Dom gives her that polite, quiet nod of his. He keeps his brown hair military short, his movements clipped and precise.
On the ice, he’s fast as hell, slick and sneaky. It’s one of the reasons the fans love him.
I’m not into guys, but yeah, I can admit he’s good-looking.
He winks at the waitress, and she blushes before walking off, which pretty much proves my point.
Me? Not so much these days. Two fading black eyes, a busted nose—real heartthrob material.
The first few minutes at the table feel awkward to me. The Russians chat jovially about last night’s game, seemingly aware that I’m not firing on all cylinders yet.
When the coffee comes, I hold the cup with both hands, inhaling the aroma before gulping down half of it.
“Rough night?” Dominic chuckles. “Mybabushkaused to say the only cure for vodka is more vodka. You need vodka?”
He pulls a flask from his sweater and wiggles his eyebrows. My eyes go wide. The man’s serious.
He takes a swig, still grinning, and I glance at Nik.
Nik sighs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Jesus Christ, Dominic.”
“I’m...good...thanks,” I say. “It wasn’t that kind of night.”
“Too bad for you,” Dom says. “Or, maybe good. Last time you got pissed, you ended up in a hospital.”
“True,” I concede. “I suppose I should learn my lesson.”
“Which is?” Dom asks.
“Never let Conner talk me into going out to the bars.”
Dom chuckles again as Nik mutters, “Kakoy mudak.” It does not sound like a compliment, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
I nod at Nik’s wedding band, trying to change the subject. “Congrats, man. I guess I didn’t realize you were dating someone, let alone serious enough to get married.”
“What, you’re not a tenacious gossip like some of our teammates?” Nik asks, a sly grin on his face.
“I mean, I think you know I keep to myself,” I say.
“Indeed,” Nik says. He puts both elbows on the table, steepling his hands and bumping his fingertips against his chin. “Why is that?”
I feel my brows furrow. “I’m just...I’ve never been a talkative person. I’m not, you know...I don’t totally isolate myself.”
“It’s not an attack,” Nik says. “You strike me as a bit shy, pretty quiet, but solid. You work hard. You mind your own business. I guess I just wondered if it was a character thing or a situational thing.”
“The former. I think,” I say. “The...situation probably makes it worse, though.”
“Who’s giving you trouble?” Nik says. “You said the Brownings?”
“Fucking Irish,” Dominic spits.
“Pains in the ass,” Nik says at the same time.
“So you know them,” I say.
Nik tilts his head and assesses me through narrowed eyes. “I am familiar.”
I sit for a moment, not sure what to say next. Dominic and Nik seem to be having a conversation without speaking, as they look into one another’s eyes.
