By the third period, neither of them would shut up. Emma argued against his suggested strategy while the Flames were on the power play, and Tyler mocked her praise of almost every player she mentioned.
Lazy on defence. Too predictable. Selfish.
Emma pretended to swoon. “If only Tyler Bowen were on the ice, he’d be our hero!”
Tyler threw up his hands. “I don’t know how it took you that long to figure it out.”
It was still tied one to one in the middle of the third, and the energy in the arena was palpable. The instructions on the Jumbotron turned full propaganda, whipping the fans up into a frenzy.
Then, with two minutes left in regulation, the Flames' defence intercepted a hasty pass from the Canucks near the blue line, initiating their counter-attack. Giordano, the Flames' veteran defenseman, took control of the puck. Spotting Lindholm on his right, he fired off a crisp pass, avoiding a charging Canuck. Lindholm deftly received, pausing just a fraction of a second to pull a Canuck defender toward him before relaying the puck to Gaudreau on the left wing.
Gaudreau danced past a defender with a series of swift dekes, drawing another opponent toward him. As the Canucks' defence began to close in around the threat, Gaudreau dropped the puck back to Monahan, who’d patiently hung back.
Monahan didn’t hesitate. With the Canucks' defence off-balance and the goalie anticipating a direct shot from Gaudreau, the netminder was slightly out of position. Seizing this brief window, Monahan snapped the puck upwards.
The biscuit soared and the Canucks' goalie lunged desperately, his glove hand reaching out a fraction too late. The red goal light illuminated as the puck brushed the underside of the crossbar and nestled into the top right corner of the net. A perfect top-shelf goal.
Fire burst from flame throwers at both ends of the rink, sending a wave of heat over the rabid crowd. Emma cheered until her voice was raw, then flowed with the crowd after a satisfying Flames win.
“Ugh. If only all centres could play like Monahan,” Emma crooned, pulling on her coat.
Tyler pursed his lips. “You know I’m searching up food stylists tonight so I can show you how flawless their work is.”
“Well, we all know how much you love searching the internet.”
The cool air calmed the flush on her cheeks as they made their way to the car waiting for them at the curb. Tyler opened the side door for Emma with over-the-top gallantry, and she slid into the leather seat, laughing as Tyler walked to the other side.
"Did you see the look on that player’s face on the bench when number six missed that goal?" Emma clutched her stomach as he sat and closed the door, her muscles aching.
Tyler wiped at his eyes. “That shit is ending up on Hockey Night in Canada guaranteed.”
The car moved forward, and Emma reclined her seat and played with the buttons until she found the one that opened the skylight. “Okay, if you could only eat one type of candy for the rest of your life, what would it be?"
Tyler pretended to ponder the question seriously. "Are we talking chocolate or—?”
Emma shook her head. “Candy, candy.”
“That’s unnecessarily restrictive, but I'd have to go with Twizzlers."
Emma grimaced. “What? Please tell me you’re not talking about the black licorice ones.” Tyler shook his head, and she groaned. “No, ugh! Those are like wax with a little flavouring mixed in.”
Tyler held up a hand. “That from the girl who was eating Wine Gums the other day?”
Her jaw dropped. “I ate those in secret.”
Tyler asked her what else she ate in secret, but Emma refused to answer, instead asking him what he missed about Toronto. She laid her cheek on the seat and turned to her side, watching him as he talked. The way his hair fell over his ears, mussed and perfect. The way his lips curled, like he was always seconds away from finding something funny.Those damn crinkles around his eyes.
Tyler finished and turned toward her, then frowned as he looked past her shoulder.
“What is it?” She sat up and glanced out the window. It was dark. How long had they been in the car? She glanced at the clock. Twenty-five minutes had passed since they left the arena. Even with terrible traffic, they would’ve made it to her apartment by then.
Emma leaned forward and rapped her knuckles on the glass. The partition lowered. “Hey, I think you might’ve taken a wrong turn . . .” She trailed off as a green sign listing the distance to Canmore and Banff popped up on the side of the road.
The driver shook his head. “No wrong turn. This is a gift from Troy. I thought he told you.”
Emma whirled to Tyler, but his eyes were as wide as hers. A pit of dread settled in her stomach. “What kind of gift?”
“Rooftop suite. At the Canmore Cascade.”
