Page 32 of Home for the Hockey-Days

Lachlan picks up his burger and stares at it. “You know how hockey fans get.” He quirks a brow. “They might think we’re in cahoots.” He takes a way-too-big bite, demolishing about a quarter of the burger.

“If they think anything, it’ll be that we’re setting up for a fight after the holidays.” I pick up a few fries and drag them through the pot of ketchup before cramming them in my mouth.

“I’m game if you are.” Lachlan mumbles around the food in his mouth before grabbing a napkin on the table and dabbing it against his mouth. “In fact, why wait? We don’t even have gloves to drop. Get up, we can give everyone here a good Christmas show.” He grins.

I shake my head. “I’d rather not.”

He’s got at least two inches on me, and the only time I’ve ever fought him, I ended up on my ass with a busted nose. We eat in silence for a few moments, and a kid comes up to the table to get Lachlan’s autograph.

“I’m so sorry.” The child’s mom practically groans at me. “We did our best to make sure he was a Raccoon’s fan, but hereallyloves wolves...” She waves her hand like that’s all it took to convert the little boy who can’t be older than six or seven.

He looks up at Lachlan with Stanley Cups dancing in his eyes, and gushes at him about how he’s the best player in the whole wide world. It’s adorable. Lachlan asks the boy’s mom if she’d like tickets to the first game back after the holidays, and she says they’re already going.

Lachlan nods. “I could get my teammates to sign a notebook for you, and give it back to you after the game.”

The kid’s smile widens even further, like all his Christmases have come at once. “Is that okay Mom?” He looks at her with such hope in her eyes there’s no way this woman’s saying no.

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

While Lachlan chats with the mom about logistics, I pick at my fries. A flash of red hair captures my attention, and the person it’s attached to is a similar build and height to Rowan. After staring at her for way too long, when she finally turns around, my heart sinks because it’s not her. It’s Christmas time, time for people to be with their family, but I’m sorely tempted to message her to schedule an emergency Christmas Eve tutoring session just so I can be near her for a while.

As I gulp down my root beer float, I feel eyes on my skin. “What?”

“Who is that?” Lachlan doesn’t bother to gesture at who he’s talking about. I hadn’t seen the woman and her son leave,but he’s obviously spied my gaze lingering on the redhead across the restaurant.

I shrug, taking another drink. “Don’t know her.”

He takes another bite of his burger, swallowing it in record time. “Okay, who did you think she was?”

I shake my head. “No.” I cram some food in my mouth, hoping it’ll be enough to put him off pressing the topic, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kicks my ankle.

“Oh, you’re absolutely going to talk.” Another quarter of his burger disappears down the hatch and he washes it down with a glug of his milkshake. “Who is she, my ‘I’m staying single forever, soon-to-be a preacher friend?”

With a snort, I kick him back. “It hasn’t been that long.” It hasn’t, but only because I fucked Rowan senseless at the Christmas party a couple days ago. And again after I ate out her delectable pussy in the library yesterday instead of learning math.

“Spill,” he presses.

I sigh. “Her name is Rowan Armistead. She’s my math tutor.”

His brows twitch. “White’s ex?”

Sometimes the hockey world is exceptionally small. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How do you know her?”

“One of the guys on my team wanted to ask her out on a date without knowing she was in a relationship already. Johnny knocked one of his teeth out.” He grins. “My teammate broke his nose in response.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t a bad fight actually.”

“Well, she’s single, or I think we’re dating? I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Lachlan drags some fries through mayo and crams them into his mouth. “How did you meet? Through tutoring?”

I shake my head. “She crashed into my car.”

He gasps before clutching his chest. “Not Rusty. How the hell are you getting around?”

With a nod, I turn somber. “Rusty is no more. Ubers, bumming rides from teammates, the twins keep offering me a loaner.”

“And you keep saying no.” He shakes his head. “Take the fucking help, Gus. She wrecked Rusty, and you still want to see this woman? She must be special.”

“She is, and I can’t get her out of my mind.” The urge to drop my head onto the table with a thunk is powerful, but I’m not normally dramatic.

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