She tugs at them and then smiles. “I’m Cora. You’re not Anne or Meg, so who are you?”
I offer her my hand for a quick shake. “I’m Sue-Ann, Max’s friend.” Dammit, how I hate that word. Friend. Like what does it really mean? Nothing, that’s what.
Her lips purse into a little pout. “Oh, I didn’t know Max had any female friends. That’s awesome. I have a friend on the team too, Blaine Rice.”
My gaze follows hers to where Max and Blaine sit together on the bench. “Max talks about him all the time. So you must be friends with Max?”
“Yeah, we hang around sometimes. Blaine and I have been friends since we were kids. Our parents are neighbors. When he got drafted by the Caribou, everyone was really happy. Max too. It’s nice when the hometown boys stick around. I think it’s good for the community.”
We get distracted when the Caribou skate into the opposing team’s zone and a flurry of passing and bodies throwing themselves around takes over. I’m not sure what’s happening, but at the end, the light above the net flashes red and the crowd goes wild while Adam raises his arms about his head and starts hugging his teammates.
Jules leaps to her feet, screaming her fool head off and I follow suit. “Adam scored a goal!”
“That’s so awesome,” I say, screaming above the blaring celebratory music and clapping my hands.
“Caribou goal scored by number eleven, Adam Spencer, assisted by number twenty-three, Jason Plant. Time of goal twelve thirty-seven.” The PA announcer’s smooth voice announces all the particulars.
“So Adam has an assistant?” I ask. “He must be really important.”
Jules socks me in the upper arm. “No, silly. When Jason passed him the puck, they call that an assist. Anyone who handles the puck prior to the goal and contributes would get one. But if Adam had skated into the zone alone, they call that a breakaway and there wouldn’t have been any assists in that case.”
I flop back down into my seat after the commotion eases, my head throbbing. “Oh, okay. I’m not going to pretend that I get it.”
Once the first period ends with the Caribou leading one to nothing, Jules and I decide to head to the restroom. After I wash my hands and step outside to find her, she waves me over.
“Shit, I’ve got to leave. The sitter said Charlie has a little bit of a temperature, and she can’t get him to stop crying. Are you going to be okay alone until you and Max meet up after the game? Cora can show you where to go.”
My mind races. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you? Maybe you could use a helping hand with him?”
Jules shakes her head. “No can do. This is your first Caribou game, and I know it’s important for Max for you to be here. You can have Charlie time when he’s feeling a bit better. It’s just a little toothache, I’m sure. He’s cutting teeth and that can give them a low-grade fever.”
I hike my purse higher up onto my shoulder. “If you’re sure?”
“Totally.” Jules pulls me in for a hug. “I’ll see you at girls’ night, if not before. Have fun. And if you need your questions answered, Cora’s your girl. She’s the sweetest thing this side of the northern border.”
With a little wave, she disappears into the stream of people heading toward the concession stands and the portable bars. All of a sudden, I feel completely alone even though I’m standing in a huge crowd. Maybe it’s because I feel so out of place. I can do this. I can. Steeling my spine, I head back to the seats and settle in for the second period.
During a lull in the action, I turn toward Cora. “So, tell me more about your friend Blaine.”
Her face lights up and I wonder if she’s hiding something, because she looks like a woman who loves a man. And then I wonder if he loves her too, but for some crazy reason, he’s hiding it. I remember Max telling me that Blaine doesn’t have a girlfriend, but this girl is sitting in the place of honor instead.
Maybe because he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. Because when he sees her, his day gets better. And then I think of Max, because I feel that way when we’re together and I know if gets serious, it might implode everything we’ve built and then I lose my partner in crime. And my life goes back to boring and mundane.
And I end up alone.
Again.
Cora smiles wide. “He’s like my best friend. When we were young, we used to play in the dirt, catch fireflies, toads, you know. I was a total tomboy. Blaine would always be daring me to do things I was afraid of. But if I got hurt, my mom fixed me up with Bactine and Band-Aids and I’d try and try again. When he got into hockey, that took a lot of his time. But it’s okay. We still catch up whenever he’s home and not on a road trip.”
“Some people say that men and women can’t be friends, but it sounds like you’re the exception to that rule.”
She tugs at her glasses and pulls her lower lip between her teeth. I know she wants to say something more but instead, she sighs. “I probably like Blaine more than he likes me, ya know? I teach second grade, so I just try to make my kids’ lives the best they can be. That will have to be enough for me.”
“Hmm… are you sure he’s right in the head? You’re beautiful and smart and fun to talk to. I can’t think of a woman a man would like better.”
Her gaze moves to a threesome of plastic-looking girls a few rows over. “Those camp followers—you know, the puck bunnies—they all have long hair and big boobs and legs a mile long. I’m a total geek. I can’t even see without my glasses. I could never date Blaine because I’d be eaten alive by social media. I’d embarrass him.”
“The only way to get rid of bullies is to stand up to them,” I say, squeezing her hand. And I’m about to give her some advice I should probably take myself. “And if you want something, you should go after it and not let what anyone else thinks about it affect your decision. People need to mind their business. Blaine should decide what he wants and not social media trolls.”
Just as the buzzer sounds to end the second period, Milo jogs down the aisle until he reaches our row.
He smiles, slipping into Julia’s empty seat. “Nice to see you again, Sue-Ann. Glad you’re here.”
“Hey, Milo.”
His gaze follows Max as he heads into the dressing room. “You know, this is the best I’ve seen him play since he got drafted. And I’m pretty sure I know why. I knew I was on to something when I sent him to your store to see how a successful adult moves through the world. He seems like he’s finally got his head on straight.”
Because I’ve been tending to his other head more.
I hold my next inhale, searching his face for any sign of annoyance, but Milo’s expression remains pleasant. “Are you mad that we’re seeing each other?”
“Mad? Hardly. I told him to stay away from you, but in this case, I’m okay that he ignored me as long as it’s consensual. I just didn’t want him harassing you or something. He’s a big boy and sometimes he knows what’s best for him and his future. He sees something in you that inspires him.” Milo slows down and glances at Maisy. “I understand where he’s coming from. Sometimes the right woman can help a man find himself. Help him move mountains he once thought he couldn’t budge.”
I nod and smile, but I’m not sure I’m deserving of such high praise.
Not yet—maybe not ever.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Max
I step off the ice and shuffle my padded ass along the bench as the players make a shift change. Sweat pours off my forehead. But Sue-Ann sits in the stands in my family seats. Hell to the yeah. It gives me just the little kick in the ass I need to get my legs underneath me and play my best.
“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing to my right at Blaine as he hurls a glob of spit onto the floor.
I squeeze a stream of water into my mouth from my bottle, letting it splash my chin and upper lip. Grabbing a face towel from the trainer to mop beneath my half-shield, I make short work of it and tossed it back to the Caribou’s trainer sopping wet.
&n
bsp; “Dalton wants your ass on a plate after you crosschecked him into the net,” Blaine says, gesturing with his glove. “Don’t let him get to you, so it doesn’t get handed back to you in front of your girl.”
I glare at the player in question. “He’s a douche.”
“Who isn’t on the Hawks team? That’s why they’re called the opposition,” Blaine replies, his face wrinkled up into a grimace. “They’re paid to hate us, and we’re paid to hate them. Channel your hate into some offense, why don’t you? Maybe it’ll get you laid.”
“I’ll score with her whether or not I score on the ice.”
He takes off his glove to mop his face. “You just keep thinking that, Romeo.”
“Why don’t you worry about your own girl instead of being a pansy who won’t tell her how he feels?”
I shrug off my anger and focus on the action unfolding on the ice. Tied 2-2 against the Greyhawks, and Dalton just ripped away my chance to score the go-ahead goal and be the hero in front of Sue-Ann and Milo and now he’s gonna pay.
The bench erupts in raucous shouts as the puck hits Spencer in the middle of his tape and he shakes loose on a breakaway. Just when I think he’s going to put it in the five-hole of the Hawk’s goalie, the bastard comes up big and stops Adam cold.
Dead on arrival.
Above the din, the squeals of several women in the seats a few rows up reaches me. That must be Julia and Sue-Ann. As I turn my head, I don’t see Julia, and I can barely make out Sue-Ann’s curvy body as she jumps up and down and then falls back into her seat dejected when Adam doesn’t score on what really looked like a sure thing.
Bested by a hot goalie. Shit happens to the best of us.
And he’s the best.
Pulling the brakes on my runaway train of thought and stiffening my spine, I turn my attention back to the rink, hope springing eternal and rising from the ashes like the phoenix and all that shit. I take another blast from my water bottle to fortify me for my next shift. I’m going to kill that shit. Just let Dalton try and stop me. He’s been underestimating me all game when he damn well shouldn’t.
We rap our sticks against the boards when our goalie, Neil Thomas makes a great glove save, forcing a face-off in our zone. I shuffle farther down the bench as the next shift hits the ice. Bored by the break in the game, my mind drifts to Sue-Ann almost like I can feel her stare on me. My body heats and not from my exertion last shift. I wonder if she’s undressing me with those bedroom eyes of hers.
Despite our limited time together, I like her. Like really like her. Because I keep thinking about her even when I knew I shouldn’t be. Like right now.
I flinch for real as I feel a shove from the side. I didn’t even notice Blaine jump through the gate ahead of me, choosing to sit on the bench like an ignorant fool jonesing for a girl instead of his career. Even when that career is on the line.
At my teammate’s prompt, I leap onto the ice, nearly tripping over the sill and doing a face plant. I catch myself and skate with extra power over to the face-off circle. Distraction would be fatal against someone like Dalton, who glides into position opposite me for the impending puck drop.
I file away my embarrassment over a random memory lapse and focus on winning the draw, bracing my stance and my stick in front of the Hawk’s legendary center. I’m the one with something to prove. I know it and so does he. I don’t have the multi-million-dollar contract that speaks for itself—I might even get released at the end of this season due to the underperformance clause in my year by year deal.
But I’m here now. And so is she. And her support lights a fire underneath my skates. It gives me something to play for.
In a split second, the rubber disk hits the ice, and I move like a blur, winning the round. My blades carve the ice, my speed no match for Dalton’s slower movements. I deliver the puck to Blaine, who clears our zone, heading toward the Hawk’s blue line, but Dalton finally gets his legs underneath him and closes the gap. Swearing a blue streak, I lunge forward, leading with my elbow to shove his hulking ass out of the way. A risky play but unnoticed in the ensuing fray.
The puck dips back to our defense and is quickly head-manned to Blaine again who streaks toward the net. I rush in for the backcheck, keeping Blaine from having to pass. He takes a nice shot, which is unfortunately blocked by the Hawk’s goalie. The puck hits the netminder in the shins and takes a bounce sideways, just as I change direction, searching for the rebound, but the Hawks clear the puck.
Retreating back into our zone, I scoop it up in less than a heartbeat and carry it back across the blue line, accelerating into my signature speedy stride. The noise of the spectators escalates along with me, but the crowd noise just blanks out when I get my legs. And in that special moment, I remember what I seem to have forgotten lately.
I love this fucking game.
And I’m good at it. Better than good.
A suspended quiet always fills my ears as I focus on the task ahead—lungs pumping, blades carving, eyes scanning, looking for that golden opportunity.
My opponents yell at each other behind me, hot on my tail, including that douche nozzle Dalton, desperate to short circuit my partial breakaway. But I’m even more aware of Blaine skating nearly abreast of me on the other side of the ice. I could dish off to him, but not this time. Not this moment. I’m normally the most unselfish player on the team, but tonight I’m indulging in a little limelight under the watchful eyes of my girl.
My heart throbbing and lungs burning, I increase gears and deftly redirect and raise the puck up over the goalie’s padded leg as he spins to face me. Not quick enough, dude. Not nearly quick enough. The red light flashes to life along with the rabid fans.
I skirt behind the net to collide with my teammates in a celly as the rest of our nearby teammates swarm around us. We break apart and skate past our box, tapping gloves with those players still behind the boards. Before I sit down, I turn and catch Sue’s gaze—the moment seems to suspend in time—until I give her a wink and plop my ass back down.
“Did you fucking just wink?” Blaine teases, jostling me in the ribs with his gloved hand. “You’re so fucking gone. She’s got your balls in the palm of her hand and now all she has to do is squeeze.”
“Maybe I like my balls in her hand. That’s better than you pining after a girl who’s never even seen yours. By the way, Cora looks hot tonight. Very naughty librarian. Bet you beat off to thoughts of her with just her glasses and heels on.”
“Shut your foul mouth and enjoy your goal.”
The announcer comes over the PA. “Unassisted Caribou goal scored by number nineteen, Max Monroe. Time of goal sixteen thirty-nine.”
I laugh like a man who just scored the game-winner. And Sue-Ann is here to witness it.
My mojo.
*****
After the game, I shower and get ready to leave the locker room as soon as possible so I can get to the best part of my evening, but of course, the journalists all want a piece of me since I scored the game-winner and seem to have finally shaken off all the mold on my skates.
It’s a fresh, new Max Monroe.
I do a few tape interviews for the local papers and a live one for Mike Max on WCCO. My teammates slap me on the back and hoot and holler as they file out to their wives and girlfriends, even Spencer, who for once, doesn’t look like he wants to stick his foot up my ass.
I trot toward Sue-Ann, a smile splitting my face wide. It’s like I can’t frown, even if I wanted to, my face is permanently set to happy mode. She returns my grin, and I sweep her into my arms as soon as I reach her.
“You played great!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You and Adam both scored a goal! And you didn’t even need an assistant!”
“Only because you were here,” I say, smacking a kiss to her lips.
“Get a room,” Blaine groans on his way by, Cora trying to keep up with his long strides.
Sue-Ann gives her a wave as the two of them disappear into the crowd.
“I sat next to Cora. She’s so sweet. I really like her.”
“Everyone does. She’s good people. I don’t understand why Blaine doesn’t just ask her out already. They both keep whining about friends and friends can’t date friends and blah blah blah. Look at us. We were friends first, weren’t we?”
She tugs her lower lip between her teeth. “Yeah, but we have crazy chemistry. What if Cora and Blaine don’t have that or don’t feel it?”
I make a clucking sound with my tongue. “Um… about that. He chokes the chicken to images of her and her naughty librarian look.”
Sue-Ann’s eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”
I drape my arm around her shoulders, deliberately caressing her through the embroidered letters of my name on her back. I love seeing her in my jersey, marking her as mine. The hottest, smartest, and most successful chick in the damn arena. “He might have admitted it to me one night during a drunken bender. You should have heard him talking about Cora like she hung the moon. He’s got it bad. I don’t think he’s ever even had a girlfriend, just chicks on occasion to get his rocks off. It’s pathetic. Cora’s so high on a pedestal in that guy’s mind no other woman can measure up.”
Sue wraps her arm around my waist, those magic fingertips hovering dangerously close to the waistband of my dress slacks. “What’s pathetic is that she feels the same about him. She didn’t say the actual words, but a woman knows when another woman has caught feelings for a man. It was all in her expressions and her body language. She’s into him too. Do you think we can get them together?”
I shake my head once we reach my truck and help Sue-Ann up into it. “Nah, we’ve got to let them work it out on their own and in their own time. Wasn’t it The Supremes who said that you can’t hurry love?”
“How do you know about the Supremes?” she asks, turning in her seat to look at me.
Gamed (Minnesota Caribou Book 4) Page 14
