Page 59 of Slapshot
I’m the last one in the locker room when practice is done. I come up short when I find the guys gathered around my dad, staring and hanging on his every word. He looks up and smiles at me.
“Excuse me, guys. Nice practice. I look forward to watching you crush Maine tomorrow.” He walks toward me and I’m well aware that every pair of eyes is on us—or him, anyway.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
I want to roll my eyes at the endearment he continues to use despite the fact that I haven’t been sweet since middle school. “Hey. I should probably meet you at the restaurant. I’m going to be a little while.”
He guides me with a hand at my lower back to the side of the room and the guys finally fall into conversation so it’s not so quiet you can hear every word we say. “Look at you. I never thought I’d see you doing anything hockey-related ever again.”
“Yeah, well, someone cut me off and I’m not qualified for much else.”
He laughs. An easy, carefree laugh. “Listen, I’m spent. Can we do dinner tomorrow night after the game?”
“Of course,” I say quickly. Am I really surprised he’s flaking? I hate that I am. I shouldn’t be. “I have a lot to do here anyway.”
“Great. I’m going to have Coach invite the guys too. I’d like to get to know some of these kids since you’re spending so much time with them. I’ll call you in the morning and you can take me around, show me the campus, your dorm, whatever you want.” He drops a kiss to my temple. I’m flooded with the familiar scent of his cologne and hair gel.
Before he can get out of the locker room, some of the guys thrust paper or sticks, jerseys—anything they can find, in front of him to get signed. Dad does it all with a thankful smile. He’s good with his fans, always has been. I just wish those fans weren’t my friends.
I busy myself with the laundry until the locker room is empty sans one hockey player that appears in the doorway freshly showered and dressed.
“What time do you think you’ll be done with dinner tonight? In case a guy wanted to sneak into his girl’s dorm room at an indecent hour and do indecent things.” His arms wrap around my waist and he kisses my neck.
“Much sooner than you think. My dad pushed dinner to tomorrow night and is inviting the entire team.”
“I’m sorry.” His hard expression validates my disappointment.
“It’s fine. I have a lot to finish up here anyway.” I do not want his pity or even to admit that I’m hurt.
“Come out with us instead. We’re going to the Biscuit for wings and beer.”
“I’m not really in the mood to hear the guys go on and on about how awesome it was to meet him.”
I feel him nod and then he pushes my hair away from my neck, giving him better access. He drops a tender kiss to my skin. “Okay, well, come home with me then. We’ll skip dinner and I’ll make you forget everything. Including your name.”
“Tempting.” A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “I think I’m going to finish up here and then go back to the dorm and crash. I’m not really in the mood to go out. But you should go have fun with the boys. Please? For me? You deserve it. Go celebrate. You had an amazing practice tonight and I think you’re really starting to mesh with the team.”
He comes around in front of me, picks me up, and sets me on top of the washing machine. “I’d rather celebrate andmeshwith you.”
Then he steps between my legs and kisses me hard. Temporarily I forget about everything but how good it feels to let him chase away the hurt. Lex is good at that. He’s a reminder that someone does want me, sees my worth, thinks I’m worth blowing off the rest of the world for.
And I desperately want to believe his view of me isn’t seriously misguided.
* * *
The following night, I’m prepping the locker room when Lex comes in from the ice with Paxton.
“Hey.” He drops onto the bench as Pax heads toward the showers. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you all day.”
“Yes,” I say, even though my hands tremble. “Sorry, in between classes, I spent the day with my dad.”
“That’s great.”
“He’s coming tonight and then we have dinner with everyone.”
He wipes his forehead with a towel. “Do you want to go together? I’m a good buffer.”
“I’ll be okay. Thank you though.”
