Page 7 of Body Check

Right?

TWO

NOVEMBER – THANKSGIVING

Gavin stood near the wet bar, watching Connor O’Shea slowly drag his thumb across Jesse Webber’s upper arm.

They were curled up together on the couch watching a game, Connor’s youngest daughter napping in his lap, face pressed against his neck. Jesse appeared to be napping too, his head lolled onto Connor’s other shoulder.

They were good for each other.

While Jesse would always be a free spirit, the goaltender had calmed down considerably in the months since Gavin had negotiated his trade to Boston.

Connor, captain of the Boston Harriers hockey team, appeared steadier. More sure of himself. He looked happy, that tight, pinched look he’d carried since his divorce gone.

Gavin wished he could say the same for himself, but while the team was doing better than they had last season, it still wasn’t where it needed to be, he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, and this damned tension headache wouldn’t go away …

But, he should probably mingle. He glanced around to see who else was here and his gaze landed on Dakota Crane.

Dakota—who was also standing by himself—offered him a tense smile.

After the horrible first impression he’d made and the way they’d butted heads over equipment and budget allocation more than once, Gavin had finally offered Dakota a deal.

If the team showed improvements by the midpoint of the season in the metrics Gavin was tracking, he’d reconsider the idea of investing in additional equipment.

Dakota had shaken on that, and they’d had a tentative truce ever since.

It would look kind of rude if Gavin didn’t at least make an effort to be friendly, since this Thanksgiving celebration was essentially a work event.

Gavin took a fortifying sip of whiskey, then walked over to Dakota. “Having a nice time today?”

“Yeah,” Dakota said, giving him another tight smile. “It’s been good. How about you?”

“Yeah, not bad,” Gavin said with a thoughtful hum.

“Really? I noticed you standing over there scowling earlier. You looked awfully serious for a guy at a party who’s swilling down some very fine Irish whiskey,” he said.

Gavin chuckled, holding the glass out in a little toast. “To a guy who knows his whiskeys.”

Dakota shrugged. “Oh, not that well. I saw the bottle and vaguely recognized the name, but I don’t actually drink much.”

That didn’t particularly surprise Gavin. Dakota spent his days bending himself into flexible positions and certainly gave off the vibes of the kind of man who liked to sit cross-legged and chant “om” while he meditated. Indulging in alcohol didn’t seem like his thing.

Then again, Gavin didn’t exactly know him well.

Dakota’s hiring shortly before training camp had been so odd.

Though Gavin probably shouldn’t complain about it when he’d gotten his brother hired with the organization recently. Nepotism truly was alive and well in the hockey world.

For a moment, they just stared at each other.

“Uhh, so I came over to make awkward small talk because you were standing by yourself, but would you rather I leave you to it?” Gavin asked.

“No. Sorry.” Dakota offered him a weak smile. “I’m just not great company today.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve had this damned headache for the past two days.”

He rubbed the back of his neck because he could feel the pain radiating up from there.

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