“Blyat!” Bradley yelled as a Winnipeg player checked Kenzo into the boards. “That was interference! Are you blind?”
“Are you part Russian too?” I asked, eyeing his blond hair and green eyes. Maybe his mother was Russian. The swearing was impressively fluent.
Bradley laughed, nearly sloshing wine onto the very couch I was trying to protect. “God, no. Hana taught me about hockey and Russian swear words.”
“And how to make a mean tagliatelle!” Hana added, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Not as good as yours.”
“You’re just buttering me up so I come over to make you dinner again.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She grinned, then immediately started shouting again as the play resumed. “Davai, davai! Move your feet, Sully!”
I watched him streak down the ice, somehow keeping possession despite two defenders on him. He passed to Kenzo, who one timed it toward the net—
The goalie caught it.
“Suka,” Hana muttered.
“Language,” Bradley said primly, then immediately added, “Also, what she said.”
I found myself relaxing into the couch, the earlier awkwardness about Nico fading. There was something easy about this—watching the game with people who cared about the outcome, eating good food, being included without having to explain myself.
“So,” Bradley said casually, swirling his wine. “Derek Sullivan is cute. Kenzo said he’s single.”
I nearly choked on my bite of pasta.
Hana shrugged, her eyes glued to the movement of the puck on the screen. “Wasn’t he engaged?”
“Was he? Kenzo’s not the best about asking these types of questions.” Bradley tapped a manicured nail against his glass. “I’ll have to grill him the next time I see him.”
“Please don’t.” Hana wrinkled her nose. “I’m not interested in Sully.”
“Why not? He’s tall, dark, and handsome.” Bradley’s gaze slid to me, his expression clearly looking for backup. “Don’t you think so, Théo?”
I kept my expression neutral. “Uhm, yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?” Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I’m in a committed relationship and even I get a little flustered when he walks in here.”
“Bradley,” Hana’s tone was warning.
“What? I’m just making an observation.”
On screen, Derek checked someone into the boards and I forced myself not to react.
“Are you still dogsitting for him?” Hana asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yes. His regular dogsitter is still out of commission, so I’ve been staying over there while they’re away.”
“What’s his apartment like?” Bradley’s eyes lit up. “I bet he has a lot of leather.” He paused, then grinned wickedly. “Tell me—how big is it?”
I choked on my wine.
“His TV,” Bradley added innocently. “What did you think I meant?”
“I hate you,” Hana said flatly.
