“Yeah, not ready for retirement yet. Just worked my ass off to get back to playing. I’m good for another ten years at least,” he boasted.
He could be right. When Hallsy’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, he’d taken some time off from the game, and it had turned into more than a season after she’d passed away. He’d needed that time, but it had definitely set him back when it came to playing one of the most grueling sports in the world. He had worked hard to get back in shape. He’d made an amazing comeback and was keeping up with kids a lot younger than him. Nick had mad respect for Hallsy’s determination and dedication.
“Help yourself to food.” Kendra waved a hand at the dining table loaded with platters and bowls of all kinds of snacks.
Nick grinned at the balloons above the table that read DIRTY 30. “Fitting.”
Kendra grinned. “I thought so.”
Nick moved over to the table and picked up a plate. He selected a few items—some meatballs, veggies, bacon-wrapped scallops. Those stuffed mushrooms looked awesome, so he grabbed a couple of those too. He moved to a corner of the room, standing by himself as the party went on.
Movement at his feet caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Molly, Hallsy’s puppy. She sat gazing up at him with big brown puppy eyes, tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Hi, dog,” he said. “What do you want?”
The dog didn’t answer.
“Food, huh?” Sure, he could have a conversation with a dog. Why not. “How about a meatball?” He selected one of the small balls and held it up. Molly’s ears perked, and her spine straightened. “How’re your catching skills?”
He tossed the meatball to the dog. She watched it hit the floor.
“Damn, need some work,” he murmured.
Molly sniffed the meat then scarfed it down, resuming her sitting pose to gaze at him imploringly once more.
He bent to wipe the sauce off the hardwood floor with a paper napkin. “Probably shouldn’t do this,” he muttered. “But you’re kinda cute. Try harder this time.” He tossed a meatball again, and this time Molly caught it. “Hey, good girl.” He felt unreasonably pleased, considering he didn’t really even like dogs. Or cats. Or kids. Or adults, for that matter.
“You probably shouldn’t be feeding her people food.”
Nick started and glanced to his left where a woman stood holding a glass of red wine.
Busted.
He eyed her. He didn’t know who she was—dating one of the young guys maybe? He couldn’t help but glance at her left hand. No ring.
She was pretty enough, although big dark-framed glasses hid half her face. Okay, not really. Looking closer, she had nice enough eyes behind the hipster glasses. Her mouth, though, was hot—full-lipped, with up-tilted corners. Messy brown waves brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.” She smiled.
“It’s meat. It won’t hurt her.”
She looked down at Molly, still shamelessly begging. “Molly, you’re so cute. It’s hard to resist giving you whatever you want.” She handed the dog a little piece of cheese from the table.
“Hey.”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “She’s adorable.” She set her drink down, bent, and picked up the puppy, cuddling her and letting her lick her chin. “Aren’t you adorable, you little mooch.”
He watched Molly lavish affection on the woman as if she knew her and loved her. Huh.
“I’m Jodie.” The woman extended a hand. “A friend of Kendra’s.”
Right, right. He was a tool. Introductions were polite. “Nick. Nick Balachov.” He set his plate down on the table and took her hand to shake it. As his fingers closed around hers, he was struck by how soft and delicate her hand felt in his, yet her grip was firm and strong.
“Nice to meet you, Nick.” She set Molly down and picked up her glass again. “I’ve heard Max mention you. You play hockey with him.”
“Ah, yeah.”
She smiled, apparently waiting for him to say more. Silence drew out. “Well! That’s exciting. Hockey’s a, um, crazy sport.”
He stared at her. Crazy?
“I mean, it’s very violent. I mean, physical. I don’t really know much about it, but I think there’s lots of fighting, right?”
“No.”
She blinked. “Oh. Um. Okay. I went to a game once, and there were a couple of fights.”
She went to a game once? And she was judging the whole sport on that one game? Christ. “Most games there are no fights.”
“Oh, okay. But, still, there’s a lot of hitting. Slamming each other into the boards and knocking each other down.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“It seems really scary to me.” She laughed. “But I guess not to you.”
He shook his head. She was way too chatty for him and his mood. He lifted his empty glass. “Excuse me. I need another drink.” He paused, gritting his teeth at the urge to be polite even as he gave in to it. “Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.” She held up her own glass, still half full. “I’m good.”
He gave a brusque nod and turned away, heading across the room to where the bar was. He helped himself to another Scotch. As he poured it, a burst of laughter assailed his ears and he winced, then let out a short breath.
Parties were fun, he reminded himself.
He moved toward the living room, surveying it and sipping his Scotch. He noticed the doors to the balcony and a couple of shadowy figures on it. Curious, he strolled that way and stepped outside. The evening was clear and calm, chilly but bearable. Hallsy, Duper, and Rosser were there with cigars.
“You found the cigar bar.” Hallsy held up his smoke. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Nick plucked one from a container and used the cutter on the table. Hallsy flicked a lighter and held it up for him. Nick puffed on the richly flavored stogie.
“Boosh says he’s doing better,” Duper said.
“Still not cleared for even non-contact practice though,” Nick replied glumly.
“And Gander and Rupper are both out now. Man.” Hallsy shook his head. “Why does it always seem things happen all at once?”
“And we’ve been playing well, dammit.”
The team had been doing well this year, but injuries were starting to plague them with a few guys out now. And Chaser was still struggling to score goals, playing less minutes, which meant he, Nick, was playing more. They both played left wing, and Coach had juggled the lines, moving him up to the third line to play with Rico and Brick. He knew he was a solid fourth line player, a grinder not a star goal scorer, and this extra pressure of more minutes and new line mates was weighing on him. He wanted to live up to expectations and do what he could for the team.
He worried he wasn’t capable of that.
“So has Lovey lost her mind being pregnant?” Rosser asked Duper.
Duper snorted. “Hell yeah. She says she can’t do dishes because it makes her nauseous.” He grimaced. “Well, in fairness, she has been sick a lot.”
“That sucks. Jenna has to take food every place with her, and she uses the bathroom everywhere we go in case she doesn’t get another chance. Apparently she has to pee all the time. Baby’s sitting on her bladder, or something.”
Nick winced. He didn’t really want to be part of this conversation.
“Does she get weird cravings?” Duper asked.
“Not anymore. At first she did, like, all she wanted was sauerkraut.”
“Sauerkraut? Jesus.”
“I know, right? And pickle juice. She drank it from the jar.”
Nick stared in horror.
“Yeah, I’ve made a lot of donut runs for Jenna.” Rosser shook his head. “At midnight, even.”
Hallsy stubbed out his cigar. “Well, I better get back in there.”
“Yeah.” Rosser and Duper did the same.
“Coming?” Hallsy asked Nick as he moved to the door.
“I’ll stay out here a bit longer.” Nick held up the cigar.
The air was crisp and clean, layered with the mellow scent of Nicaraguan tobacco. He moved to the short wall and looked out over the glittering city. He missed having this kind of view, but he was enjoying working on his house. He got lost in thoughts about what projects to take on next, and so the feminine voice startled him.