Page 7 of One Good Puck
I sip my water and try not to eavesdrop, even though I’m right across from him and can hear everything he’s saying.
“…I’m not sure…only if you really need to…okay…I’m on my way.”
He ends the call and looks at me. “I’m sorry, but some work stuff came up. I have to go.”
“Oh, sure.” I stand up with him. “I should get going too.”
“Let me walk you to your car. Where are you parked?”
Together we walk out of the bar and head down the street to my car a couple of blocks away. I notice that he walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street. Such a protective thing to do.
I think back to earlier, when he started to ask me something before he was interrupted by that phone call. Part of me was wondering if he was going to ask me out. I hoped that’s what he was about to do. The few times I’ve spenttime with Gavin, I noticed he’s always smiling when he talks to me. He’s not like that with most people, and the hopeful part of me wonders if it’s because he likes me. It would make my crush on him seem a little less sad.
We make it to my car. “This is me.” I unlock it, and he reaches over to open the door for me. Once more, I’m fighting off a swoon.
Sucha gentleman. When was the last time a guy opened my car door for me? I can’t remember.
I turn to him. “Thanks again for saving me earlier.”
The corner of his mouth hooks up. “My pleasure. It was good running into you, Abby.”
The hope that he’ll ask me out starts to fade. Maybe I misread everything. He’s just a good guy.
I keep my smile up, hoping my disappointment isn’t obvious. “You too. Hope to see you again soon.”
I hop in my car, and he closes the door for me. He rounds the front and offers a wave and an easy smile before walking off.
I wait until he’s out of sight before I lean back against the headrest and let out a groan, feeling silly at the schoolgirl crush I’ve developed on a guy who clearly isn’t into me.
Chapter 3
Gavin
Istand on the edge of the ice and watch our newest player, Ryker St. George, run his ass off during training camp.
“He’s looking pretty good,” my assistant coach Jason says to me.
“Yeah. He is,” I say.
Ryker rockets across the ice during the speed drill that the players on the team are running through. The strides he takes are long and powerful. He’s able to launch himself a foot farther than half of the other players on the team. Probably because he’s huge—almost six-foot-four. But also because he’s well-trained and conditioned. He’s been doing this for years and years, and he’s really damn good at it.
Jason blows his whistle, signaling for the guys to skate backwards. Ryker shifts effortlessly into a backwards skate, quicker than a third of the other guys. Just like when he was skating forward, he uses his long stride to rocket himself across the ice. In a single stride, he covers more than six feet, which is more than half the other guys can do.
“Damn. He’s moving fast,” Jason says.
I nod. “He’s impressive.”
Jason doesn’t say anything at first. “Gotta say, when Alan said we were getting a thirty-five-year-old winger after getting rid of McCoy, I was nervous. I still am nervous.”
“Why? You’ve seen how St. George plays. He’s been in the league for almost fifteen years. He’s a solid player, no question.”
“He’s also been injured a lot. That shoulder injury he had two seasons ago and the resulting surgery took him out for almost three months. At his age, no matter how good you are, your body just doesn’t bounce back like it did when you were twenty-two.”
I can’t argue with Jason there.
“Fair point,” I say. “But if we keep on top of his conditioning and recovery, he should be okay.”
Jason nods, but I can tell by his hesitant expression that he doesn’t quite believe me.
