Page 22 of Lucky Shot (Moonshot Hockey #1)

A smile tips up both sides of his mouth. “Nothing bad. Just that you’re interviewing Nick for a book you’re writing.”

“I am,” I confirm.

“Are you a hockey player too?” I ask, even though he’s wearing a shirt that suggests so.

He nods.

“Penn is our goalie,” Nick tells me, then adds, “You can play with me.”

“Oh, interesting,” I say to the less grumpy man beside me. It’s a real standoff between these two but with Penn, at least I don’t feel like it’s aimed at me. “I love your gear.”

Everyone goes quiet, then Mike breaks the silence with a chuckle. “Now that’s a compliment he doesn’t hear every day.”

The tips of my ears get hot as the rest of the guys join in laughing.

I glance at Penn, realizing I may have just insulted him or inadvertently hit on him. “Sorry. I’m still learning the sport.”

“Nah.” Penn gives me another smile. “The gear is cool, right?”

I nod with relief that he doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of hockey knowledge. “Accessories were always my favorite part of sports.”

Mike shuffles the cards and deals them. Nick nods for me to pick his up, so I do.

“Oooh.” I smile at the two aces. I don’t know much about poker, but I think I remember aces being good.

“First rule of poker,” Nick says, reaching over and dragging my chair closer to him. My skin prickles at the heat of him beside me. “Learning how to keep a poker face.”

His arm brushes mine and I move my leg, so our knees don’t knock under the table.

“Right.” I force my lips into a neutral line. “Better?”

Nick’s gaze drops to my mouth, lingering a beat before he looks away.

“Yep,” he says in his usual gruff, annoyed tone.

Around the table, the men glance at their cards, then place them on the table facedown. I do the same.

On my left, Penn tosses in a chip.

“Should I do that too?” I ask Nick.

“No. We already did. He’s the big blind.”

I raise a brow in question.

“The big blind is two seats to the left of the dealer. The small blind is one seat to the left. They have to put in forced bets before seeing their cards. We don’t.”

“Got it,” I say with confidence, filing away the information. Maybe it’s my inherent personality or maybe it’s something about wanting to prove myself to Nick, but I am determined to be an A-plus student. “What kind of hand would I fold?”

It seems like the most logical question, but the way Nick’s shoulders lift and fall in a sigh, you’d think I asked why the sky is blue.

“Let me guess.” I grin at him. “It depends?”

He lets out a surprised chuckle that transforms his face. “Exactly.”

We play several rounds. I learn terms like bet, raise, call, and fold—all fairly self-explanatory. And ones that make less sense like “river” and “boat.” Once we get going, Nick is more patient with me than I expect, sort of like he is with the kids at camp.

It’s hard to be stealthy and talk out our hand without the others overhearing. I lean in close enough that his scent wraps around me. Fabric softener and sandalwood. It’s nice.

It’s our deal. Nick hands me the cards. I grin as I take them. I’ve shuffled cards before, but it has been a long time, and I’ve never done it the way they are.

“Place your hands like this.” He sets his over mine and adjusts until I’m in the right position. The size of his big hands next to mine is striking.

“Everything is so secretive in poker,” I say as I attempt to shuffle so that no one can see the cards.

His lips quirk up higher on one side. “That’s what makes it fun. You have to read the players.”

“Can you read me?” I ask the group as I deal.

Mike grins. “You’re a wildcard, sweetheart.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, expecting another poker phrase that I’ll need to add to my overflowing dictionary of terms. This game has a lot of rules.

“Some players, especially new ones, are easy to read, but they don’t tend to act in the way a more seasoned player would,” Danny says.

“Easy to read their cards, but hard as hell to play against,” Travis adds with a frown. He tosses his cards onto the table. “I fold. Ruby-Doo was grinning too big when she looked at her cards.”

Oops. I school my expression back into serious mode, then think back to seeing a poker tournament on TV once. I glance up at the hat on Nick’s head.

I lean closer to him. His brows inch higher as my shoulder brushes his chest.

“Give me your hat,” I whisper, though not quietly enough that the others don’t hear.

Mike and Travis chuckle. Nick rears back like I asked him for the password to his bank account.

“I’m giving us away,” I say and wave my hand toward the guys, each of them folding as they take their turns.

Reluctantly, and frowning like it’s his job, Nick takes off his hat and places it onto my head. It’s too big and falls over my eyes.

I tip my chin up so I can meet his gaze. “Better? Do I look like you now?”

I smash my lips together and try to look as grumpy and broody as him.

His lips split into a smile, and he gives his head a shake as he huffs a small laugh. The reaction lights me up. There’s something very satisfying about making the grumpy hockey player laugh.

“Spot-on impression,” Conrad says.

“Nick could never pull off a midriff shirt,” Travis adds.

“Better than you could,” Nick fights back.

“Keep your clothes on, Galaxy.” Penn smirks.

I look between them and beam. “Oh my god. You’re both smiling!”

Everyone else except Nick and Penn laugh.

Penn’s lips twitch with amusement, and when I glance back at Nick, he’s shaking his head at me again.

He reaches out and lifts the brim of his hat so it sits higher on my forehead.

Absently, his pinky brushes my hair out of my eyes.

His hand lingers there a moment and electricity zips through me.

“Whose deal is it?” Mike asks.

Nick’s hand drops and his body tenses as if he’s suddenly become aware of his actions.

It takes a few more hands until I finally feel like I’m getting the hang of it, and they deal me in my own cards.

I’m terrible at calculating odds and all the other things that Nick instructed me as being important when considering your hand, but I’ve had decent luck flying by the seat of my pants.

I spend my time trying to read everyone, like they claimed to be able to do with me.

Unsurprisingly, Nick and Penn are the hardest to read.

I’m staring at the now hatless man to my right when it’s his turn. He’s stoic and almost robotic in his movements. If he has a tell, I haven’t figured it out yet.

Nick raises on his turn and relaxes back in his chair. He must feel my stare because he slides his gaze to me. “What?”

I narrow my gaze. “Nothing.”

His dark brow lifts in challenge as I continue to burn a hole through his face. Is he bluffing?

I take one more glimpse at my cards then decide to fold.

“Me too,” Penn says as he slides his cards to the center of the table. Only then does Nick smirk. It’s small and it’s gone nearly as quickly as it happened, but my jaw drops in surprise. He was totally bluffing!

“I should get home before you all cheat me out of the rest of my money,” Travis says.

“The way you’re playing tonight, you’re practically giving it away,” Danny retorts.

“I should go too,” Conrad says.

“Is that the time?” Mike asks, holding his phone out and tipping his head back as if getting a good look. He stands. “It’s way past my bedtime. Thanks for the game, boys.”

Travis and Conrad stand, then Danny.

Nick reaches for the cards. “Penn?”

“I’m going to head out too.” The big guy pushes back from his chair and stands.

He’s taller than I originally thought. He adjusts his hat on his head, lifting it, running his fingers through his light-brown hair, then placing the hat back on.

“Are we still on for running around the lake tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.” Nick dips his head with a nod. “I’ll meet you at mile marker one at five.”

Penn nods—two nodding, stoic, grumpy men. I think they probably have entire conversations without using more than a dozen words.

“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” Penn says.

“You too.”

The men all say their goodbyes. Conrad and Danny wave to me as they start for the stairs. Travis pulls me into a hug that makes my bones creak.

“Later, Ruby-Doo.” He shoots a smirk at Nick on his way out. Mike trails after him, leaving me with Nick.

I help him put the poker chips away. The room is quiet with only our movements proving noise. Aidan’s asleep on the couch, cuddling with his guitar.

“Thanks for letting me join in,” I say. “It was fun.”

“You say that like you didn’t expect it to be.”

“I expected you to glower at me all night for invading your guys’ night.”

He lifts that brow. The man has expressive eyebrows that make up for his mouth rarely moving.

“I don’t glower at you,” he says in a grumpy tone accompanied by said glower.

A laugh bubbles up in my chest. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up to snap a photo.

“What are you doing?” he asks, after blinking several times.

“Proving that you glower at me.” I walk over and show him the screen of my phone. He studies it for a few moments and then his gaze slowly flicks to me.

“No comment?” I ask as I pocket my phone again with smug satisfaction.

“That’s just my face,” he mumbles. “I was trying to save you from hanging out with a bunch of dudes who want to ogle you.”

“They were not ogling me. If anything, they felt sorry for me.”

He huffs a sound that I think is his disagreement. I glance down at my outfit. “I’m wearing an old tube top that belonged to my mother when she was my age, and these shorts are from a secondhand store.”

They were already worn in and soft, but there’s an ink stain on the crotch that has always perplexed me. It’s only visible to me so it’s not a big deal, but how does one get ink in that particular spot?

He continues to look at me like he’s unable to comprehend my words. I lift my brows in silent question.

He sighs like I’m the most annoying person he’s ever met.

I’ve never had someone dislike me so much.

In fact, I’d say people generally like me very much.

I spent most of my twenties saying or doing little to make waves.

I was too busy writing and working toward my dreams to be controversial.

No one knew me. If they didn’t like me, it was based on what they thought they knew and not the person I was.

But with Nick, I have been unapologetically myself. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I’m too tired to put on any pretense or maybe there’s something about him that makes me want to push back.

Whatever it is, I like this version of me.

“You’re beautiful.” He says it so dispassionately that I wonder if I heard him correctly.

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t care about your clothes. You’re a beautiful woman and they were drooling all over you.”

My cheeks flush despite the way he seems to not care that I am, as he put it, beautiful. Like, oh Ruby? She’s beautiful but meh, I’m not into beautiful girls. Which only makes me wonder what kind of woman is Nick into?

“No, they weren’t,” I insist once I’ve recovered.

I get another gruff noise of disagreement.

“They weren’t,” I say again.

He shakes his head. “If I’d begged off with an excuse that I was going to clean, no one would have tried to change my mind.”

“Well, I’m nicer than you.”

Oops. Did I say that out loud? My face flames warmer as I give him a shy, slightly apologetic smile.

Almost in slow motion, his lips pull up on either side. “No doubt about that.”

His grin makes my pulse race more than the compliment had. We keep staring and smiling at each other and my body lights up everywhere. The front door closes upstairs, effectively snapping us out of our stare off.

He looks away first and then we fall back into picking up and putting away the cards and chips. Once everything is in place, we look at each other again.

I’m surprised by my reluctance to leave. Maybe if I stick around, he’ll accidentally compliment me again. This is what my life has come to, hoping this grumpy man will compliment me in the most unaffected way possible. Big sigh.

“I’m going to head back to my side of the property.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. “Where no one can ogle me.”

He huffs another one of those small laughs. I can’t get enough of that noise from him.

“Thanks for the poker lessons.”

“You’re a quick learner.”

Another compliment. I’m practically floating.

I take a step backward, still watching him, then remember I’m still wearing his hat. I take it off and slowly walk toward him. “If only I were writing a book about poker instead of hockey.”

His brows pinch together like maybe he wishes that too. Hockey has not come quite as easy to me. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.” Seriously, I need to get out of here. The room doesn’t have enough oxygen for the both of us. I lift up on my toes and place the hat on his head, then turn it to the side. Even like this he’s hot.

He adjusts the hat, watching me as I step back to the stairs. “Don’t forget your cleaning supplies.”

“Right.” I grab the spray and rag, then we continue to face each other, lingering. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this grumpy man wants me to stay as much as I do. What a strange development.

A warm, fuzzy feeling bubbles under my skin. “I’ll bring it back tomorrow. Promise.”

His chin lifts in acknowledgment but doesn’t offer me any quippy remark to give me a reason to keep bantering with him. Pity.

I finally turn to leave. I don’t look back, but I swear I can feel his gaze on me as I go.