Page 38 of Cross Check Christmas
"You're really going to make me suffer through three hours of..." He squints at me. "Let me guess. Non-fiction audiobooks?"
"I'll have you know my taste in music… and audiobooks is excellent."
"Sure it is." He winks – actually winks – at me before turning to walk away. “See you Friday.”
I watch him go, fighting the warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. This is perfect. Everything's falling into place.
So why do I feel so guilty?
13
HENDRIX
Ican't focus on the game. Not with Colette sitting two seats away, practically vibrating with excitement as she chats with Maggie and Emily. The three of them hit it off immediately - of course they did. Her cheeks are flushed from the excitement - or maybe it's from Maggie's non-stop commentary.
"And that's why we call him 'Hot Hands Henderson,'" Maggie waves her arms, nearly spilling her drink.
The women burst into laughter, and Colette's practically glowing.
"Men," Emily rolls her eyes. "Imagine the looks on their faces when they realize I'm the only female Zamboni driver in the league."
"You drive the Zamboni?" Colette's eyes light up. "That's so cool!"
“I’ve cut back my hours lately,” Emily says. “But I do love being out there.”
I try to focus on the game - there's a power play happening and I should be studying the Titans' formation - but Colette's perfume keeps distracting me. Something light and wintery, like snow and vanilla.
Kevin Tate’s wife, Leigh, slides into the seat next to me with a toddler on her hip. "Your girl's fitting right in."
"She's not my-" I start to protest, but Leigh just gives me a knowing look.
Colette laughs at something Maggie just whispered in her ear. Leigh waves over one of the servers. "Get Miss McAllister another glass of champagne. We need to properly welcome her to the hockey WAGs club."
"Oh, I'm not—" Colette's cheeks flush pink. "Hendrix and I aren't?—"
“Who said anything about Hendrix?” Maggie waves her hand dismissively. "You're one of us now, honey."
Fantastic. Why am I even here? Other than Leigh’s squirming toddler, I’m the only guy among all these women, and not in a fun way. Besides, the only woman I care about right now is Colette. I can't take my eyes off her. Every time she laughs at one of Maggie's outrageous stories, how she cheers at the wrong times, or when she gets that adorable scrunch of her nose, I find myself grinning like an idiot.
The Knights are up 3-1 but I've barely registered a single play. The box seats give us a bird’s eye view of the ice, but I keep stealing glances at Colette instead of watching Liam crush my teammates into the boards.
Colette's hair falls across her shoulder when she leans forward to get a better view.
"Your brother's really good," she says softly.
"Yeah." I clear my throat, suddenly salty that she’s watching my brother. The thought makes my stomach twist. "He is."
The second period's winding down, and I'm still trying to figure out if this counts as a date, but does sitting in a box full of hockey wives while watching my brother demolish my team qualify? We drove here together, we're sitting next to each other - sort of. There's champagne involved. But she thinks she's herebecause of... actually, I have no idea why she agreed to come. Gran and Aunt Goldie must have promised her something big - maybe lifetime immunity from their infamous neighborhood Christmas cookie bake-off? Those things are ruthless.
I pull out my phone and text Tucker.
Me: Does this count as a date?
His reply comes back instantly.
Tucker: Did YOU ask her out?
Me: No. But we're here together.
