Page 52 of Slapshot
She skates left and passes it to Pat. Pax strips it from his brother and shoots it up to me. I’m in total show-off mode as I dribble the puck side to side and then front to back. I send the puck through her legs to Pax who makes an easy shot into an open net.
Her eyes narrow in annoyed defeat. I grab her by the waist and kiss that glare away.
She pushes at my chest. “Again. I want another chance. And no taking it easy on me.”
“You need a helmet, young lady,” I tell her. “And some pads.”
“Let’s do a shootout,” Pax says. “Lex versus Kaitlyn. Best of five from the blue line.”
“Done,” she says quickly.
“You agreed to that awfully fast.”
Pax snorts. “She’s seen you play.”
“Ladies first, then.”
We move out of her way and Kaitlyn skates with the puck to the blue line. She takes her time, staring ahead at the goal with a sexy look of intense determination. Her first attempt goes wide to the left. She readjusts her grip, and I can see the deep breath she takes with the lift and fall of her shoulders.
On the exhale, she shoots, and this time it sails beautifully down the center of the ice and into the goal. She raises her arms overhead with the stick still in her hand. I’ve never seen her look so happy.
And I realize she doesn’t hate hockey. Not one bit. She loves it. She loves it so much she hated it to protect herself. If hockey weren’t part of my life anymore, I’d probably pretend to hate it too.
It’s the same way she pretends to not care about her crappy relationship with her dad. She absolutely cares. So much that the only way she can get through the day is to block it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.
* * *
“Where are we going?” she asks as I help her into Tate’s beat-up truck.
“I’m taking you to dinner.”
“You don’t need to do that, Lex. Neither of us has cash to blow.”
“I’m a poor college kid, but I’m not destitute, and I want to take my girl to dinner.”
Through a small laugh, she relents. “Fine, but I’ve got dessert.”
“You are dessert, baby doll.”
I start up the truck and take us to downtown Burlington, then around some of the outskirts. The radio is on and she sits close enough that I can rest my right hand on her thigh. Her tight leggings are this velvety material that I can’t stop touching.
“Uhh, Lex, are we going in circles?” she asks as we get back to the downtown area.
Chuckling softly, I grin at her. “We’re almost there.”
When I pull up back in front of the hockey house, she shoots me a confused look. “I don’t understand.”
I shut off the engine and get out, round the truck, and open her door. “I made you dinner.”
“You cook?” Her blue eyes widen with disbelief.
I help her down and we walk toward the house. “Not many things, but I make a mean Italian feast.”
The spaghetti sauce is simmering on the stove and the rest of the ingredients are laid out on the countertop.
“Have a seat, my lady,” I tell her as I push up my sleeves.
“You’re too much. Why did we drive around for an hour?”
