Page 51 of Fated Shot

Jack

The moment we step into The Prime Reserve, every eye in the room turns to us.

There’s around ten of us that were able to make it out, not too bad for a Thursday night after a road trip. We try to schedule times to all hang out, it helps with chemistry when we’re all vibing both on and off the ice. I definitely don’t have the best attendance at these events, particularly when it’s a club or something despite Penn’s constant pestering, but tonight it was an easy decision.

The restaurant is split between a formal dining room and a bistro-style bar. I don’t love having to dress up to go out for dinner, but the food is worth it. We’re seated on the bar side, which is livelier and feels a lot less stuffy. I find a spot at the dark mahogany high-top table as we fill in, five on each side. An eighty-inch TV hangs above the bar at the end of the table, visible to all of us. Steak and Sportsnet, just doesn’t get better than that.

As soon as I sit down, I pull out my phone to shoot off a quick text. I’m suddenly a texter, finding myself constantly checking for notifications from Wyndham. It’s never chimed so much in my life. I’ve had to resort to keeping it on vibrate during the day before flipping my sound back on right before bed,fucking Penn.

I type out a quick message ‘Can I see you later?’Shit, does that sound like a booty call? I immediately delete it. ‘Do you want to hang out later tonight?’ I can’t tell if that’s worse. This constant overthinking is not me, but somehow, it’s become my new norm. I sigh, shoving it back into my pocket without ever hitting send.

A young, blonde waitress in a black dress and apron comes strolling over to take our drink order. I’m sure we look like an intimidating bunch. We tend to draw attention anywhere we go, especially when we’re in a group, but for the most part, we’re harmless. She hesitantly goes around the table, jotting down our orders. I offer her a polite smile as I order a glass of whiskey.

Just as she leaves, a deep, resonant throat clears, capturing all of our attention. For a man in his early fifties, Douglas Cameron is still built like an athlete. Standing at six-one, he has a large frame and a naturally authoritative presence. We immediately fall silent.

“Heard trouble walked in the door,” his thunderous laugh hits us. We all smile, but it’s weird seeing Coach out in public. Feels like when you’re younger and run into your teacher at the mall or something. Weird to think that he has a whole life off-ice. Who knew? Coaches; they’re just like us.

Patting Evan on the back, he rumbles, “I’m expecting best behavior, boys. I’ve got the family here with me,” as he turns heading toward the door.

I smile politely and turn my attention back to the menu. But soon, a flash of blonde hair catches my eye. I look up and find myself face-to-face with the bombshell ahead of us.

A tight, dark green dress hugs her every curve, with fabric swooping right over her perfect tits, and pin-straight hair falling almost to her waist. Even with her makeup and soft pink cheeks, her freckles shine through. I'm completely starstruck—realization hitting like a puck to the face.

Mia.

I swallow hard, trying to snap back to reality, but I literally cannot stop staring. Her eyes meet mine for only a moment, startled but seemingly more in control than I am. She, unlike me, diverts her gaze, smiling timidly as she looks over the entire table. She’s turning more rosey by the minute as the guys take her in, grinning like idiots. You’d think for someone that breathtaking, she’d be used to the attention, but she instinctively drops her face toward the floor.

Coach guides her past us toward the main dining room, offering nothing more than a brisk nod as they disappear in the distance.

My heart is thudding a lot harder than it should, but I’m sobered up real quick.

“Fucking hell, that should be illegal. Can’t believe she’s related to Coach.” Connor Tucker says quietly from two seats down as the rest of the guys laugh.

Licking his lips and raising his eyebrows, John Daley adds, “Yeah, I like them curvy like that.”

“You’d have to have a death wish to go after her,” Evan warns.

“You blind, Woodsy? I’d risk a trade, she’d be worth it.” Max cracks his knuckles before casually smirking into his beer. The heat that rips through me spikes my blood pressure like asurge of electricity through a power grid. I know he’s picturing Mia, and the urge to take him out is almost too much to bear.

I don’t even notice my leg frantically shaking until Penn elbows me, giving me a confused look. I stop immediately, thankful for the distraction when our waitress returns. Feigning every ounce of my attention, I nod intently as she rattles off the daily special.

We’re halfway through our meal when the chatter at our table comes to a suspicious halt. Noticing some pointed laughs and sneers. I direct my gaze toward the source of their attention.Mia’s walking right toward us, hair softly bouncing with every step.

Our eyes meet, and a small panic crosses her face as she pivots around the table, heading toward the bathrooms behind us. I clear my throat, trying to divert my eyes from her, a near-impossible feat. She’s mesmerizing.

“Fuck me, look at that ass.” Max throws out, fully turning in his stool to check her out.Non-discrete dickwad.

Jealousy burns in my stomach as my knuckles turn white around my glass. Penn eyes me again, but this time, I can’t as easily dodge his suspicion.

“Stomach hurts,” I lie. The instinct to rip her away from everyone’s view and claim her as my own is real. What the fuck am I, a caveman?

I pause, catching my breath for at least a minute before I grumble, “Bathroom,” to Penn, standing abruptly.

I march out of the main bar area turning into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Two large black doors stay closed, as I hover in front of them, waiting. As the one on the left starts to open, I spot her green dress and push my way in.

“Ooop,” she lets out, startled, as she takes a step back. I shut the door behind me, locking it as I approach her. She’s excited, I can see the quickening of the pulse around her neck. I want to take her right now, I’ve been dreaming about her every minute since we were last together, and now she’s in front of me again. Instead, I push down my hunger. Stepping forward, I rest my hands on her waist and lean in to kiss her cheek.

“You look beautiful, Mia.” Her eyes close at the contact, her sweet scent hitting me.

---