“They’re looking good out there,” War says, pulling me from my morbid thoughts.
With a look his way, I nod. “Yeah, they’re one hell of a team, but they’ll be better if we get Mav and Becks out there next year.”
I came down to watch the Bolts practice this morning because I’m meeting with Gavin after to discuss the prospects for this year’s draft.
War arches a brow. “Does that mean you’ve found someone to date for the next three months?”
With a shake of my head, I turn back to the ice. I’d like to say I’d forgotten about the damn bet. In fact, I wish I had. But it’s been haunting me. The bet has nothing to do with Savannah, and vice versa. But there’s no doubt that if I’m gonna date anyone, it’s her.
“Oh shit. There’s really a girl.” He chuckles, the sound deep and loud, drawing the attention of Gavin and Aiden, who are out on the ice with the team.
“What girl?”
I turn to my other side and discover that Daniel has joined us. He’s wearing a smirk like he knows precisely what girl. He and his wife were there that night, and ever since, they’ve been harassing me via text nonstop about how I disappeared from my own party like a caveman.
I did, and I don’t regret it for a second.
What I do regret is getting myself into this situation with this damn bet, but here we are.
“Could the two of you at least try to focus? I’m working here,” I grumble.
Daniel laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a crush.”
Though I refuse to look at him, War’s watching me with an intensity I can feel. “Me neither. A different girl a night, sure.”
“Sometimes two,” Daniel teases.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. “I’d be happy to talk to your wives about all the one-night stands you fuckers had?—”
Daniel laughs, a goofy grin on his face. “Oh, my wife knows I was a playboy.”
War folds his arms across his chest, chin lifted. “And I got my wife’s name tattooed on my balls. She knows she owns me.”
“Okay,” I say, drawing the word out. “So you understand that when you meet the girl, the past doesn’t matter.”
“Holy fuck,” Daniel hollers, startling the shit out of me. “Did he just saythegirl?”
“He fucking did,” War crows.
“If the three of you are gonna continue gossiping like teenagers,” Gavin shouts from the ice, “then move along. I’m trying to lead practice over here.”
I shrink under the glare of our former coach. The other guys do too. Never did like disappointing him.
Only now do I realize that the guys on the bench are all watching us, and Brayden’s chewing on his mouthguard with a fucking smirk on his face.
“Sorry, Coach,” we say in unison.
With a huff, he shakes his head and turns back to the team. “Okay, show’s over. Go get showered and get some rest. These next two weeks are going to be brutal.”
The guys start collecting their gear and heading toward the tunnel, but before they get far, Coach whistles.
“And if I hear that any of you break curfew, I’ll have your heads.”
That’s something these guys do regularly. They’re young and stupid, and not one of them is married yet.
Back when I joined the team, almost everyone was single. But I swear, once Brooks fell for Sara, the rest toppled like dominoes. All but me, I guess. And fucking around lost its thrill when I was on my own, so hockey became my focus. The rest of the guys were damn dedicated too, and we’ve got three cups to show for it. We had apretty fucking great run, though it’s been a decade since we’ve carried the cup around this rink, and Gavin is looking for one more before he hands over the reins to someone else. Likely Aiden, though I’m not sure if he actually wants the title of head coach. Only time will tell, I guess.
If we’re gonna get that championship, I need to do my fucking job and get Beckham Warren and Maverick Hall on our team. Wish we could have convinced Addie Langfield to wear the Bolts jersey too, but she’ll do a hell of a job as goalie coach.
