Page 3 of One Good Puck
“See you at training camp next week, gentlemen,” I say before heading to the back where the restrooms are. When I walk out of the men’s room and back into the main part of the bar, I hear a familiar voice.
I turn around and see Abby sitting at a small booth in the back corner with some guy. I’ve met Abby a dozen times. She’s the friend and coworker of Dakota Richards, who is Del’s younger sister and the girlfriend of Sam.
Since Abby is looking at the guy sitting across from her, she doesn’t see me, which is probably a good thing. I bet I look like my eyes are about to pop out of my head. Her blonde hair is styled in pretty waves, and she’s wearing a yellow sundress. She looks gorgeous. She always looks gorgeous.
The first time I met her, I probably came off like a bumbling idiot. I couldn’t help it. She’s stunning.
And way out of your league, old man.
Abby is in her early thirties and is a kindergarten teacher. She’s sweet and kind and funny. A few of the times we’ve talked, I got the impression she was flirting with me. I thought about asking her out, but I talked myself out of it. I’m pushing fifty. No way she’d be interested in a guy like me—a grumpy workaholic hockey coach.
She laughs at something the guy she’s with says. She’s clearly on a date with someone who looks closer to her age.
A disappointed feeling shoots through me. I’m instantly annoyed at myself. I don’t have any right to feel disappointed. She’s not mine.
A second later, I notice her smile goes tight.
“I should get going,” she says.
“Where do you want to head next?”
Her smile falters. “Sorry, but I don’t have time to do anything else. I need to pick up my daughter.”
“I can give you a ride. I love kids.” I frown at the smugness of the guy’s tone.
“No, that’s alright. I’m not comfortable with strangers around my daughter.”
The guy leans back like he’s offended.
“What do you mean? I’m a good guy. I’m great with kids.”
Abby’s expression falters for a second. She looks annoyed and disgusted, but the guy is too self-absorbed to notice.
He sets his credit card on the table, but Abby shakes her head.
“It’s okay, I can pay for my drink.” She pulls cash from her purse and goes to set it on their table, but the guy grabs her hand in his, holding her back.
I notice the way she tenses immediately. She tries to gently pull out of his grip, but he doesn’t let go. He just flashes that obnoxious, smug smile again.
Protectiveness flares up inside of me. This guy needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.
“Come on, Abby. What kind of date would I be if I let you pay?”
Abby lets out a tired sigh. “This isn’t a date, Logan. I told you that.”
With a sharp jerk, she pulls her hand out of his grip. And that’s when I notice the change in his expression. His smile drops. He looks pissed.
I’m pissed too. Because whoever this guy is, he’s blatantly ignoring Abby’s boundaries, even though she’s made them clear. And he doesn’t seem interested in taking no for an answer.
That protectiveness inside of me sharpens. She shouldn’t have to put up with this shit.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I walk over to their table and stand next to Abby. I glance down at her and watch the recognition flash in her eyes.
“Gavin. Hi.”
“Hey, sweetness. Sorry I’m late.”
Yeah, it’s the most cliché thing in the world, pretending to be her boyfriend to get rid of this creep. But my first instinct was to grab the guy by his neck and toss him out of the bar, and I know that’s not the best way to handle this.
