Page 119 of Almost Ours
I grinned, leaning in slightly. “In that case, how about you meet Shane and me at the pub later? Drinks on me.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she smirked. “Sounds like a plan, Coach.”
“Good,” I said, brushing a quick kiss against her temple before anyone could see. “See you later, then.”
The pub waswarm and lively, a stark contrast to the chill February air outside. Shane and I had claimed a split booth near the back, nursing our drinks and picking at a basket of fries. The hum of conversation and laughter filled the space, mingling with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from a group huddled around a TV, watching the tail end of a hockey game. Strings of dim lights were looped along the rustic wooden beams, casting a cozy glow over the room.
“I’m just saying,” Shane started, gesturing with his beer bottle for emphasis. “If you’d put Connor on the right wing in the second period, we might not have needed that miracle pass in the third.”
“Connor can handle himself wherever he’s placed,” I shot back, my voice light but firm. “But thanks for the coaching tips. I’ll be sure to put them in the suggestion box.”
Shane chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m just trying to make you look good, Barzal. That’s all.”
Before I could reply, the pub door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and a ripple of laughter from outside. Instinctively, my gaze flicked toward the entrance–and my grip on my beer tightened.
Harper and Nina stepped inside, bringing a different kind of energy with them. Harper had swapped her hockey-game casuals for a loose sweater that looked impossibly soft and dark jeans that hugged her in a way that made it damn near impossible to look anywhere else. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, catching the light just enough to make my breath hitch. Nina, ever the contrast, walked beside her with her coat draped over her arm, her sharp gaze sweeping the room like she was assessing threats–or potential victims.
I lifted a hand to wave them over, and Harper’s smile in return sent warmth surging through me despite the cold beer in my hand. She nudged Nina forward, and together, they wove through the crowd toward us.
As they got closer, I couldn’t help but stand, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep myself from pulling Harper into me right then and there.
“Ladies,” I greeted, my tone light, my gaze locked on Harper.
“Coaches,” she teased, her voice low enough that only I could hear.
Before I could respond, Nina brushed past her and dropped into the booth across from Shane. “You two aren’t nearly as subtle as you think,” she said, stealing one of his fries without breaking eye contact. “It’s almost… cute. In a nauseating kind of way.”
Harper shot her a look. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” she said, laughing.
Shane snorted. “Careful, Harp. She’ll unleash that terrifying glare she’s famous for.
“Terrifying?” Nina arched an eyebrow, leveling him with a pointed look. “I’ll show you terrifying.”
While their back and forth kept going, Harper glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, the faintest curve to her mouth. I let my knee bump hers under the table–small, quick, gone before anyone could call it out. Her smile deepened, just enough to make my chest feel too tight, and I had to look away before I gave the whole game away.
The waitress approached with menus, offering a friendly smile. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?”
Harper glanced up. “Red wine, please.”
“Whiskey sour,” Nina added, not missing a beat.
The waitress nodded, then turned to me and Shane. I barely registered what he ordered, my focus still on Harper, who was watching me like she knew exactly what she was doing.
The conversation flowed easily as Harper and Shane recapped some of the more ridiculous moments of the game–Shane, of course, couldn’t resist tossing in a jab at my coaching strategy, while Harper defended Connor like a proud mom.
“And what about when Connor threw that cross-ice pass in the third?” Harper leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I mean, he’s only ten, but he nailed it like he’s been playing for twenty years.”
Shane raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, he’d be even better if his coach let him play right wing more often.”
I groaned. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Nina rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat. “I don’t know what’s worse–Shane thinking he’s always right or Ryan pretending to humour him.”
Harper laughed, her voice warm and genuine. “I think it’s a tie.”
The waitress returned with their drinks, and we all grabbed the menus, debating appetizers. Just as I was about to make my case for wings, the coach from the arena, Matt, came sauntering over.
