He grinned, seemingly amused.
“You want some fuckin’ street hockey?” I challenged, giving him a hard shove.
“Someone’s feeling threatened.”
I laughed humorlessly and threw my stick to the ice. “Come on, motherfucker.”
Orion was looking at something on his clipboard and hadn’t seen us yet. Even if he did, he believed in letting teammates settle things on the ice.
Killian slid to a stop next to us, his skates throwing snow. He met my eyes in a silent question.
“Come on,” I said to Walker. “You want some?”
He glanced from side to side before hooking his stick around the puck. I grabbed his yellow practice shirt and pulled him back before he could escape.
“No dirty shit at practice,” I said. “Play on your line and don’t start shit with mine.”
“Let’s go, boys!” Orion yelled.
Killian handed me my stick. I turned to restart the drill and felt Walker’s weight barreling into me. I hit the half-wall in front of the bench and flipped over it.
“Oh, shit,” Walker said. He jumped over the wall and bent down next to me. “I’m sorry. That was an accident, I swear. I slipped.”
My head had bounced off the bench, knocking the wind out of me. I shook away the dizziness and got up, glaring at him.
“It was an accident, man,” Killian said. “Dumbass wasn’t paying attention.”
“I’m in the mood for a fight,” I said to Walker. “Don’t give me any more reasons to start one with you.”
He just nodded and skated off. Liam came over and slid to a fast stop.
“What’s his fuckin’ issue?” he asked. “He looks like he’s about to puke.”
“He’s just nervous,” Killian said. “Back to work, guys.”
I grabbed my water from the bench and liberally squirted my face, trying to forget about the dull ache I now had in the back of my head from the fall.
I was pent up, and a fight would help release some of my tension. I hadn’t gotten laid in three damned months. My closest shot with Charlotte since our one night together had been ruined by her stupid fucking roommate, and I’d ended up playing board games with the two of them until she’d gone to bed and I’d left. Then I’d had to leave early the next morning for a road trip. And finally, today, I’d get to see her again. We were meeting for lunch.
As soon as practice was over, I took my phone from my locker and checked it. We’d had a long one, and I’d missed a text from Charlotte at 8:45.
Charlotte: Can you maybe pick me up for lunch? My car wouldn’t start this morning and I had to take a cab to work.
I dried off my sweaty palms on a towel and sat down on the bench to write back.
Me: Yeah, sure. Want me to have a look at the car too?
She didn’t write back right away, so I took a shower. When I got out and dried off, she’d written back.
Charlotte: Are you good with cars?
Me: Decent. My dad worked his way through college as a mechanic.
Charlotte: Then yes, please.
Me: Pick you up at noon?
Charlotte: Yes. See you soon.
She was waiting for me outside the courthouse when I pulled up, and we went to a downtown deli for soup and sandwiches. Charlotte talked about her morning at work as she pulled small bites from her grilled cheese sandwich and slowly ate them.
“It was the first time a defendant has hit on me during a court proceeding,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“He said that during the hearing? That you two should find a quiet place to get to know each other better?”
“Yeah, and then he leered at me.”
“Leered?”
“He totally leered.”
I squinted skeptically. “I’m not visualizing this. What’d the leer look like?”
She lowered her brows and did a half smolder, half pout. I busted out laughing.
“That’s what he looked like,” she said, smiling. “And his attorney was trying to make him stop.”
“So what happened next?”
She shrugged. “We went into a side room and I blew him.”
“Funny shit, Holloway,” I said, jealousy rising inside me even though I knew she was kidding.
“The judge jailed him for contempt,” she said. “Don’t worry, my purity remains intact.”
“As intact as a pregnant woman’s purity can be,” I said, winking.
She laughed and dropped a bite of her sandwich into her soup, stirring it in slowly. “True. But I’ve been pure since the night we conceived our little nugget.”
I exhaled deeply. “Me too.”
“Really?” She looked taken aback.
“Really.”
“Well, damn. Look at us. I’m guessing your chances of scoring are better than mine.”
I shrugged and met her eyes across the table. “I’ve been hoping we could score at the same time, if you know what I mean.”
Her cheeks pinked as she looked down at her food. “The other night, I thought . . . I mean, I was starting to . . .”
“Me too. James is not only an annoying dipshit, he’s also a cockblocker.”
She sighed softly. “Maybe next time. I’ll be at your game Friday night.”
I felt a surge of pride at the thought of her watching me play from the stands.