Page 16 of Replay (Toronto Blaze #3)

Good, Cheap Lobster

Katie

Josh said he’d pick me up. His knee was healed enough that he could handle the clutch of his Mustang.

I hoped he was being truthful, and not just reluctant to let me drive.

Then, as if he thought I was worried about it, he said he could park in the players’ lot, and we’d be able to skip the hassle of finding parking.

I was new to the city and used transit instead of driving, but traffic was crazy and I’d heard enough people complaining about parking downtown for his concern to make sense.

I could have said I’d meet him at the arena, but then he might have to come get me at the front doors, since I didn’t have a ticket.

His knee might be better but probably better to skip unnecessary walking.

I was waiting just inside my condo building’s doors when he pulled up in his bright yellow Mustang. I opened the door before he could get out—this wasn’t a parking zone, and it was the start of rush hour. I’d agreed to dinner before the game, so it was a little early.

“Hey Katie!” He was grinning ear to ear.

“Hey, Josh.”

I slid into the seat, and he pulled the car out into the street.

Josh drove with a lot more confidence than me.

There wasn’t any chance to see what the car could do because this was downtown Toronto where traffic was terrible, and we rarely got into even third gear.

We took only three times as long as we should to get to the arena, and Josh flashed his ID to get into the players’ lot.

It was mostly full, everyone already here to play.

Probably why we were so early. Did he need to talk to his teammates or coaches?

Josh heaved a sigh as he looked at the other cars but smiled again as he looked at me. “So, I thought we’d eat here at the arena so there’s no rushing to get back before the game.”

“That’s fine.” I didn’t really care. I didn’t eat out much on my budget, so since he’d insisted on paying, I’d eat wherever.

He led the way through the doors from the players’ lot. “I won’t take you to the locker room or anything. Guys are getting ready, and they might not be dressed. We could go down after if you want?”

“If you want. I only know Daniel, and I haven’t followed the team, so…”

Josh looked disappointed, but then grabbed my hand and pulled me toward an elevator.

When he’d said we were eating at the arena, I’d imagined getting hotdogs and popcorn from one of the fast-food vendors in the building.

But the floor we got out on had paneled walls and thick carpet—this wasn’t where regular fans came to watch the game.

There was a man in a suit at the doorway to a restaurant, and we were led to a table where glass windows overlooked the ice.

A black linen tablecloth, yellow napkins and red menus—the Blaze colors. There was a well-stocked bar at one end, the whole room filled with that hushed atmosphere expensive restaurants had.

I was guessing hot dogs were not on the menu.

I leaned over to Josh and hissed, “I thought we were picking up fast food.”

He leaned over and whispered back. “If I went to one of those places in the concourse, well, fans would get kind of excited.”

Right. I sat back and drew in a breath. Josh was famous here. He’d be mobbed if he was wandering around. This was not high school Josh anymore.

One look at the prices and I wanted to slam the menu shut and walk out. I looked up, frowning, meeting Josh’s gaze.

“Katie, I make a lot of money. I couldn’t do anything nice for you back in high school, but I can now. Let me make up for that.”

I didn’t want to be the kind of person who focused on money and prices.

But it had been a long, long time since I’d had really good food in an expensive restaurant, and it wasn’t like I was going to put out because Josh bought me dinner.

He was looking at me like a puppy begging for someone to rub his belly.

“Fine. I’m going to pretend I didn’t see the prices. ”

He grinned. “Why don’t I just tell you what they have, and you pick without seeing what it costs? Because otherwise you’re going to pick the cheapest thing. Which is lobster, by the way.”

I snorted and pressed a hand over my mouth. “Lobster is not the cheapest thing on this menu.”

Josh used his quick reflexes to snag the menu from me. “Sorry, but it definitely is. How long since you’ve had some good, cheap lobster?”

“It’s been a while.”

Josh tucked my menu under his and kept them both out of my reach. “Hmmm. You have a point. Lobster is cheaper with one of these shitty steaks.”

The waiter stopped behind Josh, a pained look on his face.

“Um, Josh, I think this man wants to take our order.”

Josh jumped. He looked at the waiter with rounded eyes, but managed to order some wine, the cheap lobster and shitty steak, along with appetizers. The waiter was polite but cool.

As soon as he left, I dissolved into giggles. Josh reached over and poked me. “That’s not polite, laughing at the servers.”

I swallowed another laugh. “His face when you said shitty steak.”

He shrugged. “I’m just a dumb jock.”

That removed any desire to laugh. “That’s not true.”

“I barely finished high school. Never got more education.”

“I’m at university now, Josh, and I guarantee you that a college degree does not equate to intelligence.”

“Katie, you’re nice, but we know I’m not smart.”

This was one of the things that really rubbed me the wrong way. “You aren’t a person who learns well from reading and sharing knowledge in standardized tests.”

He rolled his eyes. “And how else do you figure out if someone is smart?”

I waved my hand over the table. “We’re here, eating at an expens—” He opened his mouth to argue so I switched to, “At a restaurant that serves cheap lobster and shitty steaks. You make millions of dollars, according to the salary that’s published, and I know you have some sponsorship deals too, right? ”

He shrugged, cheeks slightly pink.

“You have your own place, take care of it and yourself. And you must be hockey smart or you wouldn’t be playing in the NHL.”

“It sounds a lot better when you say it.”

I held up a finger. “Plus, you can carry on an intelligent conversation about Star Wars for hours, if someone is willing to listen.”

“A lot of people don’t think that Star Wars is important.”

I leaned forward over the table. “People can be smart about popular, commercially viable things just as well as about Greek philosophers or classical music. You can also be stupid about Greek philosophers and classical music, or Star Wars .”

Josh smiled at me, a warm smile that sent fizzy bubbles through my body. “You’ve always made me feel better about myself.”

I liked that comment more than I should have. “You did the same for me. I thought I wasn’t pretty, or interesting to boys.”

He cocked his head. “I remember, but I told you, you were hot and a lot of fun. How did you put it back then? Big boobs do not equate to pretty or interesting.”

I rolled my eyes. “In high school they did.”

“Not for me.” The sincerity was impossible to miss, and he was right. I had bigger boobs now than I did then, but he hadn’t ever made me feel like I was lacking. Until that breakup text.

* * *

Josh

It was working. Katie was warming up to me, and this felt more like a date than two friends hanging out over food. We talked without any awkward pauses, and she laughed, not at me but with me. The guys might wonder how I knew Katie was the right woman for me, but this just proved it.

She didn’t think I was stupid, and she talked to me like I was a regular person—not a hockey kind-of star, but someone she liked being with. We didn’t talk about hockey at all.

The waiter brought our bill just before the game.

I’d sat with my back to the glass so that I wouldn’t be distracted by warm-ups.

It had been a while since I’d watched a game live, rather than being on the ice.

I hoped she’d enjoy the game. She’d come to some of mine when we were dating, but we’d never watched together like this.

Once I’d paid for the meal, I led her out to the elevator. I pulled a cap from my back pocket and tugged it down over my face.

She grinned. “That’s your disguise?”

I shrugged. If we could get to our seats before people started to take photos or ask me to sign things, I’d be happy.

Sometimes it was enough. I’d timed it well—they’d just started the national anthem when we got to our section. We had to wait till they finished O Canada , but then everyone’s attention was focused on the ice, and we made our way to our seats before anyone recognized who I was.

We were two thirds of the way up in the lower bowl, center ice.

I didn’t want to be right on the glass—it was harder to follow the action from there, and center gave the best chance to see plays developing on both ends of the rink.

It was also an expensive section, so the people with tickets here were less invasive.

They weren’t as impressed by us players, or they wanted to seem less impressed.

It made it easier to be part of the crowd in either case.

I’d asked Katie if she wanted a drink or anything, but we’d just come from dinner so we both passed on anything more. I made sure she was settled in okay, nodded to a few people who were trying to catch my attention, and focused on the ice where the puck was about to drop.

I wanted to be out there, so badly. I could skate on my knee, and the team had approved me for regular practice tomorrow, so watching from the stands was extra frustrating when I knew I could help.

They sure as hell could have used me.