Page 113 of Sin Bin

As expected, Hunter ended up winning the match.

After finishing their round of golf, everyone headed to the clubhouse for dinner. As members of the exclusive country club, they always received VIP treatment and today was no exception. As soon as they entered the posh restaurant, they were shown to a private shaded terrace overlooking Biscayne Bay.

There was a formal table set for seven and a separate lounging area with contemporary couches. This was where everyone gathered with their cocktails, enjoying the cool ocean breeze as they discussed their tight race for first place in the Central Division. With one week left in the regular season, they had a seven-point advantage over Nashville. But they would be on the road for their final three games while the Predators’ remaining contests were at home.

“We can’t worry about that,” Hunter pronounced. “We just need to stay focused on the task at hand, not the daily change in the standings. If we go out there every night and take care of business, there’s no reason we can’t lock up the division and secure home ice advantage.”

“Exactly,” asserted Reid, the team’s alternate captain. “We’ve been in this position before. But we’re a much better team than we were last year. We’re smarter, stronger, more focused and more determined than ever.”

“Absolutely,” agreed veteran goaltender Sergei Vasiliev. “The key is to keep moving forward. No more looking over our shoulders. Just full throttle ahead.”

“Damn straight.” They all clinked glasses and drained their drinks, trading nods and broad grins.

Two pretty waitresses brought out their appetizers, laughing when everyone pounced on the steaming platters of food. The girls hung around fawning and flirting, stopping just short of handing out their numbers before they finally sashayed off, giggling and whispering to each other.

When Viggo’s phone rang, he dug it out of his pocket, checked the screen and made a pained face. “Damn. It’s my mom.”

Reid grinned. “Uh-oh.”

“Tell me about it,” Viggo muttered grimly. “I used to enjoy talking to her, but ever since we started planning the wedding, I’ve been dreading her calls. I never know what the hell to expect.”

“Give me your phone,” Dubinski joked. “If you don’t wanna talk to her, I will. Your mom is hot!”

Viggo scowled at him. “Fuck off.”

Dubinski laughed.

Viggo rose from the couch. “I know these appetizers will be gone before I get back, so—” He scooped up a handful of stuffed mushrooms, shoveling two in his mouth as he mumbled into his phone, “Hej, Mamma.”

After he retreated to the other end of the terrace for privacy, the conversation drifted from hockey to families.

“I can’t wait to see Jenna and the kids in Vegas,” Sergei said with a sigh. “Wednesday can’t get here soon enough.”

Reid gave him a sympathetic look. “It doesn’t get any easier, does it? Being away from them?”

Sergei shook his head. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I’d be lying. I mean, obviously, I can’t speak for other guys, but I miss the hell out of my family when I’m on the road. Those five-game series are the worst because it means we’re gone for at least ten days.”

“Yeah.” Reid grimaced. “Those are brutal.”

Logan frowned. He was already missing Jupiter, and they’d only been apart less than a day. He couldn’t imagine being away from her for ten whole days. Fuck.

Reid grinned, blue eyes twinkling. “I’m trying to convince Nadia that we should start our family next year instead of waiting two years like we originally planned.”

Hunter gave him an amused look. “And how’s that going?”

“Good, I think. I’m slowly but surely wearing her down.” Reid bit into a crispy ring of calamari. “By the time our wedding rolls around, I’m hoping to have her bargained down to six months.”

The group burst into laughter.

“You guys are crazy,” Dmitri Fedorov declared in his thickly accented voice. The Russian defenseman was Reid’s partner on the ice. “All of you are too young to be settling down with a wife and kids.”

“Says who?” Sergei challenged.

“Says me.” Dmitri scraped his longish black hair off his forehead, mischief glinting in pale blue eyes that matched the water surrounding the resort. Hockey reporters were fond of calling him and Reid “blue-eyed bandits” who terrorized opponents on the blue line.

Dmitri drawled, “When I’m finished, how do you say, sowing my wild oats? Then, and only then, will I settle down with a nice girl from Russia. Preferably from my hometown of Chelyabinsk.”

Sergei gave him an indulgent smile. “And what if your future wife isn’t from Russia?”

---