"Then youknow! The way he skates, the way he handles the stick—" I lean in, dropping my voice to a stage whisper that definitely carries. "Between you and me, the stick-handling is unreal.”
West makes a choking sound that might be a laugh.
Vivienne's expression is frozen somewhere between polite and horrified. "I'm sure he's very skilled—"
"Skilled doesn't even cover it." I'm on a roll now, my hands gesturing wildly. "And his teammates? Oh my gosh, the teamwork, the homeruns. Have you met Connor? And Jake? Those boys know how to work together, if you know what I mean."
"I'm not sure I—"
"One girl, three guys, moving like a well-oiled machine." I giggle, high and manic.
"I’m not just a puck bunny—I’mTeampuck bunny. Living theWhy Choosedream. Really makes you appreciate the sport, you know?"
West's hand lands on my thigh under the table, squeezing hard. I ignore it.
Vivienne is staring at me like I've grown a second head. "Miss—"
"Jane! But everyone calls me West's number one fan." I beam at her. "I've been following his career for years. I have his jersey. The home one and the away one. I sleep in the away one. Smells like him."
"It doesn't," West mutters.
“I even have a tattoo, right here!” I giggle and point vaguely towards my hip. “Like I said, his teammate, Connor’s jersey number, SIXTY-NINE! Want to see? It’s on my… my lady garden! You know, the special place!”
“Westlovesmy lady garden. Says it’s his favorite place to… you know. Park the Zamboni.” I wink exaggeratedly at Vivienne.
West makes a strangled sound. His face has gone an impressive shade of red. Vivienne looks physically alarmed.
I sigh dramatically. "Look, Vivienne, I know you mean well, but asking West to give up hockey? That's like asking him to give up breathing. Or me."
"I wasn't aware you and West were—"
"Oh, we're not exclusive." I wave my hand again, nearly knocking over my drink. "West likes variety. Don'tyou, baby?"
"Jane—" West's voice holds a sharp warning.
"He's got options," I continue, steamrolling over him. "Lots of options. Girls in every city. It's actually kind of exhausting keeping track, but I'm his favorite puck bunny, so it's fine."
Vivienne's expression has shifted from polite interest to active concern. "I see."
"Do you?" I tilt my head, letting my smile go just a little unhinged. "Because being with a hockey player isn't easy, Vivienne. The schedule alone is brutal. All those road games. All those puck bunnies throwing themselves at him. And the injuries—oh my gosh, the injuries."
"I'm sure—"
"Last season, he broke a finger. Two months ago, it's his ribs. What’s next, maybe his beautiful face." I reach up, patting West's cheek a little too hard. "I worry about this face."
West catches my hand. “I think Vivienne gets the picture.”
"Does she?" I smile sweetly. "Here's the thing, Viv—I mean, Vivienne. West hasn’t decide to go back to law."
Vivienne stiffens. "Miss Jane—"
"He's a player." I add sweetly, letting the double meaning hang. "In every sense of the word. And trying to turn him into something he's not? That's just going to make everyone miserable. Especially you."
Vivienne stands so abruptly her chair scrapes. "West, it was lovely to see you. I hope you'll reconsider your mother's suggestion about the firm, but I understand if your... current situation makes that complicated."
She's gone before West can respond, her linen perfection retreating across the pool deck at impressive speed.
I wait until she's out of earshot before turning to West.
