Page 81 of Grumpy Pucking Orc
If hockey could somehow be a career for me, one that I could excel at and feel a sense of satisfaction performing, it would involve long weeks, or even months, away from Jordan. But what was the alternative? Even if she’d accepted the idea of returning home with me as my bride, I would face the same painful separation resuming my Guardian duties. Even more so since Guardians did not have off-season breaks like hockey players.
“I understand,” she said softly. “I miss you, but I would never want you to give up something that adds meaning to your life. Just as I need my career, I know you need something outside of our relationship. If that’s hockey, then I’ll cheer you on, attend every game I can, and welcome you home with all my heart.”
My own heart tightened at that.
“The girls and I are getting together to watch tomorrow,” she added. “Tusks against the Penguins in Pittsburgh. Go Orcs!”
I grunted, hoping that we made her proud—thatImade her proud.
“Can I ask you a favor?” Her voice hitched, uncertain and nervous.
“Anything.” My own voice was husky and full of promise. Anything. And I meant it.
“Um…I told my parents about us…and they are planning to go to your game in Buffalo. I wondered if…if you could…I mean, if it’s too much trouble…”
It took me that whole stumbling speech to realize what she was trying to ask.
“How many tickets would they like? Do they want to bring friends? Maybe your brother and his family?” I grimaced, realizing something. “The seats will be behind our bench, not the Saber-enemies’ one.”
She laughed. “That’s perfect. Trust me, they have completely changed allegiance. The moment I told them we were dating, they became rabid Tusks fans. Expect some embarrassing displays of support.”
I smiled, thrilled that her family was ready to cheer for me and my terrible team, that they had welcomed me into the family sight unseen, just because their daughter loved me. If only my father could meet them.
If only my mother could have met them.
“Just let me know how many tickets you need, and I will arrange for them.” We were allocated a certain number of tickets each game for friends and family, but they always went unclaimed since none of us had friends or family here. Maybe we should arrange for those tickets to go to one of our special interest areas. Children. Elderly. Homeless. Animals from the shelter.
Although, I’d never seen animals at any of our games. Were they not allowed? Either way, it might be interesting to have a bunch of dogs and cats behind our bench as we played.
“Thank you, Ozar. They’re so excited to see you play.”
I winced, knowing Jordan’s parents would be watching yet another game that we would lose. But I’d make sure we did our best. And I appreciated their support.
“Can I ask a favor in return?” I hadn’t meant to bring this up on our first phone call, but something had clicked the moment she’d texted back, and we were fully connected again, as if the disagreement two days ago had never happened.
“Anything.”
It was such a weird ask, but I powered on. “Can you send me a cannoli?”
She burst out laughing. “I’ve created a monster, a cannoli addict. Just one? How about a dozen? I want to make sure I’m feeding your cannoli cravings. And should I send some milk as well?”
Milk. How I missed the amazing milk deliveries. The stuff they had at the hotels just wasn’t the same.
“I want to award our best player a cannoli at the end of each game.” I hesitated. “But I would like one for myself as well.”
“Two, becauseyou’rethe best player,” she purred.
That low, husky voice shot right through me, hardening my hand-axe.
“Two for me, and one for the second-best player,” I replied.
“Text me the address of your hotels and I’ll overnight freshly made cannoli the day before each game. A dozen, because it’s important for my orc to have all of his needs met.”
Yep. Hard as iron.
“My needs right now are going unmet.” And it was downright painful.
Jordan’s soft laugh added to my agony. “Where are you now? Somewhere private?”
