He finishes chewing before he replies. “Why?”
“You need to get a good night's sleep tonight. I won’t be responsible for messing up your first playoff game because I kept you up with these.” I motion to my rack.
“I sleep best when my head is resting on your delicate pillows of love.”
I roll my eyes. “You can snuggle with them after dinner, but me and the girls are going home at nine.”
“That’s less than two hours from now.” Alex shoves his plate aside, picks me up out of my chair, and slings me over his shoulder. “Dinner’s over.” He takes the stairs at a run.
Two and a half hours later, I’m fully dressed and standing at the front door. I’ve been trying to leave for the past twenty minutes. Alex is having some difficulty letting me go.
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss the dimple on his left cheek. “I’ll stay tomorrow night.”
“Since we’re into playoffs, I was thinking maybe you’d reconsider moving in.”
I smile. “I thought we were going to talk about it after playoffs were over.”
“No. You said you’d talk about it after playoffs are over, not me. You’ve stayed here the past six nights. You might as well keep staying and make it permanent.”
I can’t understand why he’s pushing now. “So we have Dick’s seal of approval?”
“I don’t need Dick’s seal of anything. Are you considering it?”
“You’re impossible.”
“I prefer the term tenacious.”
“I’ll call you before the game tomorrow.” I wait for him to kiss me for the seventy-fifth time. It takes another ten minutes to get out the door, but I don’t mind.
The following evening, Charlene comes to my place and we all pile into Sidney’s Hummer, excited to be front and center for game one of the playoffs. The stadium is buzzing with exhilaration.
I’m currently staring at the back of Alex’s head while Charlene moans about Darren’s hotness. Charlene and Darren have been out a bunch of times since returning from Toronto. It’s been all over the gossip rags, which is a nice distraction from the less positive attention Alex and I have been receiving. The hockey fanatics are shocked. Darren has never been captured with anyone except his fans. He and Charlene spending time together makes for good publicity. He’s getting a lot more press on and off the ice. Charlene pretends she isn’t fazed at all by the attention; however, it did take her two hours and twelve wardrobe changes to get ready for the game.
“Just look at him.” Charlene sighs as Darren skates across the ice.
“He’s awesome.” It’s what she wants to hear. It’s also true.
“He really is, Violet. He’s got to be the most romantic man I’ve ever met.”
She yammers on and on, but I can’t be mad at her. I’ve definitely done the same thing to her regarding Alex over the past couple of months.
Alex is on his game tonight, as is the rest of the team. No one’s messing around or getting chippy with the opposition. The focus is singular: Get the puck in the net and win the first game of the playoffs. This is a big game; it sets the tone for the series.
These boys are determined and apparently off to an awesome start—the score is two-one in favor of the Hawks at the end of the first period. Buck is high on adrenaline, seeing as this is the first time he’s ever made it to the playoffs. He keeps the puck away from the Hawks’ net. That creepy Kirk guy even manages an assist, proving you can be dodgy and an amazing hockey player at the same time. The Hawks hold their lead all the way through and run away with the game. The final score is four-one, putting the Hawks in a great position moving forward in the series.
The high is contagious, my own excitement spiraling as I absorb the state of the fans around me. Interviews are being televised on the big screens after the win, and the entertainment bulldogs are all over the team. The roar of the crowd makes it difficult to hear. Reporters fire questions at Alex.
“Two game suspension earlier in the season . . .”
“Reflects on you as the captain . . .”
“Sexiest bachelor . . .”
It’s disjointed, but the last bit catches my attention. I push forward through the crowd, hoping to hear better.
“It’s an honor to be nominated,” Alex says, running his hand through his sweaty hair.
He seems uncomfortable. A sea of people surround him, and I’m short, so he can’t see me.
Another fragmented question filters through the crowd. Dammit, I wish I could hear what they’re asking.
“. . . rumors about your relationship . . .”
Alex blinks nervously. “I thought we were going to talk about the game, not my personal life.”
Another reporter pipes up. “So the rumors are true?”