Page 95 of Penalty Shot

“I go during the All-Star break for a couple of days and spend about a week in the summer. There are a few other people I visit, like high school buddies who never moved away. My old minor league team is great, too. It’s run by Ben Nakamura. He knows every kid in that area who has ever put on a pair of ice skates. We keep in touch.”

“Why does his name sound familiar?”

“It does?”

I rack my brain. It snags at a memory of a bunch of kids holding Haughland signs. “There’s a hockey club that always posts about you.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Ben alright.”

“I can’t wait to meet him.”

“He’ll love you,” he says before planting a kiss on my temple.

“So, we’re paying homage to your family, hanging out with a coach, and what else?”

“It’s a great city in the summer. We’ll do all the touristy things I never get to do.”

“Like?”

“You’ll see.”

He presses play. This time I let my head fall sideways, the ear without the earbud leaning on his chest while his arm wraps around me. The armrest is no longer between us. The seats are so comfortable, we could be on a sofa. The only difference is, I would be sitting on his lap by now.

We stop the movie when the flight attendant brings our food trays and champagne refills. He chats fondly about places I’ve only heard about: Whistler for skiing in the winter and hiking in the summer, Stanley Park for the world-class aquarium and towering sequoias, bike paths between the city and the ocean. He looks so happy talking about his hometown.

My heart squeezes because there’s so much about Randall that I love and so much I have yet to learn. I’m sure I’ll end up loving those parts of him, too.

When the food trays are cleared and the show resumes, I snuggle closer and let the drowsiness take over.

I hold Elise tight and make the small adjustments to ensure she stays comfortable for the rest of the flight. Her breathing is even, and her head is heavy. It’s not until the captain announces our landing in a few minutes that she moves at all.

“We’re here?” she sits up. I already miss the soft warmth of her body.

“In Seattle. There’s a lounge for first-class passengers on a layover.”

“A first-class lounge? You mean a sanctum for the jet-setting elite where commoners dare not tread?”

“They serve hot cookies.”

Her eyes widen and she tidies up her space and straightens her chair.

“Look sharp, Haughland,” she says with a curt nod. “I don’t want to be the last one out of here.”

Of course, we aren’t. We exit the plane and walk to the end of the terminal where we present our first-class tickets.

Elise immediately heads to a table brimming with desserts: chocolate truffles, fruit Danishes, and lots of cookies.

She’s so damn adorable, everything that’s old becomes new. Treats I take for granted are treasures to discover. Nothing is boring, including watching her sleep. And our destination, where I usually arrive with apprehension, is simply a world-class city I can’t wait to show my girlfriend.

I’m excited about places I know she’ll enjoy. And there’s nothing sexier than Elise having fun.

The dress that had been riding up her thighs while we were onthe plane is doing a great job of hugging her plush ass. I wasn’t kidding on the plane when I said I wanted her on my lap.

We find a bistro-size table at the corner of the lounge. When Elise moans after a bite of the fruit tart, my patience has been strained enough.

“Give me a taste of that,” I say.

She cheerfully holds out the tart, but I lean over and take her mouth instead. She’s sweet and soft and fruity. My tongue delves deeper, insatiable in its need to consume her. When we come up for air, our shoulders lean together.