You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey)

by Kelly Jamieson

  “Sort of.” She sighs. “Harper has a big list of pros and cons for each of them. She emailed it to me, and I looked at it, but it’s too much.” She grabs handfuls of her long hair and tugs.

  Somehow, I know her. “Which one do you want to work with?”

  She answers without hesitation.

  “Genuine People.”

  “Based on…?”

  She exhales sharply. “I like them. I like their clothes.”

  “That’s not really a strong business rationale.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut. “I know! Fuck, I can’t even make a good business decision. I just know what I like! I shouldn’t be allowed to run a business.”

  I stroke her back soothingly. “Going on instinct isn’t a bad way to go.”

  “But what if it’s wrong?” She turns agonized eyes on me. “What if I screw up?”

  “I don’t think any of these three choices would be a bad decision, do you?”

  She considers that. “No.” She purses her lips. “I like the fact that Genuine People focuses on sustainability and making their clothes locally. That’s important to me.”

  “There you go. That’s a good reason. So do what you want. Your instincts have gotten you a long way in what you do.”

  She blinks at me. Then her eyes clear and her mouth softens. “Thank you.”

  I shrug. “I don’t think I helped much.”

  “You helped…because you believe in me.”

  She’s right. “I do.” I smile back at her. “You’re smart and talented. You know what you’re doing, even when you think you don’t. You’re too hard on yourself.”

  Her bottom lip quivers. “Thank you. Geez, Josh.”

  “What?”

  “I just…” She meets my eyes, hers swimming with emotion. “I’m catching feelings for you.”

  “Oh.” It’s not the L-word, but it’s…“Me too.”

  Fuck.

  She sucks briefly on her bottom lip, still holding my gaze. Then she swallows. “It’s kind of scary.”

  I’m fucking scared too. This wasn’t what I planned. But, Christ, I’m more worried about her right now. “Don’t be scared.” I pull her head to my chest. I don’t know how to reassure her, because I’d like to know exactly what this is and where it’s going and how it’s going to end. But that’s impossible. And I guess that’s why I’m single. “We’re in it together,” I finally say vaguely, hugging her tighter.

  “Yeah.”

  We sit like that for a few minutes. Then I say, “I went to see Carter again last week.”

  “Right! How was that?”

  Her eyes fasten intently on mine and she listens as I talk.

  “It was…good. Hard. But he’s an amazing kid. Doesn’t feel sorry for himself at all. I had to get permission from his parents to visit him, and his mom was there, but she mostly stayed out of the conversation. I can’t imagine going through something like that, where your kid is so sick. Hopefully I did something to brighten up his life a bit, but I feel like I got more out of it than he did.” I pause. I don’t mention that Carter told me I need to listen more to Easton on the power play. I was a little defensive about that. He’s just a kid. What does he know? Except…he knows a lot.

  We make dinner in my kitchen, putting together bowl meals with all the ingredients I picked up—quinoa, sweet potatoes, red peppers, avocados. Sara pours a glass of rosé wine for herself, which she was surprised and delighted to find in my fridge, while I drink a beer. She mixes up the lemon-tahini dressing and I cut up the cooked chicken to add to the bowls.

  Then we spend a couple of hours playing Animal Crossing, before ending up in my bed.

  “Can you stay the night?” I ask much later, my lips against her temple as we curl up naked beneath the covers.

  “Yeah. I brought a few things.”

  I smile. “Perfect.”

  * * *

  —

  It’s another week before I see Sara again because of another road trip. Shit, last week I was in New York all week and she went away. Now she’s back and I’m leaving. This sucks.

  But the first game of our trip is in Dallas. Against my old teammates.

  This is always a moment. Any player wants to beat his old team. It’s not that I hold a grudge against any of the players; trades have nothing to do with them. Maybe it’s just wanting to show the team what they lost.

  I know these guys, and I know their moves. Some of them are friends. That doesn’t stop me from laying a heavy hit on Jonesy, or from shooting top shelf, glove side—their goalie’s weak spot—to score our second goal.

  There’s an emotional moment, though, during a TV time-out when they show a montage of clips of me playing in Dallas and thanking me for my contributions to the team, and the fans all give me a standing ovation. I choke up a little, waving from the bench and pressing my hand to my heart.

  We manage to squeak out a win, and it’s because Dallas takes a dumb penalty late in the third period and Bergie and I connect on the power play to get the puck into the net. I’m acutely aware, though, that earlier Millsy was right in front of the net, banging his stick, and I elected to pass to JBo. That could also have been a goal. Or not. But it gnaws at me through the rest of the game and after.

  I talk to the local media, who all know me from my time there, and I spend a few minutes chatting with Billy and Schultzy before they yell at me to get on the bus to go back to the hotel. We’re staying here tonight and flying to Denver tomorrow ahead of Thursday night’s game. I’m looking forward to a great sleep.

  After I talk to Sara, of course.

  The video I’m given to watch on the plane the next day has that moment where I don’t pass the puck to Millsy. Shit, he was wide open. I know Coach and Cal, our video coach, have included that clip for a reason.

  Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to him. I just have to find the right time. It’s hard on the road, with other guys around all the time.

  We lose in Denver and win in Glendale against the Coyotes. So not a bad road trip, but we’ve got three weeks left in the regular season and we still don’t have a playoff spot locked up. We need every point we can get. We’re helped by losses by the Capitals and Penguins. I study the math on the plane on the way home. If we win our next two games, we’ll have a wild card spot sewn up. If not…I look at various scenarios. Too much depends on what other teams do.

  We need to win.

  * * *

  —

  Sunday afternoon, I head over to Sara’s place. The weather is mild, spring flowers are blooming, so we’re going for a walk in Central Park.

  When she lets me into her place, though, she’s not even ready. I pull her in for a kiss and it’s listless and halfhearted. “What’s wrong?”

  She waves a hand. “Nothing. I’ll go get ready. Sorry. I got lost in Dr. Pimple Popper videos.”

  “Something’s wrong. What did I do?” I’m wracking my brain trying to figure out how I screwed up when I’ve been gone for a week. Was it something in one of my texts?

  “It’s not you.” She sighs and turns to face me from her bedroom door. “Some douchebag posted a hate video about me on YouTube.”

  “Fuck.” I cross straight to her and take hold of her upper arms. “Was it threatening?”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her lips drooping. “Just stupid. And mean.”

  “I’m sorry.” I pull her against me and press her face to my chest. “You have to ignore that shit.”

  “I know. But sometimes it’s not that easy.”

  I know this too. I’ve been there. I’ll never forget the time I screwed up in the playoffs for the Dallas farm team one year and the whole Internet dragged me for months.

  “I get it.”

  “Do you want to see it?”

  “No.” My answer is firm.<
br />
  She lifts her head and peers up at me. “I’ve been bummed all weekend because of it.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “Nah. You have bigger things to worry about when you’re on a road trip.”

  “You’re a pretty big thing to me,” I say softly. “I’m here for you whenever.”

  Her eyes fill with water. “Oh. Damn. Now you made me cry, jerk.”

  I choke out a laugh. “Sorry.”

  She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me. “Thank you.”

  “Want me to help you get dressed?”

  Her laugh is muffled in my sweater. “We’ll never get out of here if you do.”

  “Okay, I’ll just watch.” I pat her butt and follow her into her bedroom.

  The bed’s not made, so I pull the duvet up and arrange the pillows, then bounce onto the bed and stack my hands behind my head.

  She laughs and shakes her head as she pulls off her pajama top.

  I sigh happily at the sight of her beautiful bare breasts. I shift on the bed when she bends over to get something out of a drawer and shows off her tight little ass. And I adjust my cock when she pulls on a white lace bralette and matching thong.

  “A thong,” I say approvingly.

  She casts a smirk my way. “You think this is for you?”

  “It better be.”

  “Okay, yeah, it is.”

  She dresses in jeans and a gray hoodie that says The future is female. She’s probably right about that.

  Soon we’re out of her building and on our way to the park, zigzagging through the streets until we get to the entrance on Fifth Avenue.

  “There something so magical about this park,” Sara says. “More so in the summer, I think, when the trees are green. The light is different…I don’t know. Maybe I’m crazy.”

  “It’s nice,” I say, very unpoetically.

  We walk and walk, talking but also having times of silence. We pause at the Carousel to admire the carved horses. We get ice cream and sit on a bench to eat it, then admire the crocuses sprouting up in the still-sparse grass.

  “Have you ever done anything illegal?” she asks me.

  “Jesus. Why are you asking me that?”

  “I’m getting to know you.”

  “Of course I have.”

  Her eyes grow larger. “Like what?”

  “I drank underage.”

  “Oh. Well.” She waves a hand. “Everyone does that.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. What else?”

  “I’ve had a few speeding tickets.”

  She pouts her lips. “Hmmm. I like driving fast too.”

  “We should go for a drive sometime. Now I have my car.”

  “Okay. Any other illegal acts?”

  “Well. Once my car got towed because I was in a no-parking zone. And my buddy”—I pause because it was Easton—“helped me break into the impound lot and steal it back. Saved me a couple hundred bucks that I didn’t have.”

  She’s trying not to smile. “You stole your own car.”

  “Yep. The best part was when they sent me a letter a couple months later saying they were going to sell it for parts if I didn’t come get it.”

  She giggles. “Okay, what’s something you think should be a law that isn’t?”

  I think about that. “Oral sex should always be reciprocated.”

  She chokes. “Sex laws!”

  “You know there are lots of them. They just aren’t written down.”

  “Is this part of my sex education?”

  I forgot she isn’t very experienced when it comes to sex. She’s so into it, so eager to try pretty much anything. “Okay, sure. Condoms. When you’re getting a blow job, let her know when you’re coming. Don’t get it in her hair. And never venture to brown town without discussing it first.”

  “Oh my God!” She bends over, laughing. “I can’t believe you just said that.” After she collects herself, she says, “But all those rules are for guys.”

  “Well…the back-door rule applies to both.”

  Her eyes widen. “Oh. Right.” She eyes me with an assessing look in her eyes. “Does that mean you’re into that?”

  “There’s not much I’m not into,” I admit.

  “Oooh. I think we need some toys.”

  “I have toys.”

  “You’ve been holding out on me!”

  “Just waiting for the right time.”

  We grin at each other, and the park fades away, and it’s just us on the bench in a bubble of awareness. I cup her cheek and lean in for a soft kiss. Her lips meet mine and cling. Fuck. This is…irresistible. Captivating. Magical. Uh…my poetic vocabulary is sadly lacking.

  With my nose touching hers, I murmur, “Roses are red, violets are blue. How did I get so lucky with you?”

  Her lips curve upward. “I feel pretty lucky too.”

  Chapter 24

  Sara

  My decision to partner with Genuine People annoyed Harper. She was really pushing for Tryst because of their more high-end reputation, and I’ve been second-guessing my choice ever since. But Josh has been super supportive, and he made me feel better after I saw that stupid video, and that means so much to me.

  I want to support him too.

  Lilly and I have been texting and talking about Josh and Easton and the stupid, stubborn guys don’t seem to be making any progress in the communication department. I’ve brought it up a couple of times with Josh—what his coach said about communicating better with the power play unit—and he’s been evasive. Now I’m debating being blunt and just asking outright. Usually, this isn’t a debate for me; maybe I’m learning to think before I speak. I don’t know if it will help or hurt things in this case. Maybe it’s better to force the issue between him and Easton?

  Saturday night is the evening at the Fine Fox that Lilly, Layla, and I have planned. So Lilly and I decide to stage an intervention. A subtle intervention.

  Josh and I spent the afternoon together, so we take a taxi to the West Village from my place. We get there a little early so Lilly and Layla and I can talk to the staff there and make sure there are no problems with our reservations since it’s a pretty big group.

  We leave Easton, Colton, and Josh standing with beers in hand as we finalize arrangements. Lilly and I exchange glances. Somehow we have to get Easton and Josh alone. I’m eager to get this done and get things out in the open and resolved between them. I think it will help Josh. I think it’s been bothering him way down deep inside, even though he said it doesn’t matter anymore. It does matter, to him personally, but also to the team.

  Others start arriving. I’m getting to know the guys, although it’s confusing with their nicknames. Josh and Easton didn’t call Colton by that name, they call him Gunner. Cookie is actually Owen, and Russ is actually Evan, and JBo is actually Jay. When Nadia and Igor walk in (the guys call Igor Barbie, which is hilarious) they both raise their arms and whoop, and a responding cheer arises from everyone else there. They’re obviously popular with the team.

  We’ve ordered food that we can all share to be set out on tables. Everyone is mingling and laughing, and we’ve organized teams for games of ping-pong, billiards, and shuffleboard. The guys are all trash-talking one another.

  At the pool table, Cookie is laughing at Easton. “I can’t believe you just played defense.”

  “I meant to do that,” Easton says with a grin.

  Owen takes his shot and Easton groans. “Luck.”

  “That wasn’t luck.”

  “Sure it was. The sun even shines on a dog’s ass sometimes.”

  I crack up. Josh is grinning too from the table beside them. He takes his shot, then pumps a fist in the air. “Yes!”

  Igor shakes his head and lines up his shot. />
  “Put it wherever you want,” Josh says.

  “That’s what she said.” Igor takes his shot.

  I’m laughing helplessly.

  “I’ll teach you that shot later,” Igor says, moving around the table to assess his next move.

  “Fuck off,” Josh replies.

  When Igor has beaten Josh, Josh slings his arm around Igor’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to crush your confidence, so I let you win that one.”

  Igor hoots.

  This is going really well. Everyone is relaxed and having fun.

  Nate and Jay play next. They rack the balls and Nate shoots…and clips the corner of one ball.

  “Next time take off your purse when you break,” Nate says, lifting his cue.

  “That’s sexist.” Jay shakes his head. “Are you saying women can’t play pool as well as men?”

  “Oooooh,” Lilly and I say at the same time. “Careful, Nate.”

  He grins and scatters the balls across the table.

  “How are we going to do this?” Lilly mutters beside me.

  “I don’t know.” I gaze around, spying Josh watching a shuffleboard game. As if he knows I’m looking at him, he turns his head and meets my eyes. He smiles and lifts his beer.

  I smile back.

  “Easton’s over there.” Lilly points to the long bar against one wall, where Easton appears to be waiting for a drink and looking at his phone. “Can you get Josh there?”

  “I’ll try.” Still holding Josh’s gaze, I beckon him as Lilly moves off toward Easton.

  Josh starts toward me, weaving among tables.

  “I need another drink,” I tell him as he nears me. “Come on.” I take his hand and tug him toward the bar.

  He comes willingly and when I stop next to Easton and Lilly, he’s still smiling. We’re all at the far end of the bar, away from the rest of the gang.

  “Okay,” I say. I pause and take a deep breath. “Josh and Easton…you two need to talk.”

  Josh frowns. “What?”

  “You never told me that Easton was a Warrior,” I say quietly. Well, as quietly as you can in a noisy bar. “Why not?”

  He stares at me.