Page 6 of Hard Hitter
“Flowers?” Leo asked, giving her a squeeze. “How could those be a big decision?”
“Right?” Georgia laughed. “Don’t worry your pretty head over it. You just focus on hockey and stay in your happy place.”
“Did I mention how much I love this woman?” Leo grinned like he’d won the lottery. “She doesn’t care that I don’t care about flowers! Am I winning at life, or what?” He high-fived Hartley.
“You are, honey,” Georgia said. “Carry on with your important discussion about hiding each other’s jock straps or whatever. Ari and I have got this.”
Ari laughed, and O’Doul liked the sound so much that he didn’t even mind that she’d changed the subject on him.
Across the table, Trevi asked his pal Hartley, “How’s Callihan? When is she going to move to Boston and marry you?”
Hartley chuckled. “What are you, a marriage evangelist, now?”
“Born again,” Trevi agreed.
“I’ve played on three teams in three years,” Hartley said. “I can’t wait to shack up with Callihan, but we’re waiting until it looks like I might be able to stay put somewhere for more than a season. She’s got a great job in Chicago, too. Another year there will only make it easier for her to find a job in Boston or wherever.”
“Uh-huh. Sounds like stalling.”
His friend pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s sober-dial her.”
“What is that?” Georgia asked.
“We can’t drunk-dial her because we’re not drunk,” Hartley explained. “Obvs.”
“Obvs,” Trevi repeated. Then, while his friend tried to raise his girlfriend on FaceTime, Trevi hugged the guy hard and gave him a noogie. “I miss the hell out of you!”
If anybody did that to O’Doul he’d probably chuck them across the room.
“Hello?” a voice came from the phone’s little speakers. “Omigod! Look who it is! Trevi—I want to meet your girlfriend!”
The three of them put their smiling faces together in front of the phone, like a goddamn pack of puppies. He took a gulp of his Scotch, feeling like the Grinch. His hip gave a throb, and he set the mostly empty glass on the table. “I think it’s time to turn in,” he said to Ari.
“You take care of yourself,” she said, her dark eyes sparkling. “Good work tonight.”
The compliment made a warm spot right in his chest. Or maybe it was the whiskey. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”
She gave him a soft smile, and he carried the memory of it all the way upstairs.
TWO
THURSDAY, MARCH 10TH
Standings: 3rd place in the Metropolitan Division
17 Regular Season Games to Go
It was four more days until Ari got O’Doul onto her therapy schedule.
At first he’d agreed to see her at the rink in Toronto during the pregame warm-ups. But then “something came up,” and he rescheduled.Again.
Now the team was back home in Brooklyn. Ari waited for him in her treatment room at the practice facility. She was perched on the countertop, wondering if he’d show. He was five minutes late already.
A girl could start to take this personally. She’d held this job for almost two years without ever seeing the captain on her massage table.
Before now she’d chalked up his absence to his exceptionally good health and flexibility. The wrist injury he’d had earlier in the season was not the kind of thing that sent a man off to the massage room, either. But now that he was in such obvious need of her help, it was odd that he wouldn’tseek it. Many of the other players would book a massagetwicea day if her schedule allowed it.
Not O’Doul.
