Page 8 of Game Changer
There were a lot of articles. Most of them had the same information: Scott had been born and raised in Rochester, and had always been the best player on any team he played for, right from his adolescent days. The articles often highlighted his generous devotion to charities, especially those that help sick children, and described him as an outstanding role model on and off the ice.
The other thing the articlesalwaysmentioned was that Scott Hunter was one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. He had never been linked to a woman for any significant amount of time (interesting), and he tended to dodge any questions about his private life (more interesting).
Kip was busy saving the photos from Scott’sGQarticle onto his phone when the door opened. He scrambled to shove his phone into his pocket as Scott Hunter entered the shop.
It would be ridiculous to say that Scott’s face lit up when he saw Kip, but...thatreallywas what it looked like.
“Kip!” he said, a delighted smile spreading across his sweat-slicked face. “I was worried you might not be working today.”
“You were?” Kip asked, too shocked to say anything more intelligent.
“I just mean...” And did Scott Hunter seemembarrassed? “I like to keep as many things the same in my routine as possible, and you made the other two smoothies, so...”
“Must be something about the way I make ’em,” Kip said, bravely attempting a flirtatious smile.
“Must be.”
Kip gathered the ingredients and started dropping them into the blender. “I watched the game the other night,” he said. “That last goal was really something.”
“Thanks.” Scott sounded like he truly appreciated it. “I felt good about that one.”
He smiled at Kip, whose mouth went dry. He turned on the blender before he could say something stupid like,What do your abs taste like?
“All alone today?” Scott asked as Kip handed him his usual.
“Yeah, uh, I was supposed to be working with someone, but he called in sick. I don’t think he’s actually sick. He’s kind of useless.” Kip cringed inwardly as he said this.As if Scott Hunter gives a shit about your co-workers.
“Sorry to hear it,” Scott said. “I’ve had teammates like that.”
Kip laughed, because was Scott Hunter seriously comparing their two lines of work?
“You, uh, you mind if I drink this here?” Scott asked, as if there weren’t tables and chairs right next to him. “I just...have some emails to read.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it in the air.
“Of course, yeah,” Kip said, not able to believe his luck. Scott sat at one of the little bistro tables with his back to the door (and his face to Kip). Kip tried hard not to just stare at him as Scott scrolled through emails on his phone, occasionally sipping from his blue smoothie. He was drinking it veryslowly, it seemed.
After fifteen minutes, Kip left his station behind the counter and went to work wiping tables that didn’t need to be cleaned at all.
When he was at the table next to Scott’s, he took a chance and broke the silence. “You sure this isn’t going to mess up your game? Breaking routine like this?”
“What? Oh, no. I don’t have to doeverythingthe same. I mean, I’m notthatobsessive.”
“Sure,” Kip said, with a bit of a smirk.
Scott grinned and even laughed. “I probably do seem weird, don’t I? Acting like this smoothie is a magic potion or something.”
Kip shrugged. “I’ve read about athletes. You’re all nuts, right? Putting your uniforms on a certain way, not changing your socks, not shaving...”
Scott pointed an accusing finger at him. “Hey, only in the playoffs, and that is a time-honored tradition!”
“Totally normal, then.”
Kip could not believe what he was about to do, but he had to test the waters. Just a little.
“Not saying I mind it,” he said, as casually as he could manage. “You guys always look so rugged by the time you hoist the cup. Like a bunch of hot lumberjacks.”
There. So that was out there.
Scott looked at him, and Kip could swear the ghost of a smile passed over his lips.
