Page 82 of Of Pucking Course

Warmth gathers in my chest. “You baked for me. You hate baking.”

She bites back an adorably shy smile. “I like doing it for you.”

That warm feeling inside of me intensifies. I grab her by the waist and pull her to me, planting a slow and teasing kiss on her lips.

I hum against her mouth. “Thank you.”

She smiles, then holds up a hand. “I almost forgot.” She steps over to the end of the counter and grabs a small plate of butter. “I got your favorite cinnamon butter from that bakery across the street. It’ll taste so good with the banana bread.”

My mouth waters. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I grab a small plate from the floating shelf above the counter and a butter knife from the drawer, and slice up the warm loaf. Then I smear cinnamon butter all over the banana bread. I hand Dakota a slice before I devour mine.

My eyes roll to the back of my head at how delicious the banana bread is when combined with the rich cinnamon butter. “Holy fuck, that’s good.”

Dakota makes a giddy noise. “You really like it?”

“I love it,” I say with my mouth full. I demolish my slice before Dakota is even halfway done with her slice.

I cut off another hunk of the bread, spread some butter on it, and inhale it.

“I know you like to be careful with your sugar intake during the season, so I’m glad you like it,” she says.

I shake my head. “Banana bread is the one thing I’ll make an exception for.”

Dakota playfully pokes at my stomach. “Good. Those washboard abs deserve something sweet every now and then.”

A lot of guys in the league are pretty strict with their diet. I definitely watch what I eat. Now that I’m just a year away from thirty, I notice that what I eat affects how well I play, how fast I move, and how quickly I recover. I can’t get away with those late-night trips to my favorite fast food joints like I did in high school and college.

But I’ve figured out ways to balance it out. If I keep a balanced diet during the season, I can get away with havinga couple of beers after a game a couple times a week and indulging in something sugary every once in a while.

“I’ll happily do extra cardio tomorrow for this banana bread,” I say. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and kiss Dakota’s forehead. She slinks her arms around me and hugs me tight.

“Oh, by the way, Abby thinks Coach Porter is a hottie,” Dakota says.

I cough on a bite of banana bread. I grab a green juice from the fridge and take a long sip.

I laugh. “She does?”

“Yeah. I think she has a thing for sexy older guys.”

“Interesting. Wait, Coach Porter is sexy?” I ask.

Dakota nods. “Oh, yeah.”

I chuckle. “Does Sophie know you think that about her dad?”

“No way. It would gross her out if she knew that I thought he was objectively sexy. But I mean, every woman I know thinks he’s hot.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. He’s tall and fit. He’s in amazing shape for a guy who’s pushing fifty. And he’s got just the right amount of gray hair that blends well with his blonde hair.”

“Wow. I guess I’m a slob in comparison, huh?” I joke.

She laughs and shoves my shoulder before pulling me against her. “You know I think you’re the hottest.”

My ego swells hearing her say that. “Say it again.”

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