Pine trees are covered in snow. Drifts cover the bases of them a few feet high. A light snow falls from the sky.
“Oh yeah. It freezes over early and won’t thaw until May.”
“Wow.”
Bex has no right looking as sexy as she does as she walks up to the small, old shed that sits next to the pond. In a pair of black snow pants, a light pink coat, and a gray hat, she is ready for our game.
“I can’t believe you have your very own pond out here for hockey.”
Bex moves the goal from the shed into place in nothing but her snow boots. She really was made to be around hockey. “During the winters, my dad would love coming up here with a few of the guys for tournaments.”
“Really?”
Poking my head into the wooden shed, I spot a few pairs of skates and grab ones that look like they’ll fit. It’s always weirdwearing another guy’s skates, but I’ll make do. Especially if it means Bex and I are out here together.
Lacing them up, I push off and do a few laps around the pond. Not the best-fitting pair of skates I’ve ever worn, but they’ll do.
“They were epic. They made these ridiculous trophies that they would play for.”
“What, like a frozen pond on one?” I ask, skating around her.
“No. They made them out of old glass tequila bottles. Soldered a metal bowl on top as the cup.”
I bark out a laugh, breathing in the cold mountain air. It feels so nice to be out here and not worrying about playing in the All-Star game.
No hockey. No practice.
Nothing.
Just me and Bex.
“You know, this isn’t you doing a good job of not thinking about hockey,” I point out.
“No, this is okay. I don’t have to make a single decision. It’s perfect.” Bex sits on the bench that looks like it was built for these tournaments, and laces up her own pair.
“Okay then. Why don’t we play for something? I know we don’t have our own trophy, but I’m sure we can come up with something.”
Bex does her own lap before skating over to me. “I’ll make you a bet.”
“You’ve got a trophy over there?” I nod to the shed. “Because if so, yes. I want to win one of these tequila trophies.”
“And if there’s no trophy?” Bex skates around me. I shouldn’t be surprised at how good her form is, but she’s a great skater. She shrugs a shoulder as she comes to a stop in front of me. “What would you want to play for then?”
Skating over to the bank of the pond, I grab the two sticks and hold one out for her to take. I dig the small black disk out of the snow pile and shoot it toward her.
“What do you have in mind?” I hold the stick over my shoulders, resting my hands on it.
“Winner gets to pick what we do tonight.”
“That’s it?” I snort a laugh.
“Oh no, Nick.” Bex walks her fingers up my chest. “In the bedroom.”
I have to ignore the way my cock stirs in my sweatpants. “Now you’re playing dirty.”
“Don’t take it if you don’t think you can win.”
“Just because I’m a goalie doesn’t mean I don’t have skill.”
