Page 21 of Power Play

“Well, we’ve already determined that you’re a fucking badass at pool, so we can either play darts or shuffleboard. Your choice.”

“Well, the last time I played darts, I almost shot someone’s eye out and they were behind me. So, how about we play shuffleboard.”

“Works for me. Want to meet over there? I’m going to grab another beer. Would you like another, uh, what are you even drinking that’s pink at a dive bar?”

“Unfortunately, Cassie ordered these. It’s a Cosmo. Would you mind just grabbing me a beer as well?”

“Deal. Meet you over there.”

* * *

Grabbing a pitcher at the bar, I look around for my friends, and thankfully they’re all either occupied with a game of pool or, if you’re Harris and Miles, chatting with a lady... or two. This night hasn’t really gone how I expected it to when I agreed to come out, but I’m not complaining. I’d never admit it, but I’m having a good time, and it’s mostly due to the woman standing at the shuffleboard table waiting for me.

Walking towards her, I can’t help but grin at the little smile she shoots my way when she notices me coming. Her whole face lights up when she smiles, showcasing her gorgeous blue eyes that I want to get lost in. She seems so genuinely happy that it’s almost contagious.

Almost.

“I grabbed whatever they had on draft. I think it’s Coors or something,” I tell her while pouring and handing her a beer.

“That’s just fine with me. I’m not picky.”

“Just on what fruity drinks you like?” I smirk.

“Well, I, uh, yeah, I really hate those. The headaches the next morning sure as fuck aren’t worth it, and they just don’t taste good. I’d prefer a beer or tequila.”

“Really? I had you pegged as a margarita girl, blended of course. Or that wine, you know, the pink stuff?”

“Rosé?” she asks, raising her eyebrows enough that I feel like an idiot for not knowing.

“Yeah, that one. I figured that’d be the type of shit you’d drink.”

“Well, you missed that one by a mile. I can’t stand that shit, especially the pink stuff.” She smirks as she makes fun of me. “Plus, I prefer my tequila with salt and a lime.”

I find myself having a hard time looking away from Sawyer. Talking to her is so enjoyable, and if I’m being honest, I’m nervous that once we stop, it’ll pop this bubble we’re in. It’s different than I’m used to, in a good way. Normally, the more I talk to a woman, the more I’m ready for the conversation to be over. But with Sawyer, the more time I spend with her, the more time I want. She gets more and more interesting the longer we’re together, and she’s so down to earth it’s shocking. I’ve spent my whole life running away from puck bunnies, so it’s exciting to find someone who’s the exact opposite.

Plus, I don’t even think she knows who I am. She hasn’t once asked what I do for a living or implied she knew who we are, so it’s nice not getting attention from someone because of my NHL career. It’s part of the reason I only ever spend one night with someone. I hate the attention I get when I know it’s only because of my past fame. One night stands usually only care about your first name if they even want that.

“You get cooler and cooler the more I learn about you,” I blurt out, surprising myself with the admission, and by the look on her face, she’s just as shocked.

Fuck. I usually play it much cooler than this.

“Ready to play?” I ask, trying to quickly move past my comment and onto safer ground.

“Yup, I’m ready to kick your ass.”

“Have you ever even played shuffleboard before?”

“Nope. But how hard could it be,” she says, confidently. “You take this puck-thingy and slide it down the lane. Easy-peasy. I’m sure I’ll kick your ass at this too.”

Spoiler alert: she did not kick my ass, and this game was not “easy-peasy”... for her. It only took three rounds, but she finally managed to at least keep the “puck-thingy,” but only when she barely pushed it at all.

“Okay, this rounds on me, ya know, to celebrate,” I say.

“I’m not one to deny any celebration, but what exactly are we celebrating?” she asks, looking slightly confused and little drunk, her eyes becoming hazy from the last round of tequila we just had.”

“We’re celebrating that you’re no longer total shit at this game, just mostly,” I tell her, covering my face to try to hide my smirk before grabbing her hand and leading her towards the bar before she can yell at me.

The second our hands touch, I feel a shock of electricity that has me almost pulling my hand back, but I hold on. She must have noticed it as well because she stiffens up momentarily and her eyes haven’t left our joined hands as I continue leading her to the bar. It’s almost one in the morning now, and the only people left in the bar are our friends, although everyone has kind of broken off to do their own things.

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