I sense that the others aren’t impressed with the fact that she’s keeping the conversation with me going. I sidle closer to her and Luke Burrows from the Bears reluctantly shifts out of my way. Good man. “I had a torn meniscus. Knee.”
She nods and inches closer to me. “Bummer. Is it okay now?”
“Yeah. All good.” I think I’m tripping balls rightnow. Her attention is making me as high as the Stratosphere Tower here in Vegas.
“Hockey players are tough.”
“We are. The toughest.”
“Have you ever played hurt?”
“All the time.” I smile. “Not anything crazy though. One of my teammates finished a game with a broken fibula. Another guy had a broken hand.” I shake my head.
“They’re crazy to play through that. My brother had broken ribs once and kept playing. It’s kind of a stupid culture.”
I lift an eyebrow. “And I thought you were a fan.”
Her slow smile makes my groin tighten. “I am a fan. I can still see what’s wrong with the sport, though.”
Now both my eyebrows go up. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Like fighting.”
“Phhht. That’s part of the game.”
“You’d get arrested for punching someone off the ice.”
“But note that wedon’t, when it’s on the ice.”
She smiles as if she’s enjoying this. “Toxic masculinity.”
“Oh, please. We’re all modern guys now.”
“But you play hurt rather than admit to a weakness. It’s that toughness thing.”
Okay, she’s got me there. I already knew that, but this is fun.
“The whole sport is toxic masculinity. Violence, dominance, emotional illiteracy, sexual entitlement, and hostility to women.”
“Whoa. I see why you say that. But…” I stop.
A sly grin pulls at her pretty lips. “But… not all hockey players?”
“You got me.” My smile matches hers. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“I do.” She lifts one shoulder. “And you didn’t actually say it. You knew better.”
I’ll take that. “Yeah. I know that women don’t think all men are rapists or whatever. When they talk about, um… what was it?… sexual entitlement, violence, hostility to women… they’re talking about the men who are the problem.”
Interest sparks in her eyes.
Somehow everyone around us has fucked off and we’re standing alone at a high-top table. My gaze drops to her drink, which is empty. “Hey, you need another drink.” I hold up mine. “Me, too. Come on.”
She gives me a long look, then pushes away from the table she’s leaning on. I drop behind her to follow her to the bar. I shamelessly take advantage of being behind her to check out her ass, which is round and tight.
At the bar, I get the attention of one of the servers. “What are you having?” I ask Nikki.
“Whiskey sour.”
