Page 7 of Hooking Up with the Hockey Player

I almost make a quip about her feeling comfortable putting her hands on me—she did just smack my bicep after all—but decide to keep that thought to myself. It sounds overly flirty, and I’m not trying to hit on her. I rescued her from dudes who don’t know how to stop when a woman isn’t interested. I’ve already co-opted her night, keeping her from the friend group she came with—who I notice is starting to break up, only a couple of women left at the table, including the one who waved to her when we sat down—she doesn’t need me acting like a douchebag too.

“What’s a better first date venue around here in your opinion? Like where did your current boyfriend take you on your first date?”

Her smile fading, she looks at me out of the corner of her eye, then focuses on her drink, toying with the stem of her glass. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” She hesitates a beat before continuing. “I haven’t dated anyone since I moved here. My last boyfriend …” She trails off, wrinkling her nose again, this time with something more like disgust than mirth, and shaking her head. “Let’s not ruin a perfectly good evening by talking about him.”

My eyebrows raise. “That bad, huh?”

Another soft chuckle, but this one doesn’t sound very amused. “Yeah.” She sucks in a breath and looks at me. “What about you?” She gestures at the bar. “Is this your idea of a good first date?”

The question hits me in the gut, and I grunt reflexively because it sounds like she’s asking if we’re having a good first date. And I know this isn’t a date. Obviously. But it almost feels like one with the get-to-know-you questions, sitting close and cozy like we are, the way I’ve nearly stopped paying attention to what’s going on around me, only vaguely aware that Dozer, Jenny, Nick, and Tina have all gotten up and left us alone and we’re still crowded together like the booth is full.

She turns those pretty brown eyes on me again, her eyebrows raised in expectation.

Clearing my throat, I drag my gaze away and shrug. “I dunno. I guess it depends on the vibe of the girl I’m with. I don’t object to grabbing a drink with someone to get to know them the first time, but these days …” Trailing off, I shrug again and shake my head. “No, I probably wouldn’t pick a bar as a first date place.”

The only reason we decided to come here tonight is because we’d wandered around town today and hadn’t been recognized. Or at least, no one said anything. It seemed like a safe place to be. While I’ve been playing for the Seattle Emeralds the last few years, hockey isn’t nearly as popular of a sport around here as it is in the Midwest. Or Canada. We get recognized out there all the time.

But here?

Not so much. The anonymity has been nice, for the most part. When I first went pro and started getting recognized, I loved it. But after a while, it got old. It’s weird having random strangers know things about you, feeling like they know you. And it was even worse when I dated a model for a while in my twenties. We got photographed everywhere and it turned going out to eat into a circus every time. Then my clothes were getting dissected on all these style channels, as though I were somehow a model too instead of a random hockey player, and my then-girlfriend berated me for making her look bad and insisted I buy a whole new wardrobe and dictated what I wore each time we went out.

That was the first and last time I dated someone with any notoriety of their own. Though some puck bunnies are just as bad, only they want to ride the players’ coattails into that type of lifestyle.

Hard pass.

Which means I haven’t had a relationship in a few years either. It’s hard to meet someone naturally, and online dating is extra tricky as a pro athlete. It’s difficult to know who wants to date me because they like me, and who just wants me for my status and money.

Anna nods, glancing around. “How long are you and your friends in town for?”

“We rented a big cabin on the lake for a couple of weeks. It’s a nice spot, a little bit out of town, with water toys we can use. Nick has two kids who are with us too, so they really like getting to play in the lake all day.”

“Oh, that’s fun. I bet they’re having a blast. It’s great you have good enough friends you’d willingly spend that much time with them.” She spins her glass around a few times, her lips pressed together, and I wait for her to spit out whatever she’s holding back. “So.”

I wait another beat. “So?”

She shakes her head, looks at me, looks away, narrows her eyes. “So, those guys asked for an autograph?”

I chuckle. Since she hadn’t said anything, I wasn’t sure if she knew who I was and was playing it cool or what. “Yeah.”

Her shoulders tense, and she glares at me like I’m a dick for making her ask her whole question instead of guessing what she wants to know. “I feel like a jerk asking this, but are you someone famous?”

Grinning, I finish off my beer and lift one shoulder. “In certain circles.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and I can’t wipe my own grin off my face. This is the most fun I think I’ve had in ages. Her reactions are priceless, and I can’t stop myself from prodding her a little to get them. “And what circles would those be?”

Shifting my mouth to the side, I briefly wonder how vague I can be and still answer the question honestly. But I think we’re reaching the limits here. “Hockey circles.”

That has her eyebrows jumping up her forehead. “So you … play … hockey? Professionally?”

I dip my head, not quite a nod. “I just finished my last season,” I admit at last. “I’m Troy Easton, and I’ve played for the Seattle Emeralds for the last four years.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Anna

I stare up at the gorgeous man cozied up next to me, which is so odd, because I don’t usually like being this close to strangers, much less large, strange men, and there’s a whole empty booth on my other side, but I feel no desire to move away from him.

If anything, I want to snuggle into his side, but the part of my brain that isn’t muzzied by two fairly strong Cosmos tells me that might be weird. And this guy still seems to think I’m mostly normal. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize that.

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