Page 99 of Forbidden Hockey

Me

Don’t worry, killer. You firmly belong in my bed now. No more broom closet for us.

Although I’m gonna kinda miss those days. I loved pulling him into secret places and defiling him.

Pretty Boy

I love belonging in your bed.

Christmas was two months ago; it’s been way too long.

Me

There’s one more thing. Can I tell you over the phone?

Pretty Boy

Yeah, babe. Might be hard to get a phone call in until we’re back in Kelowna. Can it wait?

They’ll be there in three days. Maybe I’ll even see if I can prolong telling him until we’re together again. It’ll give me time to process this clusterfuck.

Me

Yeah. It can wait.

Chapter

Seventeen

March

Trav

I’m here because I’m a jealous man. I have only myself to blame.

“You can never breathe a word about this, Elkington,” I threaten.

Maxwell smiles demurely, entertained by my reluctance. “A man never divulges another man’s beauty secrets.” He swings the door open, gesturing me on ahead of him. Everything gleams, including the front desk staff who give me a questionable look—fair, they must be wondering how the beast before them escaped from the Vancouver Zoo—but light the fuck up when they set their gazes on Maxwell.

“Mayor Elkington, we’ve booked your preferred therapists and estheticians.”

“And I appreciate it, but I insist you pair my friend with them. I want Travis, here, to have an epic spa experience. It’shis first time,” he says, and I detect the faintest undercurrent of amusement. It couldn’t be more obvious that it’s my first time.

Now that they know I’m with Elkington and didn’t wander in off the street, I’m treated to the same glowing smiles.

“You must be Mr. Nolan. We have a robe for you right this way.”

I arch a brow at Maxwell. “Robe?”

“Go with it, Nolan. I promise, when you leave here, you’ll have ten years off that roguish face of yours.”

That is the goal. Looking younger.Sigh.I noticed the passionate fandom Dirk seems to have collected this season. Has he always had it, and I failed to notice? Or is it due to the sudden influx of college hockey romance books to hit the market? Hard to say. But even though the league Dirk plays for isn’t a college league, they’re in that age range, so it seems to count.

Anyway, he’s been noticed in a big way. Lots of beautiful young men and women with signs bearing Dirk’s name and jersey number three. The irrational fear that he’d explore other options, his own age, haunted me until I found myself texting Maxwell, asking about moisturizer creams—aka, the extent of my knowledge on skincare.

Instead of a reply with a recommendation, I got a date and time to meet him at this spa. Why didn’t I tell him to fuck right off? Because my gorgeous boyfriend-husband sent me nudes, and a little voice told me it couldn’t hurt to give this a shot.

I didn’t realize Maxwell and I would be doing this together.