Taylor made a sound like he’d choked on air. “Holy shit! How did he respond to that?”
“Well, they both ended up healthy-scratched the next game because they beat the shit out of each other at practice. And Bronny’s dad definitely threw a fit about that, but Coach Gleason didn’t give a fuck. I’m honestly not surprised it was Bronson who got him fired in the end.” I rolled my eyes again. “Fucking dick.”
“No kidding. I’ve played with a few guys from hockey dynasties, and they can be full of themselves, but the Bronsonclan?” He grimaced, shaking his head. “They are something else.”
“Yeah, they are.” I paused. “Neither of his boys are in the NAPH now, though. I think Bronny was pretty good, but not as good as his mouth claimed he was.”
“Big shock. The one who played with me got drafted in the seventh round, same year as me.” He chuckled. “Not gonna lie, it was so satisfying to get drafted ahead of him.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What round were you?”
“Fifth.” He dropped his gaze and shrugged. “Still not great, but I got picked up ahead of Skylar Bronson, so…”
“Hey.” I nudged his foot under the table. “Fifth round is still drafted. There’s no shame in it.”
He looked at me through his lashes. “Weren’t you nineteenth overall?”
I nodded. “I was, and yes, I’m proud of that. But very, very few players even get drafted. Just having your name called during the draft puts you inveryelite company.”
He studied me uncertainly, but then a smile slowly formed, as did a subtle blush. “Thanks. I, uh… I never thought of it that way.”
I smiled back, though I wasn’t sure how to respond.
Right then, though, Taylor looked around. “Oh. Shit. Looks like they want to close up the room.”
“Close up the—oh.” Several hotel employees were clearing away chafing dishes and cleaning off tables, eyeing us surreptitiously as they did.
Because we were the only Orcas left in the room, and we probably had been for a while. Oops.
Taylor pushed his chair back and chuckled as a blush bloomed on his cheeks. “Guess we lost track of time.”
“Guess so, yeah.” I got up too, drained my coffee, and followed him out of the room, both of us murmuring apologies to the staff.
On the way out, Taylor threw a sheepish look back at the room. “Shit. We really lost track of time, didn’t we?”
“Yeah. We did.”
We met each other’s gazes. Only for a second, but it was almost enough to make me stumble. Thank God I didn’t, though—my knee wouldn’t have forgiven me, and my pride would never have recovered.
I really was stupid for him, wasn’t I? The attraction was strong and undeniable, but it was also just so easy to get lost in conversation with him. Dancing and making out with him at a club had been fun. Talking about hockey and everything that went with it—with someone who knew the sport and all the idiosyncrasies that people outside of hockey didn’t quire understand—was amazing. It was one of the few things I missed about my relationship with Drew.
Except… no. Drew talkedtome about hockey the same way he talkedtome about sex and anything else he thought he knew better than I did.
Talking about it with Taylor felt more peer-to-peer. Like we were comparing notes and experiences, but he wasn’t lecturing me or explaining things to me that I already understood.
I liked Taylor. I liked the way we fell into conversations the same way we fell into playing hockey as linemates. It worked. It waseasy.
It made it really, really easy to imagine our dynamic changing to more than teammates—more than friends—into something I’d sworn I’d never do again.
Was it really so bad, getting involved with a teammate? With this teammate in particular? After all, we’d only be teammates for a few more days.
Then again, Taylor could get called up, and not just for a game or two. He was good, and he was getting into his prime, so making it on to the Rainiers wasn’t out of the question at all.
So… no. Maybe not such a good idea.
No matter how much more tempting it got every time I talked or played with him.
CHAPTER 9
