Page 15 of Pucks and Coffee

Her face is bright red. “You saw my boobs.”

“That’s hardly a hardship for me,” I tease, sending her a smirk. She glares and I grin. “I promise, I only looked for a moment.”

“A moment too long. I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

We share a long look, and thankfully, the blush starts to fade. “Yeah, I’d rather not die when you’re offering me your coffeehouse.”

I laugh at that, nodding slowly. I look up to find her watching me. “So, you’re interested?”

“I think that’s well known,” she says, pursing her lips at me. “I’ve only asked you to train me for over a year.”

“It comes with a hefty commitment.”

She presses her lips together. “I’m aware, and I’m sure we can come to a fair price. I hate to see you sell since it’s your dad’s and all, but I’ll care for it. I won’t even change the name.”

I can’t help but laugh. Her excitement falters as she sets me with a look. “The coffeehouse isn’t for sale, McDavid.”

Her brows pull in, her cheeks filling with the sweetest pink that is distracting as fuck. “Then what are you talking about?” she asks, a little edge to her voice. That edge makes me think she may have a bit of bite in her. A little sass. But with how pretty and sweet she is, I highly doubt it. For some reason, I’m nervous. I don’t want to be rejected; no one does. Surely my offer will convince her to help me out.

“Let me start from the beginning.” She eyes me warily but waits for me to go on. I appreciate her patience, and soon, the words come to me. “I have a chance to play in the NHL.”

She tilts her head. “I thought you already played hockey?”

“The Knoxville Bears are an American Hockey League team. I have a chance to play for the National Hockey League, which is the highest of honors.”

She seems impressed, her brows rising as she nods. “Oh, duh. I knew there was a difference, just didn’t know the terminology.”

I pick up my fork, picking at the cake in front of us. “I’ve always wanted to be a hockey player, but I never had the opportunity. I tried out for the Bears on a whim, and when I made it, I couldn’t believe it. Then my coach put it in my head that I could make the NHL, and now, I want it. I want it badly.” I look up to find her watching me, and I really don’t want to admit the next part, but I know I have to.

When she gives me a small, encouraging smile, it catches me off guard. “I’m sure you will. I’ve seen you play. You’re good.”

My mouth actually drops open at that. I hadn’t expected her to say that. “You’ve seen me play?”

She nods. “I go to the games with Louisa, my sister, to watch her fiancé play.”

That’s right. Ciaran Carter is engaged to her sister. Though, he probably won’t be playing for the Bears anymore; he should make the Nashville Assassins’ roster this season. “I didn’t realize you went.”

“Yeah, I’m the one with an overpriced glass of wine and a huge pretzel and cheese.” She grins as she takes another forkful of cake and then meets my gaze. “Be on standby—or better yet, don’t say anything to make me choke.”

I want her to choke on my cock. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

I watch as she takes another bite and then smiles in triumph when she eats it without needing the Heimlich. “You survived.”

“I did, but I’m going in for more. Be alert,” she teases, and I flash her a grin. Around the bite she eats, she says, “Continue, please.”

Fuck, that word. It’s so breathy, so soft, and I adore how she says it. I don’t know why, and I really shouldn’t be thinking of her choking on my cock as she whimpers please. But of course, my unsatisfied self is. I mentally push that image to my spank bank and focus on what is at hand. Our goals. Yes, goals. “Um, well, I kinda fucked up my image.”

Her brows furrow at my honesty. “How so?”

“I slept around a lot, drank more than that, and gambled even more. The real kicker was me getting caught in the closet with a teammate’s wife.”

Her mouth makes a little O, but she recovers quickly, a grimace filling her sweet face. I hate admitting this shit to her. I know I look like a jackass, but I have to be completely transparent with her. “Well, that was a bad choice.”

“Very bad, and there are no excuses. I fucked up, and now I’m working to fix it.”

“Because of the NHL?” she asks, and I feel like she’s looking right into my soul.

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