Page 126 of Playing the Pucking Game
We’re almost at the end of our song, and I’m about to claim victory, when a voice cuts through the room.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like, Doc? We’re dancing,” Monroe replies proudly.
33
PARKER
Iblink. Surely there aren’t a bunch of hockey players in front of me playing on a dance mat.
I have to be dreaming.
“Oh, yes, motherfucker. Get in,” Linc roars, and when I rip my eyes from where he and Fletch stand side by side on matching mats, I find that the TV screen is declaring him the winner.
“Fuck’s sake,” Fletch mutters as he collapses on the couch, his chest heaving and his face flushed while Linc cracks out the robot as a celebration dance. But when he spins around and his eyes land on me, he pauses, letting his arms drop to the side.
“Hey, are you coming to join us?”
“Do I want to watch the six of you battle on dance mats? Hell yes. I’m gonna film the fuck out of it and send it to Brooke. It’ll be viral in seconds.”
Linc’s face lights up at my agreement, but Handsy doesn’t sound so thrilled as he barks, “Oh no, you can’t do that.”
“Yesss, they’ll all know that I wiped the floor with Calvin Keller,” Monroe announces happily.
“It was just a warm-up round,” Killer mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and doing a very good job of mimicking a sulking toddler.
“Sure it was,” Monroe says, patting Killer’s head patronizingly and making me snort a laugh.
“Grab a drink, Parker. The fun is only just getting started.”
Noting that they all have bottles of water, I do the same after dropping my purse on the kitchen island, abandoning my coat and tugging off my boots.
Curling my legs beneath me, I get settled at the opposite end of the couch to where Fletch is now sitting and assess the setup.
“So is this something you guys do regularly or?—”
“First time,” Fletch explains.
“My sister shipped these to me. Dared me to play with the guys and send her a video,” Monroe adds.
“She needs an extra big Christmas present for that,” I tell him happily.
“Have you got a league going or?—”
“Handsy and Storm have won the first round against Brit and Fletch.”
“Only just,” Fletch mutters.
“Can’t say the same for Brit. Handsy has rhythm,” Killer tells me.
“And I missed it?” I laugh, my eyes finding our grumpy goalie.
“Don’t worry, there is going to be a second round. Handsy vs Storm.”
I bounce in my seat. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun. Maybe living here isn’t so bad after all.” My eyes find Linc’s across the room. For a moment, he looks sad, but as he registers the teasing in my tone, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile.
“Hey,” he mouths, while the others are distracted with bickering over who’s the best dancer. It’s not something I thought I’d ever get to experience.
