Page 14 of Slap Shots & Sweethearts

"If you need an ice breaker use one of the paper strips. When the bell rings check yes or no on your card and shuffle on to the next table. At the end of the night, I'll collect your cards. So don't leave before I get them. I suggest everyone find their seat, so we can get started."

Too nervous to see who will join me first, I focus on pulling a pen and my card out of my purse and set both on the table in front of me. I put my name and table number at the top where it says to do so. Even though the instructions focused on the number, there's a spot to write both a name and nametag number next to the yes and no boxes.

A throat clears, and I look up to see a tall lanky man with a dark scraggly mustache rubbing the palms of his hands on his green tweed trousers. Yes, actual tweed. He holds out a hand to me, and I take it to be polite. His hand is wet from sweat.

"I'm Michael."

"Hannah." I let go of his hand as quickly as possible.

He sits down, and nervously adjusts the bowtie that matches his trousers and suspenders with one hand. His nerves make me feel better, as I'm clearly not the only one feeling anxious about tonight.

The hostess rings the bell. "Time starts now."

We are silent for a long moment, neither of us sure what to say first. After writing his nametag number and name down on my card, I wait for him to say something. Long seconds, of hearing others chatter, pass and I reach for one of the icebreaker papers. I open it up and read the question on it.

"If you were a pizza topping what would you be and why?" I look up to see what he'll say at the absurd question.

Michael frowns. "Not pineapple that's for certain."

"Why not?" I ask. "I like it on pizza."

"My mother says pineapple is of the devil. That's why it has all those horns."

Taken aback, I'm at a loss for words. Which no longer seems to be an issue for Michael. For the rest of the three minutes we sit together, I listen to a rant about pineapple that makes no sense, religiously speaking or otherwise, as he delves into the pineapple conspiracy sweeping the internet as further proof of its evil nature.

I'm beyond grateful when the bell rings and without hesitation, I mark the no next to his name.

"You're supposed to wait until after I leave the table." Michael huffs, then he's gone.

I look around, wondering if Maria saw any of that, but she's on the other side of the room and smiling at the guy that's just sat down across from her. She looks like she's enjoying herself, and I hope that she's able to find someone.

A man in a gray suit and white button-up, joins me at my table. He introduces himself as Jackson, and doesn't even wait for the bell before he starts talking.

"I'm an attorney at the Sterling and Sons law firm."

I smile. "I've heard nothing but good things about the firm."

He nods as if I haven't told him anything new.

"Do you work?" he asks.

"I do. I'm the PR manager for the Glacier Bay Bears."

He rolls his eyes. "Being a glorified influencer doesn't count. It's not that hard to post pretty pictures."

My hackles rise. "There's more to my job than that.”

"I'm looking for a woman that can handle being without me most days and nights as I work long hours and I don't do clingy. I'm trying to become a partner by the time I'm thirty."

"I appreciate your dedication to your job, and I'd hope any partner of mine would appreciate my dedication to mine."

He looks me over. "Would you be willing to lose weight?"

"Excuse me?" I say in horror.

"You have to be familiar with the camera adding ten pounds. My lady will be seen with me at important events and needs to be presentable at any moment."

"I'm going to save us both the time. I don't think we're compatible."

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