Page 6 of Hotshot

Micah pushed the pitcher out of my reach and glanced at MK. “Are you taking the lightweight home?”

“Yep, I got him.” MK furrowed her brow and whispered, “You okay?”

I beamed, swaying slightly on my stool. “I’m great.”

“Hmm. I have to coach tomorrow morning, so…if you’re ready, I’ll drive you.”

I nodded. “Okay, I can say hi now.”

“To who?”

“You know…” I motioned for her to come closer and probably would have confessed that I was crushing pretty hard on the guy at the bar, but the room started to spin just as a wave of heat engulfed my face. “Iz me or is it really warm in here?”

MK patted my arm. “Let’s go, big guy.”

I said my good-byes, grabbed my jacket, and followed MK.

This was perfect. I could walk up to the stranger at the bar and say, “Yo, stranger. You’re hot.”

Ha! No, just kidding. I would never, ever, ever… But I could practice being social in a normal way and go with, “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

Nah, that sounded like a cheesy pickup line. I could do better than that.

“Good night, Denny.” Mr. Kinney shoved his hand at me, congratulated me on my season, and basically said a lot of words that smooshed together in my brain. I smiled a lot and thanked him, scanning the bar for the cowboy and?—

He was gone.What the fuck?

“Denny?”

“Uh, yeah. Coming.” I took one last look as I stepped under the black awning, shivering at the blast of frigid winter air. “Geez, it’s cold out here. But it was hot in there and this feels better. Mush better.”

MK wiggled her fingers meaningfully. “Keys.”

I tossed her the keys to the ancient Bronco I’d bought my sophomore year of college with money I’d earned from coaching at the youth camp. This was my Elmwood ride. I had a brand-new, tricked out SUV in Denver courtesy of my NHL contract, but my Bronco was perfect for cruising around at home.

I slid into the passenger seat, glancing toward the bar at the sound of the creaking door, then at MK. “What’s wrong?”

She grinned. “You’re zazzled.”

I busted up laughing. “Zazzled! I like that word. What does it mean?”

“It means you’re drunk.”

“Nah, I’m just a little tipsy.”

“Just a little, huh? That’s cute. Drunk Denny is fun and chatty,” she singsonged playfully. “He tells all the secrets.”

I frowned.Shit.What did I say?

“I do?”

She chuckled. “No, you reminisce about the good ol’ days.”

“Oh, that’s ’cause I don’t have any secrets,” I lied.

Mary-Kate turned on the engine, blasting the Bronco’s heaters and fiddling with the radio as if it were her own. Made sense. She liked driving more than I did. I used to hand over my keys and let her take over when we were in high school and college. We’d explore every inch of the forest, parking on deserted country roads and hiking for miles, and just…talking.

She was my best friend in the world and that wasn’t going to change, but navigating our “ex” status was an odd one.