speak it into existence. We kissed, then you ran away from me. Did I do something wrong? Was it not good for you?”

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