Page 16 of You Had Me at Hockey

“Yeah. Everyone here’s been great. But I don’t know the city, don’t really know anyone here except my teammates and even they’re mostly strangers to me. I know Brando—Brandon Smith—from playing together on the world junior team years ago, and…” I stop, then plow ahead. “I know Easton Millar from when we played major junior hockey, also a long time ago.”

She doesn’t react to that.

“I don’t know that many people here either.” One corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m so busy working all the time I haven’t really made many real-life friends here. Sometimes it gets lonely. But…” She shrugs and picks up her burger. “I stay busy.”

“If neither of us has many friends here…maybe we could hang out.” Wow, I didn’t even think about that. How unlike me. What is happening?

She gives me a level look.

“I know you’re busy,” I add. “I am too. When we have time.”

She smiles that slow, sexy smile again. “Yeah. I am busy. Again, guys usually cut and run when they discover that.”

Just then my phone rings. Jesus. Why didn’t I turn it off? I pull it out and glance at the screen. Cora. Holy shit.

I silence it and put my phone away.

“You don’t need to take that?”

“Nope.”

After her initial anger, Cora started calling me to talk about a long-distance relationship. I was up front with her that I didn’t want to do that, and she didn’t take it well. Shit.

“I get being busy,” I say, continuing our conversation. “Like I said, I am too.”

“I’d love to hang out with you.”

There’s a pause, a few seconds that stretch out, taut and buzzing. Once again that honesty is disarming. She makes me feel…I don’t even know. She makes me feel good. And I don’t usually feel good when I’m not at the arena.

“Do you have a nickname?”

I blink at the unexpected question. “You mean a hockey nickname?”

“Yeah.”

“The guys call me Hellsy or Hells Bells.”

Her delighted laughter rings out. “I like Hells Bells. Can I call you that?”

“No.”

She laughs again.

“How about you?”

“I don’t play hockey.” She smirks.

“Ha ha.”

“Okay, I’ve been called Sahara. My dad calls me Sarahbarah. And when I was little, I was RaRa.”

“RaRa kind of suits you.”

She makes a face. “Don’t even think about it, Hells Bells.”

I grin. She amuses me so much.

“What do you think about brunch?” she asks.

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