Page 66 of From Fling to Ring

Lucy scans the crowd with a huge smile on her face. “Right? It’s a combination of Rake’s world with all you hockey types, and Petal’s with her local San Francisco people.”

I nod. “Looks like people are mixing.”

“Totally. In fact, I think some girl I went to Catholic school with is already giving a guy from your team a blowjob,” she says with a cringe.

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah. I told you about the girls I went to high school with.”

She leads me to the keg and pours me a beer. “Sorry about your game the other day,” she says, patting me on the back.

Yeah. That was not a good day. “You win some and you lose some,” I say.

That’s what all athletes say instead of acknowledging the devastation of a loss and the self-flagellation that follows.

She looks at me as if deciding what to say next. I hope she doesn’t bring up the one thing I don’t want to talk about.

“I watched the sports news, or whatever you call it, with Petal. They were not saying nice things about you.”

Yup. She brought it up.

“I know. That’s part of being a pro athlete. You gotta take your lumps.”

Actually, the reporter threw a lot more than lumps my way. Some fucker had the nerve to point out that my best days could be behind me, even though I’m only twenty-six. I love what I do, but it can be brutal, sometimes more off the ice than on. The guys said to let it roll off my back, but that’s easier said than done. You prepare all your life for something, and one asshole journalist thinks he’s qualified to decide when you should be put out to pasture.

I’d like to see him get out on the ice and get his ass handed to him several times a week during the season.

I’m clenching my fists just thinking about it.

Fuck, I’m in a mood tonight. I shouldn’t even be here.

Lucy senses something. I might not be sharing my inner turmoil with her, but she’s no dummy. She runs her hand over mine and it feels so good I want to take her into a closed-door room and see what she’s wearing under that dress…

“The girls and I had the best weekend away,” she gushes.

Oh right. I nod with great interest and she proceeds to tell me about her adventures at Petal’s family cottage up in Sonoma.

“We had mud baths at this spa place. It stinks like sulfur and after you’re done, someone comes and hoses you down. When I say you have mud in every nook and cranny of your body, I am not kidding. It was totally hilarious, and we were laughing our asses off.”

In spite of my shit mood and half-assed resolve to keep my feelings for her under control, I’m bewitched by her stories.

And especially her independence.

I’m honestly psyched she had a great weekend, although I really don’t need to hear the details of her friend who got her asshole waxed.

Then I remember. “Oh, sorry I didn’t text you back,” I say, wondering if there will be some sort of fallout. “Sometimes my head is so focused on an upcoming game.”

She looks at me, puzzled. “Text me back? When?”

She doesn’t remember?

“Oh, can you excuse me for a sec? I want to say hi to some old friends.” She squeezes my hand and I watch her rush across the room. Her ass shakes the tiniest bit under her slinky dress, and I wonder if she’s wearing panties. While I’m trying to figure it out, she throws her arms around one guy and then another.

Pretty soon she’s surrounded by several dudes who are clearly smitten with her, old friends or not. She’s laughing and chatting away, glowing with confidence.

Not surprisingly, my bad mood is growing worse.

I would say something’s bothering me, but the truth is multiple things are bothering me and I can’t shake any of them. I even wave away Rake when he swings by to say hi. He’s amused when he sees how I’m watching Lucy and walks away shaking his head.

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