Page 25 of Grumpy Puck

“Is there any chance you have skates in my size?”Calliope asks.“I’m suddenly dying to try them.”

Coach surreptitiously looks at me, and I give him an imperceptible nod—mostly because I’m curious how quickly she will learn to ice skate.

“What size shoe do you wear?”Coach asks.

“Nine,” she says.

“That’s a child’s seven and a half, right?”Coach asks.

She cocks her giant clown-bear head.“How would I know that?”

“Sorry,” Coach says.“Once you have kids, you do that sort of conversion all the time.”He turns my way.“Michael, do you happen to know where we can get ice skates in that size?”

He knows that I do, so instead of replying, I march away to locate a few pairs of skates that are around that size—though a part of me wishes I’d measured Calliope’s foot first, since that is the way skate fitting is supposed to be done.

Yeah.It’s not like I want to see and touch her feet.Or check if she’s got sparkly nail polish on her toes to match her fingers.Or if she wears a toe ring.Or an ankle bracelet.No.You just have to be measured to get properly fitting skates, that is all.

When I return, Calliope has her mascot head off, and when I hand her the first pair of skates to try on, she narrows her eyes at me.“Why do you have these on hand?”She scans my teammates.“I doubt any of your fellow Neanderthals wear dainty skates like these.”

I take a deep sigh.“A thank you might be a more appropriate response.”There’s no way I’m discussing my secret project right now.

She waltzes over and leans in to whisper into my ear.“Do you use these to seduce puck bunnies?”

Her lips brush my ear, and I thank the hockey gods for my protective cup.Otherwise, she’d be able to see my raging erection, and so would everyone else.

“Why?”I whisper back.“Are you jealous?”

She huffs indignantly.“If we’re pretending to date, we have to also at least pretend not to be with anyone else.”

My jaw ticks.“That’s absolutely correct,ptichka.I will not even look at anyone else, and no man but me is to come within six feet of you.”

Muttering “bar-bear-ian” under her breath, she nevertheless nods and then tries on the various pairs of skates before settling on a pink pair with glitter-like sparkles sewn on—of course.

As soon as she hits the ice, she’s able to move gracefully, or as gracefully as is possible for a giant plush bear.When I spot my teammates watching her with too much curiosity, I suggest to Coach to call the practice over and hint that he might find himself a few players short otherwise.

Coach uses his whistle and sends the assholes to the locker room.

Meanwhile, Calliope is skating better and better, though as soon as I get on the ice, she slams into me—which could be a prank but is more likely the only way she knows how to stop.

“I have to go now,” Coach says.“Michael, can you do me a favor and teach Calliope how to stop?”

Calliope pushes away from me.“I don’t need his help.”

Coach grins.“You two make a cute couple.”

With that, he leaves, and if he had been anyone but Coach, I’d tell him wholeheartedly to go to the fucking dick.

Chapter9

Calliope

Ignoring my assurances that his help isn’t needed—or wanted—Michael explains to me something called a snow plow stop.

I set Wolfgang on a nearby bench and attempt the maneuver.It turns out to be pretty easy.Next, Michael teaches me another way to stop, where I have to drag the skate back and angle it, which is a little trickier, but I make it work.

“You’re a quick learner,” he says approvingly once I master the fourth technique he shows me.

“And you’re a condescending jerk,” I reply.“Just teach me the best way to do this, and let’s get the hell out of here.”

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