Page 51 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
The meeting finally ended, and I was gathering my things when Dennis appeared, slinging an arm around my shoulders.
“Heard the news, you lucky bastard. Two weeks! We need to celebrate!”
“Not really in a celebrating mood,” I muttered.
Dennis stepped back, examining me like I’d grown a second head. “Who are you and what have you done with Stone Callahan? This is what you’ve been killing yourself for.”
“I know.”
“Look, you’re overthinking something. I can see it in that broody expression.” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the exit. “Team night out. Right now. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“I have a PhD in getting your head out of your ass. Let’s go.”
Thirty minutes later, we were at Lockhart’s with half the team. The bar was noisy enough that conversation required leaning in, but not so packed that we were constantly interrupted. I nursed a club soda while most of the guys were several beers deep.
“So what’s with the face?” Dennis asked, sliding into the booth across from me. “You should be fucking ecstatic about coming back.”
I set my glass down carefully. “What happens when I start traveling again?”
“You...play hockey? The thing you’ve been working your ass off to get back to?”
“With Kate,” I clarified, hating how vulnerable the question made me feel. “We’ve barely figured out whatever this is between us, and now I’ll be gone half the time.”
Dennis’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. You’re actually serious about her.”
Before I could respond, a group of women approached our table, led by a statuesque blonde whose eyes had locked onto me like a heat-seeking missile.
“You’re Austin Callahan, right?” Her voice was practiced, confident. “I’m a huge fan. I’d love to buy you a drink.”
Dennis’s face lit up like he’d just scored in overtime. “Well hello there,” he said to the blonde, then shot me a look that screamed ‘opportunity knocking.’ “My friend here would love a drink. He’s celebrating his return to the ice.”
I shifted uncomfortably as the blonde—Amber, she introduced herself—slid into the booth beside me, her thigh pressing against mine with deliberate pressure. The scent of her perfume was overwhelming, cloyingly sweet compared to Kate’s subtle vanilla and clean lab smell I’d grown addicted to.
“I’ve followed your recovery,” Amber purred, her hand landing on my forearm. “Such a shame about your injury. But I always knew you’d make it back.”
“Thanks,” I replied, deliberately shifting away to create space between us. “It’s been a long process.”
Dennis was already deep in conversation with one of Amber’s friends, but I caught him watching me from the corner of his eye, clearly waiting to see what I’d do.
“So,” Amber continued, leaning closer, “I have an apartment just down the street. Maybe we could continue this conversation somewhere more...private? I’d love to hear all about your rehabilitation.”
I almost laughed. Rehabilitation wasn’t exactly standard dirtytalk, but I guess when you’re fishing for hockey players, you use whatever bait you can.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said, removing her hand from my arm as politely as possible. “But I’m seeing someone.”
The words hung in the air for a moment. Dennis’s head snapped toward me, his expression a comical mix of shock and amusement.
“Oh.” Amber’s smile faltered slightly. “She doesn’t have to know. I’m very discreet.”
“I’d know,” I said firmly. “And that’s not how I operate.”
After a few more awkward exchanges, Amber and her friends moved on to more receptive targets across the bar. Dennis immediately slid over, his face splitting into a shit-eating grin.
“Dude,” he said, drawing out the word. “You just turned down a solid nine who was practically offering to fuck you in the bathroom.”
“Your point?”
