Page 112 of Icy Pucking Play

"Am I?" She presses back against me. "Because I seem to remember this position leading to very different activities in the past."

Mike groans. "We can hear you, you know."

"Then stop eavesdropping!" Sophie says.

"Stop being disgustingly cute!" Tom replies.

"Never!" She turns to face me. "It's in my contract now. Article 3, Section 2: 'Must consistently remind the Ice Man that he's actually a teddy bear’."

"I am not…"

"Tell that to the video of you teaching Natalia to butterfly slide in the kitchen." She pokes my chest. "The internet loves that clip, by the way. Almost as much as they love the one of you falling asleep during movie night."

"You posted that?"

"Julia posted that. I just...provided the footage."

"Traitor."

"Smart journalist." She kisses my jaw. "Always document the important moments."

"Speaking of documenting," I say, pulling her closer, "care to explain why there's a color-coded chart of my saves on our fridge?"

"That's for science."

"Science?"

"Mmhmm. Natalia's science project. We're tracking the correlation between your save percentage and how many times you smile at practice."

Mike laughs. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Nope!" Sophie replies. "The data is very conclusive. His glove-side saves improve twelve percent when he's in a good mood and smiling."

"I do not…"

"The numbers don't lie, Ice Man." She taps my chest. "When you're happier, you're better. Simple physics."

"So hockey isn’t physics-resistant like golf?"

"Absolutely not." She grins up at me. "And you just needed the right scientist to show you that."

"Is that what you are? A scientist?"

"Among other things." She slides her hands up my chest. "Journalist. Math tutor. Golf disaster. Expert Ice Man translator."

"Translator?"

"Someone has to translate your grunts and glares to normal people."

I laugh despite myself. "Normal people?"

"You know, people who don't speak fluent grump." She gives me a serious expression. "'Hmph' means 'I love you, but I'mtoo stoic to say it’. 'Whatever' means 'you're right, but I'll never admit it’. And my personal favorite…"

I kiss her, mostly to shut her up. Mostly.

"Get a room!" Tom insists.

"We have a golf cart," Sophie calls back without looking.

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