Page 50 of For the Win

I stare at him incredulously.“Seriously?”

“Lots of women like that.”

“If that’s how you have to get women to date you, that’s sad.”

He flicks his middle finger my way.“Fuck you.”

“I’ll figure something out.”I shake my head.

“Don’t ask Archie,” Bergie says with a grin.“He has the worst luck with dates.”

“It’s true.”Archie rolls his eyes.“Remember my blind date?”

I shake my head.I haven’t heard these stories.

“I met this girl at a restaurant.She didn’t say a word the whole time we ate dinner.Seriously.Not.A.Word.After I paid the bill, she just got up and left.”

“What the fuck?”

“Yeah.Then I checked my phone and discovered a text from the chick I was supposed to meet, saying she couldn’t make it.”

I crack up laughing.

“Still don’t know who the hell I had dinner with.”He shakes his head, grinning.

“How about the time you texted your date that you wished you hadn’t asked her out?”Nicky asks.

“Ha!I was trying to textyou.Right in the middle of the date, I accidentally texted her.She looked at her phone, then looked at me.Awkward!”

We take our time at dinner because we’re going to a dance club that doesn’t even open until nine-thirty.We pile into a bunch of cabs the valet at the entrance of the hotel waves up for us.This place supposedly has great DJs, and on a Thursday night, should be hopping.

Not that I care.I’m not feeling the club vibe right now.I want to get home and see how Dad’s doing and take Arya out on a date and maybe go see my half brothers, Mark and Matthew, and give them shit.

It doesn’t take long for women to notice us.Nicky and Jimmy order bottles of wine and pour them drinks, and a bunch of guys are dancing with girls in short, sexy dresses.I catch the eye of a hot blonde.She smiles.I look away and sip my whisky.

I’m used to this, although the cities I usually travel to are smaller and the bars not quite as plush as this one.Wherever we are, women always seem to notice the hockey players.Tonight, I’m not interested.I lean back on the banquette where I’m sitting and think about Arya...her toned body, how her soft hand felt in mine as we walked on the beach, her pretty mouth, and how she helped me process what’s happening with Dad.

It’s been a while since I had a girlfriend.I forgot what it’s like to have someone to talk to, someone you can share that kind of stuff with and not feel like a complete dork.Ihaven’tforgotten what sex is like, though, and I’d really like to know how that is with Arya too.I bet it’s spectacular.I was all pissed at Archie when he made that comment about Arya being flexible, but I have to admit I’ve thought of it too.

I start imagining the kinds of positions we could try...No.Stop.I’m getting a boner.Can’t have that.Instead, I think about what’s going to happen with Dad.And the team.And Mom.Yeah, that takes care of the ill-timed erection, all right.

* * *

Arya won’t letme pick her up at her home, which makes me sigh.It also makes me wonder why not.She lives with a man.She said they’re just friends, and she said he has a boyfriend ...but maybe that’s not true...Is she hiding something from me?

I hate thinking things like that.I’m not naïve, but I like to think that people are mostly good and honest.And when I think of it, I wouldn’t want my sister letting strange men pick her up at home.Not that I’m strange.Ha.

After a little texting back and forth, we agreed to meet at the Golden Fish, the bar owned by her roommate’s boyfriend.As I near the place, I see her standing on the sidewalk outside.

A smile breaks out on my face.

Her hair is down again tonight, in long waves of all different shades of gold.She’s wearing jeans—first time I’ve seen her in jeans—dark jeans that fit her slender curves perfectly, with a black-and-white graphic T-shirt and a tiny red leather jacket over it.On her feet are metallic gold flats.

I pull up to the curb and lift my hand.She spots me, and her spontaneous smile leaves no mistaking that she’s happy to see me too.

Something inside my chest puffs up.

She slides in and pulls the door closed.We turn to each other, both smiling like jackasses eating thistles, as my Grandpa Clark says.

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