He grinned and puffed out his chest. “I’ll have you know I’m an exceptionally mediocre baker.”
I barked a laugh. “What exactly qualifies as ‘exceptionally mediocre’?”
“I can hold my own without burning anything,” he explained as he pulled off his helmet. “And most of what I make is pretty good. But nobody’s ever going to ask me to make a wedding cake again.”
“Again?” I cocked a brow as I took off my own helmet. “Is there a story there?”
“One I’ll tell you over dinner, yes.”
“Deal.”
With post-practice plans established, we started stripping off our gear. We undressed with all the unselfconsciousness of guys who’d been in hockey locker rooms since we were kids.
Usually there were a lot of people getting in or out of gear, though. Or at least a lot of people and activity. I couldn’t remember a time when it had been just me and one other person without any other noise or movement around us.
Especially when that one other person was someone as intensely attractive as Avery Caldwell.
I was not ready for the work it took to keep my gaze from accidentally landing on him. I wasn’t going to perv on him or anything, but without any other distractions, it waseasy to absently let my focus snap on to him. Just like when we’d been on the ice, it took work not to zero in on him simply because he was the only one there, and thenkeepstaring because he was so… damn…hot.
I seriously did not need an eyeful of that man’s bare shoulders. Or six-pack. Or ass. Or package. Or…
Goddammit, he was so sexy.
But this was the locker room, not a nightclub. He was my teammate, not a potential hookup. No matter how much I wanted him—oh my God, I wanted him—this was neither the time nor the place.
It was especially not the time. He was up to his neck in trying to get a handle on his grief and his drinking, and getting involved with anyone—especially a teammate—would only complicate things.
As I headed for the showers, it wasn’t lost on me that he’d gone out to get drunk and get laid the night he’d had me come get him from the club. Were hookups a normal thing for him? Or had that just been part of his self-destructive pattern? Not that I thought hookups were self-destructive. I was hardly above them, even if I hadn’t had the time, energy, or inclination to get laid since I’d come to Pittsburgh. But hookupscouldbe self-destructive the same way drinkingcouldbe.
And was it even my business? Yes, I was concerned about him, but the way my stomach curdled when I thought about him firing up Grindr or Tinder while I was on the road… that was not concern.
Am I… jealous? Of someone who might not even exist?
I mouthed a few curses as I let the shower’s hot spray rush over my neck and back.
What iswrongwith me?
Nothing I needed to be thinking about now, that was forsure. I’d come here today to help Avery get back on the rails. After this, we’d have dinner so we?—
Oh my God. I’d invited him to my place for dinner.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hung my head to let the water rush over my hair. What was I thinking? I’d barely been able to skate when it was just him and me on the ice.
Well, there was no turning back now. I’d find a way to not make an ass of myself tonight, and hopefully I’d be able to focus well enough to cook. I could play hockey while I was distracted. Cook a salmon without scorching it? We’d find out.
By some miracle, I managed to finish my shower and get dressed without embarrassing myself. Avery was a few steps behind me, and he sat down to put on his sneakers just after I’d finished tying mine.
“Before we go,” he said as he leaned down to tie one, “I think I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee.”
“Mind if I join you?”
When he glanced up, his smile was a little tired but adorable nonetheless. “Not at all.”
Why was that making my stupid heart do stupid flippy things? God, I was stupid.
After he’d put on his shoes, we strolled out of the locker room to the training center’s lobby. This area could be absolutely crawling with people if there was a tournament going on, or when fans crammed into the stands to watch training camp. Today, the schedule was pretty quiet, so there were only a few people milling around out here. There was a signup table for skating and hockey lessons, and a handful of parents waited with their kids in tow. The coffee stand had two people in line, and I thought I saw someone wandering into the Rebel Wear store, which sold jerseys and other team-branded items for fans.
“It’s so weird when it’s this quiet,” Avery murmured as we got in line. “It’s like when I come here to practice during the off season.” He huffed a laugh. “I keep expecting to see a tumbleweed roll through.”
