Page 14 of The Pucking Proposal

Chapter 8

Dalton

We won. We fucking won. Not only that, nothing got past me again.

Final score:Moose: 5. Americans: 0.

“Hell yeah!” Shepherd shouts, working his way around the locker room to high-five everyone. When he gets to me, he grabs my head and plants his forehead against mine. “I told you, man! We’re dominating this season! All. The. Way.”

He continues around the room, not realizing the tsunami of shit our win has started. It worked. I don’t know why, and it’s not my place to question it, but showing Joy my cock gave me luck, confidence, and the ability to defend like Patrick Roy.

This is bad, so bad.

I get cleaned up as slowly as I can, dressing at a pace only a snail would envy, and when I can’t put it off anymore and am the only person left in the locker room, I throw my duffel bag over my shoulder. I take a steadying breath before walking out because I know Joy will be in the hallway, hoping for one-on-one live interviews with the team for the eleven o’clock report, and I don’t know what to say to her.

It worked?

Thanks again?

Uh, we have another game tomorrow night, so ... your place or mine?

Fuuuck. Shepherd is going to eviscerate me if he finds out where I’m getting my newfound confidence and luck. But that’s an issue for future me, and even then, it’s not enough to make me stop. Not when I played the way I did tonight.

In the hallway, I’m surprised to find ... no one. Well, Joy’s cameraman is packing away his gear, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She’s not here. My breath escapes my lungs in a rushing whoosh of relief. Or is it disappointment?

The cameraman throws me a chin lift. “Great game, man.”

“Thanks.”

I walk out of the arena to the parking lot, scanning the space around me. I could lie and say I’m looking for overzealous fans or dangerous drivers, but the truth is ... I’m looking for an annoying, mouthy, pain in my ass good luck charm who’s nowhere to be found.

It’ll be a quick night at Chuck’s since we have a game tomorrow. We Moose like to party, but the team’s responsible about it. One beer, a grilled chicken plate, three glasses of water, and I’ll be out, heading home to hit the hay for my ten very necessary hours. Back-to-back games are rough. When we’re on the road, we can sometimes go straight from the locker room to our hotel rooms, order room service, and crash. Bus ride nights are worse, but not too bad because the boredom helps you drift away. I just have to stretch more the next day.

At home, we’re expected to make an appearance at Chuck’s. Usually I don’t mind, but tonight I have another stop I need to make before my head hits the pillow—Joy’s.

All so I can show her my penis.

How did this become my life?

“Days!” a multitude of voices call out as I enter. Except that it comes out in cheer voices, making it sound like Deeeeeeyyyyyyzzzz.When I was a rookie, one joker would add “Nutz!” to it, but that shit stopped quickly once people realized I wasn’t someone to fuck with.

I lift a hand, waving to the gathered fans. It’s not so crazy in here tonight since it’s a regular game, not the season opener. That’ll help speed things along.

I go straight to the bar and order a Moose special. The bartender hands over my light beer and a huge glass of water. “Five on the chicken. I’ll bring it to your table.”

I nod in appreciation, turning to take my drinks to the Moose area in the corner.

“Double fisting it like a good boy?” Randall Hanovich, our right defender, asks as I sit down. I spy his own water glass and margarita seltzer in front of him and tap the neck of my bottle to his can. Fritzi would be proud of us for following his strict hydration rules.

“Still drinking that sour girlie crap?” I ask, scrunching up my face in disgust.

He takes a long swallow from the can. “Aah.Better than your horse piss.”

That’s an argument waiting to happen, but we both get distracted when a waitress shows up with two grilled chicken and veggie plates. Ravenous after the game, we start shoveling it in, basically swallowing it whole.

Before long, my plate’s empty, my stomach’s full, and I only have one little issue to resolve before I can go to bed.

Thankfully, I won’t have to go as far as I thought because the solution is sitting three tables away with my best friend. Her brother. My biggest obstacle in my quest for mental balance.

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