Page 14 of Must Love Hockey
Luckily, Emily is waiting for me at a table against the back wall, far away from the Bruisers. And, wow, my memory didn't lie. She's super pretty, with flashing dark eyes and a quick smile.
“Hey there,” I say, leaning down to give her a friendly peck on the cheek. I'm Italian. We do that. Although maybe it was a mistake, because she smells like flowers, and my body tightens at the nearness of her. I step back and take in her clear skin and healthy glow. “You look great.”
“James,” she says with a smile. “Are you implying that I didn't look great at three a.m. after breaking out in full-body hives?”
“Nobody implied that,” I say with a chuckle. “It's just that not-on-death's-doorstep is also a good look on you.” I pull out my chair and have a seat. Out of my peripheral vision, I see a hockey player stand up to peek in my direction. At least they’re too far away to throw things at me. “Should we start with a cocktail? I ask. “Sounds like you've had quite the week.”
“Of course. Do you need the drink menu?” She passes it to me.
“Nope, I'm good,” I say as Nancy Elizabeth approaches.
“Hi kids, can I get you two a cocktail to start?”
“What's good?” Emily asks, scanning the wine list.
“I’m always in the mood for prosecco,” Nancy Elizabeth says. “But if you're looking for a red, I like the chianti. It's full bodied without being too tannic. And if you're looking for a great date, I recommend Jimbo. He's also full bodied, has nice manners, and is a great tipper.”
Emily blinks in confusion.
But I know exactly what’s happening, and I just want to sink down into the floor. “Nancy Elizabeth,” I say stiffly. “Whatever they're paying you to prank me, I'll double it if you stop.”
“What fun would that be?” she asks with a sniff.
“I’ll have the chianti,” Emily says. “Thanks for the recommendation.”
“And I'll have the—”
“Oh, I know what to bring you,” the waitress mutters. “You always get the same thing.”
“You don’t know that!” I call as she starts to walk away. “I just might surprise you.”
Emily follows the waitress with her intelligent, dark eyes. “You come here a lot?”
“Too much, apparently. And so do those chuckleheads.” I jerk my thumb in the direction of the players. Just as Emily turns to look, they all drop into their seats again, like prairie dogs avoiding a coyote.
Fuckers.
“So how was your week?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
“Dreadful,” she says with a little smile. “It’s not every week you learn that a tick gave you an allergy. But what about you? Were you dead on your feet the next day?”
I totally was. “Oh, it was fine,” I lie. “We slept on the jet.”
And it’s true—I did sleep. I slept so well that when I woke up, I was duct-taped to my seat, which is a favorite Bruisers prank. But I leave that detail out.
I got even the next night, anyway. After the game, Castro, Trevi, and Baby Bayer emerged from the shower to find only hot-pink briefs in their lockers. I'd been saving those up for a special occasion.
And—this made my revenge even sweeter—a reporter who was in the locker room for interviews made a crack about them. Leo Trevi is pretty quick on his feet, so he said they were wearing them for breast cancer awareness.
But I still feel like I got the edge on them. It’s not even Breast Cancer Awareness month.
Emily is eyeing the menu. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but this week I've been terrified to eat—even things that I know don't have red meat in them. I keep thinking about how my throat started itching, and it's turned me off of food.”
"Oh, hell. I'm sorry. Are you getting enough to eat?”
“I’ll be fine. But if it's okay with you, I'd prefer not to get meat on the pizza. Or we could get separate ones.”
“Who needs meat? The white pizza with garlic is amazing. Let's get a salad with chicken on it, too, so that you can get some protein.”
