He pulled me into him. “I’ll accept Sunday. You’ll wear my jersey?”
I planted him with a look. “We’ll see.”
Chapter 32
Nick
DECEMBER | TAROT: King of Swords
Miss Friends-with-Benefits, Miss We-Have-To-Be-Lowkey. Well, there was little Miss Wearing-My-Jersey-At-My-Request.
She waved down to me from the top of the lower bowl, where she stood with Jessie and Kitty. She mouthed a “good luck.” I thenwent about the business of ignoring her, all the while enjoying the surge of hormones from Annabelle Markham doing what I asked.
Or well, I successfully ignored her until I went to the side to stretch. Then I had to look again. She also made a show of waving at Romelski, also her client. She turned, tossing her hair over one shoulder to reveal the number on the back, gesturing to it with her thumbs for Romelski to see. He laughed next to me.
That little sneak. She wasn’t wearing my jersey at all.
“Aw, Annie wore the jersey I gave her!” he said. “She’s so cool. I liked Marcie too, but Annie’s the best.”
Little did he know that she was doing it to get under my skin. And it worked. I both loved and hated it. For being a golden child, she had the tiniest rebellious streak. I liked provoking it, and knowing that she flexed it just for me.
Rebellious Annie dry-humped me in an ice rink locker room. Rebellious Annie did naughty stuff with me where we shouldn’t. Rebellious Annie was wild and free. But the things that made her wild made the balance of her controlled exterior so much more intriguing.
Annie Markham always had it together. Annie Markham was one person who contained multitudes. She could on one hand negotiate the hell out of a business deal, and on the other walk around my kitchen with nothing but the breeze touching her perfect ass.
So anyway, I had to focus.
The game against Minnesota had me on my toes. I let one get past me in the first, something I try not to do. I did everything I could to not try to find Annie at every TV timeout, focusing on the streams of water I sprayed down my back. Oh, showering with Annie would have to be added to my education list.
Focus.
We were up 3 to 2 in the third, and the boys kinda came apart. Some of them, like Mikey, were getting agitated. Oneof Minnesota’s players kept trying to mess with me, so Mikey picked a fight with him. That resulted in him going to the box and Minnesota getting a power play. So naturally, they scored with three minutes remaining, tying the score.
We went scoreless in overtime, so that put us on to a shootout. My time to shine, with my sassy angel girl watching.
To my delight, the brat who kept trying to fight me was up first. It’s not often that I care enough to do something vengeful, but this day was different. I was fired up by Annie and annoyed with this particular winger.
So instead of focusing on blocking the shot, I focused on tripping his ass with my stick. Fortunately, I was successful, both at blocking his piddly-ass shot and at sending him sailing into the boards. I couldn’t help but grin when I stood with the puck in my glove.
“Oops,” I said as he peeled himself off the ice and skated away.
He turned back instantly, throwing off his gloves before the ref held him back. Like a child, I stuck my tongue out at him. Then to add insult to injury, Sorrento netted one on them with no effort.
Minnesota’s best vet got one past me, doing the wait-till-the-last-second trick that I should have seen coming. Then Stelle sank another for us.
Minnesota sent out one of their young hot shots for their final chance, but I was easily able to swipe it away from him with my stick.
Shutouts are great, but winning a shootout also feels pretty damn good.
I expected to walk out to an exuberant Annie. Not that she could touch me or give anything away, but I had this flash fantasy of sending her saucy texts while we were in the same room celebrating.
My high was quickly thwarted.
After the game, Jessie and Kitty waited for their men, butAnnie wasn’t there. I almost asked Kitty where Annie went, but stopped myself. Instead, I went into Broody Nick mode as we went to get some food after the game.
“Obi, you’re grumpypants,” Jessie teased me as I overheard Kitty say to Stelle, “Annie sends her regrets. She came to the game but said she’s behind on laundry.”
I grunted at Jessie.
