Page 6 of One-Time Shot

I obeyed, assuring my place in hell for aiding and abetting.

Jett’s profile was mostly filled with action shots of him from games, sprinkled with a few random pics of food, empty ice rinks, running shoes near the lake, and one or two with a group of friends or perhaps teammates.

“This man ate lunch with Jett last week,” I said, pointing at a handsome fellow with a beard, his arm slung casually over Jett’s shoulder. They were both in uniform, and I surmised from their broad grins that they’d just won.

“Hottie alert.” Layla fanned her face. “Cross-stalk.”

“Uh…what does that mean?”

Layla cast a patient glance my way, blew on her nails again, and shooed me aside. “Let me take a crack at this.”

She tapped away, pulling up Ty Czerniak’s page, which was a bit more lively than Jett’s. Family, friends, and hockey were the themes, but there were plenty of party selfies featuring Ty and a bevy of young women, as well as a few with Jett.

I zeroed in on one with the two friends holding coffee cups, flanked on either side by two beautiful blonds. The woman next to Jett clung to his biceps possessively, and for reasons I didn’t want to examine, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

I cleared my throat. “They have coffee and hockey in common.”

“Yes, so let’s find out when these big boys caffeinate.” Layla exited the app and sent a quick text to her friend Darya, who worked at Coffee Cave.

“Oh, no…you can’t ask her that!”

“Too late. I already did.”

“Layla!”

Buzz buzz.

Layla winked. “That was fast. Darya says some members of the hockey team come by after practice for their daily cup of joe a few times a week at approximately eight fifteen a.m. You’re welcome.”

“I…” I licked my lips. “I can’t do that.”

“Persistence pays off, Mal. Show up where you know he’ll be. From what I can tell, he goes to the Coffee Cave most days after practice and runs at the lake in the afternoon…judging by the light of the more recent photos. And since you’re a TA, you can probably pull a few strings to figure out his class schedule. Use your power, baby! But if those options don’t pan out, you can always go to a game.”

“A game?” I squeaked.

Layla typed “Smithton Bears Hockey Schedule” in the search bar. “There’s one here on Saturday.”

I buried my head in my hands and moaned. “Plan B it is.”

“Oh, don’t give up, Mal. The worst he can do is say no.”

CHAPTER3

MALCOLM

“No.”

My phony smile slipped. “I can condense the allotted time to ten minutes if that’s more favorable. Before practice, after practice, whatever works for you.”

Jett handed his card to the barista—who was watching our exchange with undisguised interest—as he eyed me through the fringe of his damp hair. He smelled divine. Like sandalwood, peppermint, and…man. It took everything I had not to lean in and sniff the air around him.Nope. Not going to do that. I’d already embarrassed myself by tripping through the door after the hockey team and nearly taking out a student juggling a tray of drinks.

It wasn’t the entrance I’d hoped to make, but I’d caught Jett’s attention. Not that it had done me any good. He remained stubbornly resolute, and I had no idea how to talk him into doing something he was vehemently against.

“I’d like one of those egg-and-spinach croissants too, please. And whatever he’s drinking.” Jett hooked a thumb toward me. “It’s on me.”

“No, no. Allow me.” I fumbled for my wallet, scattered my driver’s license, a debit, and a Visa card on the counter, and apologized to the barista for holding up the line.

“It’s okay. The transaction went through. You’ll have to get him next time,” she said. “You wanted oat milk, right?”