“You also wouldn’t hear the end of it,” I mutter. It’s honestly a miracle that his birthday isn’t a national holiday in Canada.
With a chuckle, Elliott claps my back. Part of me was nervous that it’d be weird that Maya’s brother is dating my best friend, but it’s working in everyone’s favor. I’ve gotten to know him as a friend rather than only as “my girlfriend’s brother,” and Maya never feels the need to sacrifice time with her family because of me—or vice versa.
“Congrats to you, man,” he says, tipping his beer against his lips.
I bounce a curled knuckle against my thigh, my hackles raising in response to the casualness of his congratulations. There’s no way he knows about the meeting next week. He can’t. Only my agent and the general managers of the Bobcats and Devils do. But if not that, then what the hell would he be congratulating me for? Being out past eight p.m. on a Saturday when we have a game the following day?
I wrap my arm around Maya’s waist, the simple act bringing me a sense of comfort. “For what?”
“I never thought the day would come when my sister chose a night out with her boyfriend over a night in with one of her many book boyfriends.”
Maya swings her arm out to slug him in the shoulder, but he anticipates the move and easily sidesteps her.
I chuckle as she huffs. “It’s because I’m special, right, baby?”
“Considering I hung out with you instead of reading what some people are claiming is the next breakout romantasy? Yeah, I’d say you’re very special.”
I press my lips against the top of her head. “You really know how to get a man all revved up.”
Holding up his hands, Elliott backs away. “And that’s my cue to get back to the game.”
“All revved up, huh?” Maya pokes my stomach. “All those romance books I read must be rubbing off on you.”
“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: a romance book about a bookstore manager falling for a hockey player would sell millions of copies.”
“I can already see the opening line,” Maya says, arching a sardonic brow raise. “Once upon a time, a hockey player made out with a bookstore manager and then ghosted her.”
My heart stumbles a little at the easy way she threw that detail out. “And then realized he was being an idiot,” I add. “Thankfully, the bookstore manager was so overcome by lust for said hockey player that she gave him another chance.”
“Overcome by lust?” Maya laughs, her shoulders shaking. “I guess I’d read a story like that.”
“You shouldn’t read it. You should write it.”
As a flush creeps up her neck, she ducks, like she’s trying to hide it, and twists the material of my shirt between her fingers. “My teacher actually suggested turning a short story I wrote for class into a full story.”
With pride filling my chest, I turn so we’re face to face. “That’s amazing, baby. When can I read it?”
“All I said is that they suggested it,” she points out with a laugh. “Not that I’m going to do it. It’d be a while before you could potentially read it.”
I frown at the wordpotentially. “As long as I get to read it before Brian,” I tease with an eyebrow waggle.
“There’s no need to be jealous, Cole. He’s just my writing partner”—lowering her voice, she adds—“but you’re the one whose cock I’ll be coming on tonight.”
Jesus have mercy. I love her romance books.
Throwing me a saccharine smile, as if she didn’t just give me the world’s biggest boner, she plants a kiss on my lips. “I’m going to find my friends and grab a drink.”
For a moment, I stay where I am, reciting every Stanley Cup winner since 1990 to rein myself back in. When I’m confident that I’m not about to face my teammates with a massive hard-on, I grab a pool cue and corral a few of the guys into a new game.
I’m pulling back my arm to take a shot when I’m attacked from behind. A heavy weight hits me, like a jungle cat leaping onto my back. My cue skids off the side of my ball and accidentally knocks the other team’s ball in.
I groan while my opponents high-five. “Logan, man, what the fuck?”
He clambers off me and tilts his head, pouting. “How’d you know it was me?”
“No other person I know would jump onto someone mid-game.” Leaning against the table, I run a hand through my hair. “And I can’t even be mad at you about it because it’s your birthday.”
He smiles at me, his eyes twinkling. “The rules are the rules.”
