Page 51 of Played
She tells no lies.
My eyes follow him as he skates toward the bench. God, I want that man. I can admit that to myself.
Doesn’t mean I’m still not scared shitless.
“Wow, what a game!” Patrice clasps her hands together in front of her, a huge grin lighting her face. “The guys killed it tonight! This extends their winning streak to eight games in a row.”
I laugh at her enthusiasm. When I met Patrice earlier in the evening, she seemed like a sweet, demure woman. But once the puck dropped and her husband and his team flew into action, all that sweetness went right out the window. She yelled at the ref, booed the other team, and screamed louder than anyone when the Pirates scored. Between her andthe fascinating, fast-paced, and fucking brutal game that played out in front of me, I stayed amused.
“And look at your man, doing the damn thing with a Gordie Howe hat trick.” Noni nudges me with her elbow. “He was on fire tonight. Hmm. I wonder why.”
“Stop it,” I growl at her. “And what’s a Gordie Howell hat trick?”
“Gordie Howe,” Patrice corrects with a smile, and I don’t take offense. Hell, if not for her and Noni, I would’ve been lost the last two and a half hours. “It’s when a player gets a goal, an assist, and into a fight in the same game.”
“Ohhh.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t soon forget the sight of Solomon scrapping like the other player tried to steal his mama’s purse. A Detroit player slammed Solomon up against the boards in the third period. Patrice explained it was technically legal but still a dirty hit. Probably because the Red Wings were losing 3–1 by then.
Whatever the reason ... call me basic, but that shit had got me hot. Even thinking back on it has my belly quivering. The other player had tried to hang with Solomon, but he hadn’t been a match for him. Solomon had handed his ass to him with blow after blow before the refs and their teammates broke it up.
“I’m going to head on back and meet my husband. It was amazing meeting you two ladies.” Patrice pulls me into a hug, surprising me, but I gladly return the embrace. She stands and treats Noni to a hug too. See? When she isn’t yelling at the other team and calling them fucking pussies, she’s a delight. “I hope you come to another game. I had fun sitting with you. A lot of the time, it’s just me and my sister.” She gestures to the other woman beside her, who was a lot quieter throughout the game. “Most of the players’ wives sit in the luxury box, so it can get a little lonely down here.”
“We had a ball too. Hopefully, we’ll see you soon,” I say, deliberately not promising to attend another game.
I’d been kind of emotionally blackmailed into coming to this one. I enjoyed myself, but still. Besides, I had no clue what this ... thing with Solomon was. This game might just be a one-off. My chest tightens at that thought, but I deliberately brighten my smile as Patrice and her sister wave goodbye and one of the stadium’s staff appears, escorting them out of our row and up the stairs.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m starved. That doughboy was great, but my stomach is gnawing at my back.” Another of the Pirates’ staff waits at the end of the row, I’m guessing to guide us out to our cars, and I’m ready to go.
“You don’t want to wait and see Solomon? Thank him for the tickets? Ask him for some di—”
“I will kill you, stuff you in my trunk, and help people look for the body. Play with me if you want to.”
“Fiiine. So savage.” She looks me up and down. “If Solomon doesn’t fuck you, I might be interested in a little friends-with-benefits situation with you.”
“I swear, Noni—”
My threat and her cackle are cut short by the yelling of my name. Even above the shouts and chatter of the people steadily and slowly exiting the arena, I hear that sweet, high-pitched voice screaming my name.
A ball of warmth swirls in my chest, expanding and spreading as Khalil climbs down the stairs, heading straight for me. Apprehension seeps through my delight. Good God, little kids have zero sense of self-preservation or fear. While he leaps from step to step, my heart lodges in my throat, worried he’s going to fall and tumble down the long flight.
Moving out of my row, I hurriedly climb the stairs to meet him halfway. When we reach the same landing, he throws his arms around my thighs, hugging me tight. Laughing at his over-the-top exuberance, I kneel and squeeze his small, sturdy body. His arms encircle my neck, and for a moment, I inhale his scent that is pure little boy—a bit ofsweat, hot dogs, and that little-boy scent that should be bottled up and distributed with happiness diffusers.
“Ms. Dina! You came!”
“Of course I did.” I lean back and grin down at him. “You look amazing in your dad’s jersey.”
The green, blue, and white jersey with his father’s number must’ve been custom made, because it fit him like a glove.
“Thanks, Ms. Dina! You’re wearing Daddy’s jersey too!”
“Yep, we match.”
Khalil looks over my shoulder and behind me. “Where’s Fireman Jared? Is he here too?”
“No, he had to work at the fire station tonight, but he’ll be here for the next home game. He told me to tell you hi, though.”
“Tell him I saidSee you later!”
