Page 9 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

This is game three of a road trip through Canada. I got one on the scoreboard tonight, helping the Storm Chasers continue our winning streak. Coach even gave me a pat on the back when the final buzzer sounded and we headed for the locker room. He’s currently huddled in the back corner with Hugh “Cappy” Picard, our backup goalie. Based on the muscle twitching in Cappy’s jaw, I don’t think Coach is too happy he let one in the net tonight. Druggy, our veteran goalie, has been stepping back to let Cappy play more this season, saving his hips and knees for our most important matches. I’m just happy Coach’s perennial bad mood is focused elsewhere today.

It’s been a week away from home, and I’ve missed seeing Molly’s backside. Honestly, I’m starting to think I see more of her backside as she walks away from me than I see of those bewitching eyes. There’s just something about her that pulls me in. Maybe it’s her complete lack of ability to flirt. Or her wit when she does let herself speak what’s on her mind. And let's not forget those sexy pencil skirts.

My phone dings in my locker. I shove my gloves in there and open my phone to see a picture from Benny. He’s got a bundle of newborn baby in his arms, a goofy grin on both their faces. I went to see Benny and Kaitlyn before we left on this trip. Thankfully, Benny didn’t kick my ass for Kaitlyn’s water breaking on my watch, but he did make me hold Mei, their newborn daughter. She’s pretty damn cute for something that belches and poops all day long.

“Golden Girls sent you a naked selfie, Roadie?” Dan-O elbows me from his locker next to me. “You got that glazed look again.”

I frown at the captain of our team. The boys always give me shit for going for the older women. They nicknamed them collectively Golden Girls, a joke I find obnoxious. Okay, fine. It’skind of funny. It’d be the type of shit I’d say if it was someone else dating the over-forty set.

“It’s a naked selfie all right.” I waggle my eyebrows and that fucker Dan-O leans over to catch a glimpse. “Hey!” I hold the phone to my chest. “Sara would not approve.”

Dan-O flips me off at the mention of his wife and removes his shirt. Dude needs to start manscaping again. He’s hairier than a wildebeest. “That looks like Mei.”

I shrug and get undressed, needing food after all the play time I’m getting with Benny being on paternity leave. “It is. I told Benny to send me daily pictures. These kiddos grow up so fast.” I say that last part with a falsetto voice. It’s true though. She already looks different from the day I saw her.

Dan-O slaps me on the back on his way to the showers. “Ah, Roadie’s getting soft in his old age.”

My gaze flicks to the corner where Coach is still letting Cappy have it. My voice increases in volume. “I guess so. I even went house shopping the other day.”

“Now you just need a wife and a baby in a baby carriage,” Forns sing-songs as he throws a towel at me.

I flip him off, then look over at Coach to make sure he didn’t see that. I’ve successfully gone two weeks without instigating even a verbal argument with anyone outside my purview as enforcer. Thankfully Cappy’s got his full attention.

I join the boys over in the shower area and scrub away the game. I redress in slacks, brown loafers, a button-down blue shirt, sport coat, and my favorite Panama hat. This one has a peacock feather tucked into the ribbon that matches my shirt. The feather is technically removable but who would want to take the feather off? It’s a goddamn work of art.

Half of the post-game press conference is focused on Benny being out, Cappy taking over as goalie, and my outfit. I don’t mind fielding questions about my attire, unlike some of theother guys who think the questions should be focused on our game play.

On the bus back to our hotel, Dan-O leans across the aisle. “What’s up with the hat? Planning on going on a safari?”

I shake my head at his lack of fashion knowledge. “This is a Panama hat. Natural fibers sourced from Ecuador and woven by hand. Every gentleman should own at least one Panama hat.”

Dan-O busts up laughing. “Okay, Roadie. I’ll add that to my Christmas list this year.”

“You do that. Sara would appreciate a gentleman.”

He smirks. “Nah. She likes meungentlemanly, if you know what I mean.”

Druggy turns around in his seat in front of me. I brace for a scathing remark. “Chloe tells me it is called ‘a gentleman in the streets and a freak in the sheets.’”

The bus erupts with everyone congratulating Druggy on finally getting an American phrase correct and giving their opinion on what the ladies actually want from their men. As for me, I tune them all out and text Molly with yet another listing I want to go see with her. I’ve pretty much sent her five houses a day since I’ve been gone. She told me to be selective, so that’s what I’m doing. And if it means I get to spend hours with her, touring all the houses, so be it. She texts back right away, asking if we can start our tours two days from now.

Me: I’ll be flying home tomorrow morning so if we can do a few tomorrow night, that would be great too.

Molly: Let me see if that’ll work.

Me: Do you have another client tomorrow night?

Molly: No.

Me: Then . . . why won’t that work?

I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’ve been wanting to see Molly all week and I don’t want to wait.

Molly: If you must know, I have to see if I can use Coco’s car.

I frown, wondering why we can’t use Molly’s car. Then again, maybe she doesn’t have a car. Even though my brain hasn’t left her side all week, I don’t actually know much about her.

Me: Problem solved. We’ll use mine. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at six.

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