Page 215 of Playing the Pucking Game
Unable to find much, she settles on a branded cup sleeve.
“This?” she asks as if it’s the weirdest thing I’ve signed.
It isn’t.
I take it, glad she didn’t decide to ask me to sign a body part instead.
It wouldn’t be the first time a girl has pulled their top up or down and asked me to sign their tits.
The first time was fun, the second too, but the buzz has more than worn off now. Especially as there is only one pair I’m interested in looking at and touching.
And it hasn’t escaped my attention that I didn’t even get a glimpse of them last night.
“It’s Matilda,” she says as I hover the pen over the card.
“Will you be coming to the game tonight?” I ask as I sign.
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll be wearing your jersey as well.”
“There you go,” I say, happily ignoring that last comment. There is only one woman I want wearing my jersey, but I can’t see that happening anytime soon, seeing as she works all our games.
“Will you all be going out after the game?” she asks, her eyes hopeful.
“Ah, I’m not sure yet,” I lie.
We’re travelling straight after leaving the arena, ready for another game tomorrow, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“I’ll keep an eye on socials, see if my friends and I can catch you anywhere.”
“Sounds good, Matilda,” I say, making her cheeks blaze.
Christ. Bunnies are so easy.
Once upon a time, I used to get off on their eagerness.
Now, though…now, the only thing that gets me going is the game that Parker and I are playing.
She wants me; I know she does. And hell knows I want her too. She’s just…trying to do the right thing.
It’s admirable.
But she can only hold out for so long.
I place my order, Matilda scrawls my name on the cup, and then I move to the other end of the counter where a guy is making the orders.
I get a few glances from others in the coffee shop, but thankfully, no one else asks me for anything. The barista in particular looks completely unfazed when he hands me Parker’s iced coffee. With that, and a pastry in a bag, I make my way back to the arena before Fletch and Coach have a coronary that I’m missing.
Despite needing to be in the visitors’ dressing room, getting ready for our time on the ice, I divert toward the training room.
The door is open, and voices filter down to me.
I come to a stop just shy of being seen as Parker’s voice hits my ears.
I listen as she passionately talks about players and what injuries they’re battling. She discusses their need to keep a particular eye on Monroe’s defense partner due to a hip flexor injury during our previous home game. She explains how she’s advised Jarad to put him on the IR for tonight.
“I assessed him yesterday. He’ll be fine,” Mitchell dismisses.
“That may be so, but is it a risk we’re willing to take at this point in the season?”
