Page 31 of Hockey Halloween

Palmer

She says he's not her boyfriend, but he left his team during the season to come here and help her try to win this contest. So if Ryan Moore isn't dating her, he wants to be. And me buying her a drink will definitely annoy him.

We head across the ballroom together to the bar set up in the far corner. I ask her what she wants, and she orders the specialty drink. I grab another beer even though it will likely make me want to piss and tear this costume to shreds. After we get the drinks, I gently tap my glass to hers.

“So… who was the genius that picked the Scooby Gang?” she wants to know after she takes a sip.

“My teammate Theo,” I explain. It hits me I haven’t told her my name, and I also don’t know hers.

“Evil genius,” she says.

"He truly is," I agree. "And were the costumes your idea or his?"

I tip my head toward the door because that's where Ryan is currently standing, talking to Theo. She glances over at him and then turns back to me. "My idea. I bought the costumes for more money than I should have and convinced him to wear them. "

“For charity.” She nods. I sip my beer. “We don’t have any altruistic intentions for the money if we win. But we should.”

"Altruistic?" she repeats, and I can tell she knows the meaning of the word. Her shock is coming from the fact that I'm using it. "You must be one of those hockey players who got a scholarship to an Ivy and actually paid attention in classes."

"Actually, no. I went straight for the draft," I reply, and fight the urge to ask her to take off her mask. She's got amazing eyes. Mostly blue with flecks of amber and rimmed in gray. Her mouth isn't too full, but not too thin, with just the right amount of pout. "How do you know Ryan?"

“We go way back.” She’s being intentionally vague. I’m not dense.

“You live in San Diego like him?”

She shakes her head. Her costume has that full leather skin-molding hood thing that covers her forehead and goes down past her eyes.

Her chestnut hair tumbles out and falls to about her nicely round and perky boobs.

There’s not an inch of her body that isn’t on display, being that the pleather costume looks like it was painted on her bare body, and there isn’t anything I see that I don’t love. She’s gorgeous.

“I live here in Vegas.”

“Hometown?”

She shakes her head again. "I'm a kind of from all over. I was born in Boston, spent a bunch of years elsewhere. My parents divorced when I was young, and both kind of became nomads. So I've called Colorado, New York, New Jersey, Seattle, Oregon home when I wasn't in boarding school or college."

. “I went to boarding school too, but I’m from New England.”

I know a little about Ryan because I looked him up when he scored that first hat trick on me. His team bio has him born in Boston, and he went to Harvard. Maybe that's how they know each other?

She's smiling softly at me. "I wanted to go to college in New England. Vermont or Maine, but I got a scholarship to the University of Las Vegas, and that made the most sense. "

I smile. “I picked the NHL Draft over college, but I still spent my summers in New England.”

“I love New England.”

I don't tell her that after I picked the draft over college, and my parents cut me off, and I went back to my childhood camp, Magog, every summer as a counselor to sustain myself.

I went undrafted the first time I tried, and the second time I was picked but ended up on the farm team for two years before I finally got my shot at the NHL.

Her Batman was drafted in the first round when he entered the draft.

“How do you feel about men in embarrassing costumes?”

"Lucky for you, I'm developing a weakness for men in polyester," she teases back.

Her eyes drift to the left, and she swears under her breath. I feel Ryan’s negative energy before I see him lumber into view.

"Hey Hudson," Ryan says, and neither his smile nor tone is friendly as he positions himself between me and his date. "Thought I would come over and offer my condolences."

“For what?” I ask tersely and slowly sip my beer like I’m not thinking about dumping it over his smug head.

“For the fact that I’m going to chase you off the ice again.” He turns to Catwoman. “This is the goalie I was telling you about. The guy who keeps giving me epic stats.”

She rolls her eyes at him but says nothing.

"Well, I figure someone should help you out.

Last year, you struggled so hard they dropped you to the fourth line, and I'm actually surprised the Saints didn't waive you," I say, knowing I sound like a total dick, but sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.

Even though I just met her, I hope it doesn't make my mystery woman hate me.

"You're welcome, big guy, but my assistance has stopped. I’m going to block every shot you take now…” I lean into him and lower my voice so only he hears as I add, “On and off the ice.”

Ryan’s entire body stiffens. “Wha… what? You think?—”

Theo interrupts with a bark as he comes to stand beside Catwoman. He gives her a cocky grin. “Catwoman. Meow. Theo Richard aka Scooby Doo. Is Hudson solving a mystery for you? Like why is your date such a douche canoe?"

"Fuck off, Richard, you nepo baby," Ryan snaps, and Theo looks mildly offended. He hates people thinking he's only in the league because his dad was. It's entirely too low a blow for a little smack talk. Ryan glares at his costume partner. "D, can we talk? Alone."

"No," she replies. Now is that Dee the name or D the initial? I have no clue, and I don't get the chance to ask because the music fades and there's a voice booming out over the speakers asking those participating in the costume contest to approach the stage.

Ryan gives me a hard smile, wraps a hand around my pleather-covered mystery woman's arm, and tugs her away. I sigh and stare at her retreating, perfect body. She turns her head and glances over her shoulder, and our eyes lock until we can no longer see each other. We didn’t talk long, but I feel connected to her.

“Dude, it’s working better than expected,” Theo says as he waves over the rest of the group so we can all go to the stage for this. “He’s seething.”

“Yeah?” I say, and I don’t sound as eager as I thought I would. I realize I don’t care about the reason I accidentally-on-purpose started a conversation with Catwoman. I just kind of want to get to know her regardless of her connection to Ryan.

“Steam was basically coming out of his ears!” Theo laughs.

We come to a halt in a haphazard line at the edge of the stage. Evan bounces nervously beside me. “Well, she’s hot AF.”

I look up and see Ryan and Catwoman on stage together being introduced as the iconic duo Batman and Catwoman. Sadly, no one gives their real names. Half this room wouldn't vote for a San Diego Saints player on principle. And because they don't say names, I don't know who she is.

“What do you intend to do with the money if you win?” the mayor’s assistant asks. She’s MCing the night. Catwoman opens her pretty mouth to speak, but Ryan, being Ryan, moves closer to the mic and shouts, "Gonna bet it all on red, baby! This place has a craps table with my name on it!"

Yes, half her face is covered by her costume, but I can still see the light flicker out of her eyes and the smile on her face fall. Ryan leads her off the stage, waving at the crowd like he's a pageant contestant.

“What a dick move,” I mutter, shaking my head because she seemed so committed to this charity. It was clear it was the only reason she was here.

“If they laugh at us, I’m going home,” Tyson grumbles as the Ghostbusters hit the stage and we inch closer to our turn.

"They will, but it will be with us, not at us," Theo assures and adjusts his silly dog ears.

We get up on stage and pose and smile, and I can tell half the audience recognizes us, which I think will work in our favor.

Theo's antics—panting and running around like he's an actual dog—probably won't hurt either.

He's as endearing as he is ridiculous. When we get off the stage, I tell the guys I'm going to find Catwoman, and they all smile and wink like it's still some big game, but I'm honestly just going to see if she's alright.

It takes me a minute, but I find Dee, or D, or whatever.

Ryan is getting catty with Catwoman by the entrance doors.

He's really up in her face, and it gets my back up immediately.

I don't care what she's said or done. You don't tower over a woman like that, invading her personal space.

Ever. I stalk right over. "Hey," I say to her, squaring my shoulders and turning my back to him like I don't even see him there. "You want to dance?"

She whips her head up to me, and the anger in her eyes, sparking like a live wire, fades, and she smiles with gratitude. "Yes."

I reach for her hand, and of course, Ryan grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. He's not as rough as he wants to be. I can see it in his eyes. "Shouldn't you be at home watching tape of our last game? Or the one before? You know, so you can figure out how to stop my shots."

“When you score a hat trick but still lose the game, what is that called? Besides a waste of a hat?” D asks him, her eyes blazing with annoyance. “Because if I recall, you lost that game.”

The first time he handed me my ass, I got pulled in the second when we were down 4-nothing.

Tyson stepped in and did what I couldn't—stood on his head so the team could come back and win it 5-4.

It isn't a consoling fact, but I still smile at her because she means well.

Then I turn back to Ryan. "I'm not focusing on work.

I'd much rather take the most beautiful woman in here out on the dance floor. "

I reach over and take her hand in mine and turn away from Ryan. He moves so fast that the pleather on the legs of his costume squeak and then he's in front of us, blocking our path. "You can't fuck my sister."

His… sister? Oh, this just got even better.

I don't answer him. I turn to her, wrap an arm around her waist, and dip her like we're ballroom dancers. Her mouth parts in a shocked O, and as I lean over her, I hear the back of my costume tear even more, but I still lean in for the kiss.

And damn if she doesn’t knit her fingers into my hair and open her mouth and welcome me in.