Page 1 of Hockey Halloween

Ford

You know what totally sucks? Being stuck in a crowded club during Halloween weekend when all you want to do is rewatch The Mummy in your hotel room while eating your weight in junk food.

So what if it's the beginning of the season and the team nutritionist would hang you from your balls if they only knew what you ate in secret.

But here I am, both bored and irritated, thanks to my teammates who promised a night out in Manhattan would be “so much fun”. Sure, there are worse ways to spend your night off, but I’m not feeling it. Not at all.

A guy dressed as a slice of New York pizza shoves past me, nearly knocking me over. If that doesn’t sum up how random tonight is, I don’t know what does.

Adjusting the blue bandana around my neck, I glance across the dance floor.

My linemates, Beck and Lloyd, are living it up; laughing and taking selfies with mostly female fans who clearly recognize them.

They love the spotlight while I usually assume women have ulterior motives, keeping my distance in situations like this.

It's been over a year since I last had sex, for fuck’s sake.

Maybe that’s part of the problem…or maybe I’m just not in the mood. Yeah, that’s it.

Scanning the room, I don’t see Westerholm, the right winger of our first line. Last I saw him, he was chatting up a dark-haired woman in red. If he ditched without a word, I’ll be pissed.

I’m about to finish my drink and bail myself when a sweet, feminine voice on my left cuts through the noise of a busy club.

“Nice costume. Let me guess...are you Rick?”

I turn towards the speaker, finding myself face-to-face with a stunning, curvy blonde in a short, figure-hugging white dress. She has lots of gold-colored jewelry on and her limbs are wrapped in bandages, making her a mummy. That’s surprisingly fitting, considering my costume.

Her brown eyes crinkle at the corners as she adjusts a stray strip of fabric dangling from her arm. For the first time in ages, a flicker of interest grows deep inside me.

“He was my inspiration. Even if someone called me Indiana Jones instead.” I lean against the bar. “And you must be my new nemesis?”

Her laugh is quick and genuine. “Oh, you get points for that.” She tilts her head, sizing me up. “Can I ask you something?”

Well, shit. She must have recognized me. Here we go.

“Shoot,” I mumble, ready to be disappointed.

“Did you pick that costume because you like The Mummy , or was it an excuse to look cool?”

Thank god she didn’t ask what I do or how much money one season makes.

“What’s wrong with looking cool?” I counter.

She rolls her eyes playfully in mock exasperation. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Taking a sip of my beer, I play along. “Fine. I’ll admit it; I’m a big fan of the movie. The history behind it, the action scenes, the Brendan Fraser of it all. What’s not to love?”

She lights up. “God, finally. Someone who gets it. I’ve spent years defending that movie.”

“You’ve been hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

“I knew I liked you.” She winks.

I smile and gesture toward the bartender. “Can I get you something? Not embalming fluid, I promise. ”

“Dealer’s choice,” she says, resting her chin on her hand. “As long as it’s not something blue or glowing.”

“I’ll see what I can do. By the way, I’m Ford. Nolan Ford.”

“Very Bondesque of you,” she comments, showing not a flicker of recognition at my name. “I’m Willa. Willa Somerset.”

“Lovely to meet you, Willa.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Nolan.”

I can’t remember the last time someone other than my family used my first name, but it sounds marvelous coming from her.

While the bartender works on our order, we fall into an easy conversation about the movie. We trade our favorite scenes, complain about the historical inaccuracies, argue playfully about sequels, and fangirl over Brendan Fraser.

“Seeing him together with Rachel Weisz was totally my bisexual awakening as a teen,” Willa shares. “When I swear that movie changed my life, I mean it.”

Her honesty makes me laugh freely. “I don’t normally find men attractive in that way, but I can totally see it.”

Her lips curve into a sly smile. The bartender slides our drinks over—two Old Fashioneds, each with a clear ice cube and a thin orange peel—and I hand Willa her glass.

Raising mine, I toast, “To unexpected meetings.”

“To wrong dates and the right company,” she counters, clinking her glass to mine.

I pause mid-sip as her words sink in. “So, if you weren’t expecting me, who were you expecting?”

Willa shrugs, her expression cheeky. “Some guy my friends set me up with. I was told he’d be waiting at the bar, dressed in a costume that matches mine. But honestly, fate did me a favor sending you my way instead.”

“Well,” I say, my tone warm, “I’m more than happy to play the part of your date.”

“What exactly does that entail?”

“Oh, you know. A little adventure, a little danger. Maybe rescuing you from a curse or two,” I reply. “If things go sideways, I’ll channel my inner Rick. ”

She grins. “How ambitious of you.”

“I aim to impress.”

“I’m game if you are.” She takes a slow sip of her drink, then sets the glass down. “Okay, Nolan Ford. Tell me something real.”

That catches me off guard. “Real?”

“Yeah. Something honest. No movie references or smooth lines.”

I glance at the drink in my hand, then back at her. I don’t want to talk about hockey right now, so I have to pick something else.

“Alright. I have two little sisters from my dad’s second marriage. They’re fifteen and seventeen years younger than me. I FaceTime them every day, especially when I travel. They’re absolute gremlins who live to make fun of me. I still wouldn’t trade them for anything.”

Willa’s eyes light up. “Now that’s adorable. I have an older brother who’s too nice to tease me.”

“Good to know. Guess what those two did last week?”

“It could be anything. I know how vicious teen girls can be.”

“They Photoshopped my face onto a freaking garden gnome and made it their phone wallpaper.”

She smiles, the expression warm and unrestrained. “That’s love right there.”

“I would call it targeted sibling bullying, but close enough.”

“Alright, your turn to pry. Ask me something beyond the basics.”

Not sure what else to ask, I start with an easy question. “Are you more of a homebody or a party animal?”

Her expression turns thoughtful. “Hmm. People assume I’m really outgoing, but in all honesty, I hate small talk. I’d rather have one deep, weird conversation than twenty shallow ones.”

“That explains why you led with bisexual awakenings and ancient curses.”

She giggles, the sound music to my ears. “Exactly. Go big or go home.”

“What if I’d answered wrong about The Mummy ?”

“Then I would've ghosted you. ”

Her pun makes me chuckle, but I still act hurt, lifting my palm to my chest. “Ruthless.”

“Effective,” she fires back, lifting her glass. “But you passed the test.”

The smile on her tempting glossy lips grows as her hypnotizing gaze lingers on mine.

There’s a growing spark between us, humming beneath the surface.

Our banter is surprisingly fun, too. For the first time tonight, I’m not itching to leave or counting the hours until we fly to California.

I’m just here, in the moment, talking with a mesmerizing woman who makes tonight bearable.

And honestly? I’m okay with that. More than okay.