“I stand by what I said.” I brushed snow off my face and jersey. “You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, but I’malso one goal ahead of—hey!”
I charged toward the other goal, the puck on my stick, and it was my turn to cackle as he cursed at my back.
He almost caught me, though; I was halfway across the offensive zone when he tried to poke check the puck away. He came close, but I managed to shoulder check him off me and score.
“One-one!” I pumped my fist. “Kiss my ass, Calds!”
Still laughing, he knocked his shoulder into my back, and I whacked his shin with my stick.
“Fine, dickhead.” He huffed melodramatically. “We’re tied. Still first to five?”
“Sounds good.” I dug the puck out of the net. “Too bad we don’t have someone to drop the puck for us. We could actually do a faceoff.”
“Yeah, but what fun is that? I suck at faceoffs, and besides…” He swiped the puck off my blade and took off. “We don’t need them!”
I rolled my eyes again. I shouldn’t have even been surprised.
Avery edged me out 5-4, but it was close.
By the time he potted that last goal, we were both drenched in sweat, and I was exhausted like I’d just played thirty minutes in a real game.
“You know,” I panted as I skated up beside him. “This wassupposedto be some friendly one-on-one. Andsomeof us had practice this morning.”
The innocent look he shot me was too damned cute. “It was friendly, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. I think I’m gassed, though.”
“Me too, now that you mention it.”
We started toward the bench and the water bottles we’d left on top of the dashers.
After I’d taken a drink, I poured some down the back of my neck. “Do you, um, want to grab some—” I glanced at the clock on the scoreboard. “Okay, it’s a bit late for lunch, but maybe an early dinner?”
Avery looked in the same direction, then shrugged, and when he faced me again, his smile could’ve melted the ice beneath our skates. “Yeah, I could eat. Got anywhere in mind?”
There was a restaurant right beside the training center that players and staff alike frequented, but I had a feeling that might be a little high-profile for him right now.
“Well.” I hesitated. “I was planning to cook tonight, since I don’t have to be at the arena. You’re welcome to join me?”
Surprise flickered across his face, and for a moment, I was sure I’d overstepped. We were on strange ground and had been for a while, and I didn’t want to complicate that any more than we already had.
But then he smiled. “I didn’t know you cooked.”
Some warmth rushed into my face as I half-shrugged. “I won’t be competing onMasterChefany time soon, but I can hold my own.”
“Well, now I’m curious.” He tipped his head toward the locker room. “Shall we?”
I tried not to think about why my heart sped up as we headed off the ice. Over my shoulder, I asked, “Do you like salmon?”
“I love salmon.” He paused to deposit his stick on the rack. “Can I bring something?”
The words“maybe a bottle of wine or something?”verynearly flew from my lips. I caught them, though, and went with, “I didn’t have anything planned for dessert. If you want to grab something sweet…”
“I can do that. If I had more time, I’d make something, but storebought will have to do.”
As I stepped into the locker room ahead of him, I glanced back. “You bake?”
