Page 5 of For Pucking Keeps

“Wait. That’s a lot of dicks and a woman only has three holes, Jaz. Explain it to the table. Make it makesense.” Devan’s eyebrows rise higher, and you can almost see the wheels turning. The entire table erupts into laughter. I can’t hide my own smirk. Even Ridley has joined us, having lost his bunnies for the night in order to catch a glimpse of the mesmerizing woman in front of me. Jaz Starr. That name. I have so many questions.

“Well, sometimes I have to draw a diagram. Or”—Jaz holds out her hands in front of her to stop Devan, he pauses, mouth open and ready to launch into another barrage of questions—“let’s just say, when I die, I am going to have to write it in my will that someone deletes my Google search history.” She arches a brow and eyes all of us around the table. Jaz’s eyes land on me, her pupils are blown, her cheeks are flush from possibly too many drinks, but her focus is absolute. She looks at me as if she can pull out my soul from my chest and read my deepest, darkest secrets. Even through her drunken smirk of a smile, she is seeing me, and it makes me want to look away, but I refuse to. “Come on, you’re all big hockey players. All these women throwing themselves at you. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of opportunities to live out the multiple partner dream.” She steeples her hands and waits for anyone to speak up, delighted in the fact that she has completely thrown us all off guard.

All my friends are silent as they look at Jaz like she’s an alien creature they want to examine further.She’s not shy, and I like it. I guess if you write about romance and sex for a living your life is an open book. Devan’s mouth falls open, lost for words. She’s made the most boisterous of us mute. I’ve never met anyone who can shut Devan up. Ridley leans forward about to answer her but Lia whoops in excitement at the same time.

“One woman, multiple men. I need a harem! Sign me the hell up.” Lia knocks back her drink and slams it on the table. “I’ll also be the one to delete your search history.” She salutes Jaz from across the table as she practically slides out of her chair.

“Okay, baby sis. I think it is time we got you home.” Ridley stands as Devan catches Lia around the waist to steady her.

“I’m here with Jaz,” Lia slurs, swatting Devan’s arm away. Ridley’s arm replaces his as he hauls his sister up out of her seat. I can almost hear the collective groan of sadness from the puck bunnies behind the rope as they realize Ridley is leaving the building. “We are each other’s wing people. . .wing person. . .wing woman. You know what I mean. I can’t leave her.”

“Baby girl, you can barely keep your eyes open. You’re all winged out.” Devan laughs but he gives Ridley a concerned glance over her head. It wasn’t like Lia to ever get drunk on nights like this. She isusually watching her brother’s back like the mother hen she is.

“I think you’re right. Lia, we should?—”

“I can make sure Jaz gets home safely, Lia,” I blurt out the words before I can think about it too much. I don’t want her to leave. This is the second time tonight she’s tried to escape. Nope. Not happening. What the hell am I doing?

Jaz narrows her eyes at me for a brief moment, but she surprises me when she doesn’t protest. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed. I want her to show me every aspect of herself, but she stays quiet.

“Yes, Tor, make sure my neigh-bor bestie gets home, or you will have to answer to my-me,” Lia slurs, poking herself in the chest to emphasize her point.

“Yep, you’ve really outdone yourself, baby sis. I never thought I’d see the day when I would be dragging you from the bar,” Ridley teases before he looks over to where I’m sitting. “You good?” He raises a brow, looking between me and Jaz. I brush him off with an eye roll. Of course, I’m fine. Perfectly okay. Abort. Abort. Abort!

“Yes, see you in the morning,” I reply, holding up the drink I’ve been nursing all night. Water, of course. I don’t drink during the season. I watch as Ridley and Devan say goodbye to Jaz. Devan takes the lead, clearing a paththrough the crowd as Ridley half walks, half carries Lia out of the bar. I catch Jaz looking over her shoulder as she watches them exit before she returns her attention to me.

“I thought she was going to be rolling me out of the door tonight,” she says after a short period of silence between us, then pushes her now empty glass to the middle of the table. I am more than happy to just stare but realize that my own silence will give her another reason to call it a night. So, of course, my brain goes haywire.

“You know, my jersey really looks good on you. I think you wear it better than I do.” I smirk, but inwardly cringe. What kind of conversation starter is this?

Jaz throws her head back and Lord, her laugh is infectious. She laughs with her entire body, nothing timid and fake about it. I love it.

“Oh this. It’s a long story. I had no idea who number fifteen was. Lia tossed me a jersey this afternoon and said I needed to blend in. I am just glad it fits.” She shrugs and looks away, tugging at the jersey as she shifts in her seat. Jaz is all woman, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with her voluptuous body. I’ve been salivating over her curves all night. She seems a bit insecure, but she hides it well.

I smile and toss back the rest of my drink. I grin as I catch a glimpse of her eyes on my mouth. Okay, she’s definitely interested. “It fits you just fine.Maybe I should take you under my wing and show you the ropes of being a hockey fan. Wearing my jersey is rule number one.” I hold up my finger.

Jaz leans forward and props her elbow on the table, resting her head on her hand. She’s adorably drunk and I want nothing more than to take her home— No. No. No. I’m flirting. She’s flirting. What am I doing? I ask myself for the thousandth time tonight. Nothing can come of this, even if I want it to.

“I’m warning you now, I know absolutely nothing when it comes to hockey.” She throws her free arm up in the air. “I’m supposed to be writing a hockey romance. My next bestseller! Ha! I came to one game and that doesn’t make me an expert on the subject.” She shakes her head at herself, lips pursed, and I can only assume she is thinking that she’s bitten off more than she can chew. “It was exhilarating to watch, but don’t expect me to drop stats and players names like it’s second nature.”

I sit back and an idea comes to me. There is no way I’m going to walk away from this woman and not want to see her again. I want to get to know her. I want to explore this strange pull happening between us. Maybe I’m being selfish. I’m a hockey player. She’s a writer. I don’t know what their schedules are like, but I know mine is damn near impossible when it comes to connecting with the outside world. But fuck it. “You have a professional sittingright in front of you. Use me.” Yeah, that wasn’t loaded at all.

“Use you?” she asks, surprised, her smile growing as she quickly catches on to my double entendre. She nods in my direction, pleased with my turn of phrase. “So, you’re offering your services.” She winks. Oh, Miss Starr, we are going to have so much fun.

I laugh, and it’s easy and carefree. I’m not worried about the world around us, who’s taking pictures, let alone who wants my attention. It’s just Jaz and me. I like it. I like it a hell of a lot. “Yes, I am offering up my expertise. Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.” I wink flirtatiously. “We’ll start with the basics. I take it this was your first hockey game.”

Jaz nods her head a little too enthusiastically and I know we are reaching the end of this conversation. As much as I want to keep her talking, I can tell the alcohol is taking its toll. “Yes, it was. I am diving headfirst into the world of hockey without a clue.”

“Well consider me your own personal google. I’ll make sure you don’t get some crazed fan trolling your book reviews about your lack of hockey knowledge.” I give her my best professional smile.

She tilts her head, studying me again like she did when we were standing at the bar earlier. I am sure she’s trying to figure me out. “Why? Why would you do that for me? We don’t know each other.” Shegestures toward me with her hand. “You’re a famous NHL player. I’m just a wri?—”

“You’re right, we don’t. Also, don’t downplay who or what you are for me. I play hockey.” I shrug. “You’re a writer. Hell, your job seems more exciting than mine. I want to help you because it gives me a chance to get to know you better. Will you let me get to know you better? I’ll teach you about my world and you can show me more about yours.” I push my seat back and move around the table until I am standing beside her seat with my hand outstretched. Jaz looks up at me, her head tilting back so far that she almost falls out of her chair. I catch her, taking her hand in mine, and there it is again. The spark. It wasn’t a fluke. I didn’t imagine the feeling. I pull Jaz to her feet, and she stumbles into my chest. Her hands land there, and I can’t help but wrap my arm around her waist and hold her close. She melts into me. We fit together, two lost puzzle pieces, slotting into place seamlessly.

Jaz looks up at me, her throat bobs as she swallows from the reaction of our close proximity. I see our forever in her eyes, and for a moment, I imagine her being mine. I can’t help my thoughts as I fit her into every facet of my world in vivid detail. Jaz cheering me on as she holds our child in her arms in the stands, me watching her write during the summer break as we vacation in Canada, then I blink it allaway as quickly as I conjured it into existence.I’m losing my damn mind.

Her hands move just enough to clutch the ends of my lapels as she tries to right herself. But I’ve got her, she won’t fall while she is in my arms. I don’t know where the protective thoughts come from, and I am not going to overthink it. She opens her mouth to answer me, but a flash of light has her looking out into the bar beyond. I frown at the cameras going off and immediately put some distance between us, but not before I reach up and grab her hand again. Fuck. No point in getting upset about it. No matter my intentions, people will see what they want to see and will come to their own conclusion about whatever they think they see. This is why I try to stay out of the limelight. I know it’s unavoidable, but is it fair to drag Jaz into this toxic environment just because she was seen with me?

“Let’s get you home,” I say a little too aggressively. If it bothers her that I am practically dragging her away, she doesn’t show it as I pull her behind me, ignoring the yells from a few of my teammates as we make our way out of The Blue Line. Once we reach the sidewalk, I take in a deep breath of the cold fall air and calm myself as I continue to move toward my car.

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