Page 28 of Forbidden Hockey

One night after being deep in the weeds for four hours, she holds out her fist for a bump. I knock knuckles with her.

“That was killer, Boulder. Glad to be in the trenches with you. Treat you to a beer after?”

“Sure.”

Jack’s the closer, so we order beers off him, and sit at the table in the back, where the staff usually hangs out after work. Others will likely join when they’re finished.

We cheers our pints. “I was intimidated to work with you,” she says.

I frown. “Why?”

“Travis. He speaks highly of you, and I was kinda worried I’d get fired if I looked at you the wrong way.”

“He talks about me?”

“And there it is, I fucking knew it.”

“There what is?”

“That smile—same one he has when your name comes up.”

I’m caught in the middle of ice-cold panic and over-the-moon elation. I run a hand through my hair, taking off my hat to do it. I’ve gotta get this cut or Hunter’s gonna have a bird.

“Um, it’s nothing … what else did he say?” I can’t help myself. Everything seemed business as usual when I got back, well, for him. I thought it was understood we were finally gonna let whatever thing this was between us fade into the background. But he was talking about me? Enough that she was afraid to look at me wrong?

She grins. “Oh, just,” she clears her throat, lowering her voice. “Don’t organize the bar prep like that or Dirk’ll flip. He likes things a certain way. You can have Sunday opens until Dirk gets home, those shifts are his. Your son is three? That’s Dirk’s hockey number. Dirk’s the same way as you if he doesn’t get enough coffee—he doesn’t know this, but I keep filling his mug, and then I switch it to decaf halfway through shift, hoping for the placebo effect.”

Bastard. I knew he fucking did that.

“Um…” My face heats. We’re so busted. Sophia’s a smart woman. I can lie, but she’ll know, plus, I don’t think she’ll tell anyone. I want to hear about all the fucking cheesy crush-type shit he babbles to her, and I’ll miss out if I start denying. I can’t even picture it—Trav’s so not the babbling kind. “Please don’t tell anyone. We know we can’t do anything about it, and I swear we won’t.”

Her brows press together. “Why?”

I list the reasons off. “He’s my best friend’s dad, there are twenty years between us, my older brother will fucking kill me.”

“That best friend over there?” She points to Dash. She knows Dash.

I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

“He’ll get over it, and so will your brother.”

Ha! She doesn’t know Hunt. “What about the age gap?”

She shrugs. “The people who mind don’t matter and the people who matter don’t mind.”

“Get that one off The Gram, didja?”

“It’s true. Tell you what, I’m moving back east at the end of the summer, which makes me the perfect person to vent to—if you want.” She downs her beer and tosses some cash on the table. “But I should get home. Besides my son, Trav looks like he’s thinking about all the ways he can legally fire me without cause.” She laughs. “Night, Boulder.”

She leaves. Trav can’t be?—

I turn. Oh shit, he’s on his way over here. I can’t contain the smile. Does he think I have a crush on Sophia? The man—apparently—knows seven hundred tiny details about me. Did he miss the part where I’ve never been with a woman? I’m gonna have so much fucking fun with this.

He signals to Jack to bring him his usual—a dirty whiskey on ice, two olives—and makes himself comfortable in the bench seat across from me.

“Yeah, Trav?” I smirk.

“How’s Sophia?”