“Because you don’t think,” Nik said. He whipped off his sweater and unlaced his skates. He lifted his head and glared at me. “You introduce me to your girl.”
I smiled. “Will do.”
“Well, if I think she’s cool, I expect you to lock her down.”
I rolled my eyes. We didn’t always agree on how to talk about—or to—women, but the guys had good hearts.
“What happens if I don’t get your seal of approval?” I peeled off my sweater, pads, and undershirt, throwing them all in the bin that would go to the center’s laundry facility.
“Lucky for you, you have mine,” Maxim called over his shoulder. “That’s the only one that matters.”
“I’ll let you know my thoughts,” Cruz rumbled from his bench.
I shook my head as I finished stripping. The shower area had filled with steam by the time I entered. I went to my usual spot and turned the handle, groaning as the hot water speared into my battered muscles. Now that I was in my thirties, nothing healed as quickly as it had when I was an eighteen-year-old rookie. That’s why I had to play smarter than the new kids. I typically did.
I winced, cupping a deep bruise on my right ribs. The hit by the opposing D-man late in the third period smarted—in part because it had allowed New York to score a goal, but also because he’d hammered me with his shoulder, and then his stick. The ref hadn’t seen that, just as he’d intended.
I washed my hair and body, then toweled off, not wanting to keep Keelie or Andy waiting. Once I stepped into my street clothes—nice slacks, argyle socks (because everyone needed some style), dress shoes, and a button-down shirt—I ran a comb through my damp hair and grabbed my bag, phone, wallet, and keys from their spots in my locker.
Cruz was already gone, and so was Maxim. I picked up the pace, wincing as my bruised ribs protested. I burst through the doors into the concrete hallway to find six of the guys lining up to take a photo with Andy.
“Cormac! Yay! Now we can take it.” Andy beamed at me.
I hustled over, planning to give him a high-five, but he rammed into my legs, wrapping his arms as far around my thighs as he could. I stroked his back as Keelie stepped up next to me.
“Want me to hold your bag?” she asked.
I handed her the bag and used that arm to clasp the back of her neck under the heavy weight of her hair. I pulled her closer and kissed her temple, inhaling her sweet fragrance. The woman Keelie had been sitting with glared at me, then at Keelie. Naked jealousy blared from her expression.
I refocused on Keelie. She wore Wildcatters red and silver, a pretty red shirt with a little frill at the collar and a silver cardigan to keep her warm. That was Keelie—sensible but soft. I admired her trim legs in her jeans and enjoyed the moment, soaking in her warmth, even as I rubbed Andy’s back. He talked a mile a minute, clearly keyed up to meet the team.
“You look good like that, Mac,” Maxim said. “You ought to get yourself a family.”
I pulled back enough to look into Keelie’s wide blue eyes. Her pink cheeks were as adorable as her shocked expression. She was gorgeous. I already had a ridiculous obsession with the faint freckles that sprinkled her forehead—right where I liked to kiss her. Her lips beckoned me—slick and pink with just the right plumpness to press into…or bite.
I smiled at her before I bent down and collected Andy. I walked to the center of the group of guys and smiled for the picture as my mind stuck on how much I’d love to be holding my kid right now—mine and Keelie’s.
Chapter19
Keelie
Cormac slid his hand against mine, fingers squeezing gently as he walked me down the now-quiet hallway toward his exit. Nik, the defenseman we’d been talking to, hurried on ahead.
“Did you drive?” Cormac asked.
I shook my head. “Marian drove. My car’s at my house.”
“Good. That means I get to give you a ride.” He lifted our joined hands and kissed my knuckle.
Last I’d seen her, Marian was talking to Cormac’s friend Maxim, but they’d since disappeared. I would have sent Marian a text, but she didn’t like me to “hover.” In fact, as soon as we’d come down here, she’d gone back to making biting comments toward and about me.
Unsure what to do about her behavior, I’d chosen not to press the issue. But that had butterflies tumbling through my mid-section. I hated confrontation.Hated. It.
Still, I couldn’t let Marian walk all over my feelings. Something would have to change.
“Do you know what happened to Marian?” I asked.
Cormac pursed his lips. “Yeah.”
