Page 17 of Common Goal
“I once watched you drink three Cherry Cokes at an All-Star weekend lunch, so don’t pretend you don’t like sweet drinks.”
Ilya looked a little stunned by Eric’s snark. Then he grinned. “I did not know you were so interested in me.”
“I’m not. At all. It was a shocking amount of Cherry Coke for a pro athlete to consume. It was memorable.”
“You know,” Ilya said with a weird little smile. “You were not the only one to think so that day.” He took another sip of his drink, and made a disgusted face. “Where is Kyle? Or the other one, Hunter’s guy.”
Eric sighed. “Stay here. I’ll get you a beer.”
Ilya’s smirk was far too knowing. “Yes. You go talk to Kyle. Would you like me to hold your wedding ring?”
Eric didn’t answer him. He turned and strode toward the bar before Ilya could see his cheeks darken.
Kyle was just returning to the bar when Eric got there. “Oh, hey,” Kyle said. It definitely wasn’t warm.
“Ilya wants a beer, and I wanted to stretch my legs,” Eric said.
“Uh-huh. What kind of beer?”
This conversation wasn’t going at all the way Eric wanted it to. He tried for flirtatious. He leaned forward a bit, resting an elbow on the bar top. “I might need to rely on your expert opinion for that.”
Kyle stared at him, his expression so unfriendly that Eric slid his elbow off the bar and let his arm hang at his side. Then Kyle said, with a huff of irritation, “I like the red ale.”
“Okay. I’ll go with that, then.”
Kyle grabbed a glass and wordlessly filled it with ale. Eric awkwardly accepted it, but didn’t move to return to the table. Heshouldleave, he knew that, but he also desperately wanted Kyle’s attention, if only for a moment.
Why is he still here?
Kyle was starting to wish Eric would outright proposition him so he could turn him down and be done with it.
Maybe he doesn’t want to proposition you.
It was definitely a possibility. Kip had said that Eric could use a friend—someone to talk about art and history and other non-hockey things with. In fact, it wasextremelypossible that Kyle was being an asshole because he was projecting his past heartbreak onto a perfectly innocent attractive older man.
An attractive older man who looked completely lost right now, holding someone else’s beer and seemingly trying to think of something to say that would make Kyle be nice to him.
Kyle decided to throw him a bone. “Do you have the day off tomorrow?”
Eric’s face lit up, and Kyle flooded with shame. “I do.”
Kyle pretended to be busy wiping down the bar. “And how does Eric Bennett spend his days off?”
Eric seemed to think about it for a moment. “I do a more intensive yoga practice at home on days when I don’t have a game or practice.”
“Wow.” Kyle laughed. “Is that how you kick back and unwind? Intensive yoga?”
“Yes.” There was nothing playful in Eric’s tone, so Kyle let it drop. Maybe the yoga was enjoyable for Eric. Maybe intensive yoga turned into intensive, flexible morning sex with his wife.
“I’m also going to visit my friend’s gallery,” Eric said. “She’s preparing a new exhibit and wants to show me the paintings in advance. I’ll be on the road for the opening.”
“Oh, that’s right! You’re a patron of the arts.” Kyle said it as if he’d completely forgotten that Eric collected art. It was one of many enchanting things about Eric Bennett that Kyle was trying not to think about.
“I buy art that I like,” Eric corrected. “It’s mostly selfish.”
“Is that something a lot of hockey players do? Collect art?” Kyle already guessed that it wasn’t.
“Not many that I’ve met. Nothing against my teammates—some of them are my best friends—but they aren’t the most cultured bunch.”
