“I’m sure you’re not, but still, he might not appreciate me giving out that information to someone.”
“I understand.” Of course she did. He was a big famous athlete. He did not want people giving out his address to random women. “Okay, you have my number, let him know he can call me. We can figure out a way to meet up.”
“I’m sure he’d come pick them up.”
“I don’t want to give my address out to a stranger.”
Luckily Elliott just laughed. “Understood. Okay, I’ll let him know. Thanks, Amber.”
—
Rupper showed up the next morning unannounced to take Duncan to get his truck. “You look like shit,” he informed him helpfully.
“Bite me.” Duncan had taken a few painkillers and downed a pot of coffee. The drugs and caffeine would kick in shortly, but he needed food. “We gotta stop for burgers somewhere.”
“Christ, man, you can’t eat like that before a practice. You’ll puke. Besides, they have food there for us.”
“Can’t wait that long. I’m dying. I also need root beer. I’m so dehydrated if I tried to take a piss, smoke would come out.”
Rupper laughed. “Fine. We’ll hit a drive-through.”
After doing so, Duncan scarfed down two burgers and sucked back root beer as Rupper drove.
“Where’d you park?” Rupper asked as they neared the Sin Bin.
Duncan rubbed his aching forehead. “On the street, not far down.”
Moments later, they pulled up alongside his truck.
“Here you go, lushaholic. See you at the arena.”
“Right.” Duncan hopped out and slammed the door, then reached a hand into his pocket for his keys. As he watched Rupper’s taillights disappear he realized…he had no keys.
Chapter 4
Duncan immediately called Rupper to ask him to turn around and come get him. Shaking his head, he climbed back into Rupper’s car. What a loser.
“What the fuck?” his teammate asked.
“I don’t have my keys.”
“How could you not have your keys?”
“I forgot Amber took them.”
“Who the hell is Amber?”
“She works for you, dumbass. She’s a waitress at the Sin Bin.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, Amber. She’s new.”
“Right. Anyway, I started tying one on last night and she took my keys.”
“Attagirl.” Rupper nodded approvingly.
Duncan grimaced. “I got so shitfaced I totally forgot. She still has them.”
“We can go to the Sin Bin and see if she’s working today.”
“No time. We gotta get to practice.”
Rupper glanced at the clock on the dash of his Viper. “True that. Okay, we’ll figure it out later.”
“I have another set of keys at home. Shit. Why didn’t I even think of keys before I walked out of the door?”
“It’s called a hangover. You probably killed a few brain cells last night, and you don’t have many to spare.”
“Fuck.”
Amazingly, Duncan felt better after practice. He didn’t puke on the ice, or off, for that matter, though he did start out a little shaky. But the physical activity was good for him and by the time he skated off and walked to the dressing room, he felt pretty much back to normal.
That still didn’t make him want to go to the fundraiser that night.
Once he’d showered and changed, he checked his phone. Missed call from a number he didn’t recognize, and a voicemail. Then Rupper called to him across the players’ lounge. “Hey, Armdog! Got a message from Elliott with Amber’s number so you can get your keys.”
“Excellent.” He took the number Rupper gave him. He hesitated for a few seconds before he hit the button to call her. She’d been pissed off at him last night and he still didn’t really get why. Remembered embarrassment at her rejection heated his blood. He’d really liked her, but at this moment, he’d rather take a puck in the nuts than phone her. But he shook his head and made the call.
“Hey, Amber,” he said when she answered. “Duncan Armstrong. You have my keys.”
“Right.” Her voice was crisp. “How did you get home?”
“Taxi.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Listen, I’ll come by and get them. Uh. Somehow.”
“I’m leaving for work in five minutes.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Well, then I’ll come by the Sin Bin and pick them up.”
“I’m not working there tonight. I have another job.”
“I guess picking them up there won’t work.”
“No, I’m sorry.”
He pressed his lips together in frustration. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Can you do without your car until then?”
“It’s a truck. And no, but I have another set of keys at home. I’ll get a cab and go get my truck.”
“Okay. That works. Sorry about that.”
“So, give me your address and I’ll come by tomorrow.”
Silence. “I don’t like to give my address out to strangers,” she finally said.
He frowned. “I’m not an axe murderer. Jared will vouch for me.”