I rocked my head from side to side. “I don’t know about that. It’s probably good to baby it while you’re still rehabbing it,then push harder when you’re…” I circled my finger in the air, indicating the team he was playing with temporarily.
He quirked his lips, an expression that had no business being that cute. Unaware of my brain shorting out for a second, he half-shrugged. “Maybe.” He met my gaze, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well. It’s getting better. By the time I’m back in Seattle, I’ll probably be fine.”
I returned the smile and nodded, pretending not to notice the sinking feeling in my chest. Why was I disappointed? It wasn’t like it was any big secret that, hello, Vasily would be returning to his team after his two-week loan was up. That was the whole point of him being here.
I guess I just… wasn’t ready for him to leave.
We moved to lighter topics, fortunately. Comparing notes on life in Vegas. Playfully chirping about the games and practices we’d had together with the Orcas. Talking about how some of the NAPH teams were doing this season and who we thought might make a solid run at the cup.
It was actually more fun than dancing with him at the club had been. That night, I’d been so sure I was about to hook up with Vasily Abashev. Maybe blow each other in a backseat or a back alley, or quite possibly a whole lot more, given the way he’d been looking at me, not to mention the way he’d kissed me. Today, just chatting on the bus like a couple of teammates—it was relaxing and fun. I liked Vasily. I was glad we’d put our stupid first encounter behind us so we could be teammates—friends, even—while he was here.
Somewhere along the way, the bus stopped at a gas station, and most of us piled off in search of restrooms, coffee, water, and snacks. I managed to get everything I needed before most of my teammates, so I didn’t have to stand in the ever-growing line. I didn’t feel like getting back on the bus quite yet, though, so I hovered near the convenience store’s door, sipping my coffeeand waiting until the last possible moment to brave the cold again.
Hoskins joined me, a gigantic iced coffee in his gloved hand.
I peered at the cup, then at him. “You are aware that it’s winter, right?”
He glanced outside, where the snow was falling gently onto the white landscape. “Um. Yes?”
“Right. And…” I gestured at his coffee. “You know they serve that hot, don’t you?”
“Mmhmm. But it tastes better cold.” Eyes locked on mine, he took a deep swig through the straw.
I shuddered. I liked iced coffee as much as the next person, but not inJanuaryin the middle of fuckingAlberta. Jesus H. Christ.
Hoskins kept drinking his huge cup of masochism while I sipped my more civilized hot coffee. After a moment, he said, “You and Chevy, huh?” He cocked a brow. “You guys a thing or something?”
For the second time today, I almost spat out my coffee. “What? What do you mean?”
Hoskins inclined his head. “Sooo… we’re all imagining you two flirting.”
I blinked stupidly at him. “Imagine—flirting—what the fuck are you talking about?”
He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “Seriously?”
“Um. Yes?” I gestured toward the bus with my cup. “We were just talking hockey.”
“Uh-huh. Just hockey.”
“Yes?”
“Mmhmm.” He sipped his coffee again. “So that’s how gay hockey dudes flirt? By talking hockey?”
A laugh burst out of me as I shook my head. “Fuck you, Hoskins.”
He snickered. Then he clapped my shoulder and headed for the bus. “I know what I saw, Wils.”
Rolling my eyes, I followed him out into the bitter cold. “You don’t know shit about fuck.”
That earned me a middle finger.
As I settled back into my seat on the bus, though, I chewed on what Hoskins had said. It was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
There was no way Vasily of all people had been flirting with me.
Right?
