Page 40 of Blocked Shot
Jake sets his glass down a little too carefully, flicking his eyes to Natalie, then quickly away.
Is he blushing?
He rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat. “Not much to tell, honestly. It was a game against the Blackhawks, I was with the Pens at the time. Manson and I hated each other’s guts and were scraping andchirping all game. Third period, things boiled over. We danced and he eye-gouged me.”
“No!” Jesse looks personally offended. “You don’t go for the eyes, man.”
Carter nods solemnly at Mila and Natalie. “Eyes and nuts. Untouchable. That’s the code.”
Jake shrugs, the corners of his mouth turning up. “Anyway, his thumb ended up near my mouth and… instinct kicked in. I wasn’t letting go until he let go. There was blood. A lot of it. I heard the bastard had to get a tetanus shot.”
“Legend,” Jesse declares.
“Manson totally deserved it,” Tristan adds.
“Absolutely.”
Jake turns to Mila, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “But to answer your question—no, I didn’t bite his fingeroff. He’s still got all ten. Unfortunately.”
Natalie feels a flutter low in her belly. Listening to him talk about his rough on-ice persona—it sends her mind somewhere else. Back to last night. The way he lifted her like she weighed nothing, the way he pinned her against the door with that same heat in his eyes.
Stop it, Nat. It can’t happen.
“Jakey,” Mila gasps, eyes wide with mock drama. “I don’t know if I’m turned on or absolutely terrified.”
“Why not both?” Tristan throws in, waggling his eyebrows.
Natalie catches Mila stifling a laugh and turning away, but her shoulders are shaking.
“Alright, boys. Enough shop talk,” Mila says recovering, spearing a piece of turkey with her fork. She looks around the table, an impish smile playing across her lips. “Who has a New Year’s resolution?”
“Unnecessary,” says Tristan, lifting his fork with a dismissive wave.
“Oh, so you’re perfect, bro?” Jesse says.
Tristan shrugs, clearly pleased with himself. “Peak physical form, elite metabolism, flawless jawline. What else is there?”
Jake rolls his eyes so hard it’s practically audible.
Tristan smirks. “Fine. For the sake of holiday spirit, my resolution is to start learning the names of my hookups.”
Mila freezes, then makes a face. “Ew.”
“What? They like being called ‘babe.’ It’s inclusive. Efficient. A gift, really.”
“Double ew,” she says, shaking her head.
“Triple ew,” Carter chimes in, mock-shuddering. He lifts his glass. “Anyway. My resolution is to stop yelling at referees. Or at least tostartwith ‘sir’ before I insult their eyesight.”
“That’s growth,” Jesse says. “Proud of you, buddy.”
“Thank you. Therapy who?”
The conversation rolls easily, everyone relaxed and full, plates picked at while dessert looms. Mila scans the table, eyes glinting, clearly on the hunt for her next target.
“Theo, right?” she says, her voice softening slightly. “What about you?”
“Eh?” Theo’s spine straightens like someone’s pulled a wire through him. He looks at Mila, startled to have her attention.
