Page 41 of Suck My Puck

I look at her for a second, surprised at how well she described it.

“That’s exactly how it feels sometimes. Part of a team, but the odd one out since I’m the one in the net,” I say.

“It sounds like you kicked ass tonight.”

I chuckle and tug at the Basher’s baseball cap I’m wearing. “I just played better than expected. It was a nice change from how bad I’ve been sucking lately.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been in a rut. Pretty much ever since the end of last season.”

“Oh.”

I’m quiet while I wonder just how much I should say. I already know Bella doesn’t like hockey for some unknown reason. But she’s engaging in our conversation. She seems like she’s okay with talking about this.

“I, uh, lost the playoffs for us a few months ago.”

Her expression drops. There’s a pained look in her big, gold-brown eyes that hits me right in the chest.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” she says.

“It was my fault.” My tone is curt. I clear my throat. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. “It’s been hard to shake that feeling since then,” I say, my tone back to normal. “I’ve had kind of a rocky start to the season. But tonight I played decent. And we won.”

Bella’s gaze softens. “Well, that definitely calls for bubbles.”

I watch her pop open the champagne bottle and pour it into the flutes.

“So what turned it around for you?” Bella asks.

I try and fail to hold back my grin. When I don’t say anything, she looks up at me.

“You really wanna know?” I ask.

She smiles. “Yeah.”

I grab a champagne glass and take a sip. I lock my gaze with hers as I swallow. “Hooking up with you.”

Her eyes widen the slightest bit. A beat later, the sexiest smile pulls at her lush lips.

“Really?” she says, quirking her brow like she’s intrigued.

I nod, relieved that she’s not pissed.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those superstitious goalies who has to recreate everything you did if you win a game.”

“That’s exactly the kind of goalie I am.”

Her head falls back as she laughs even harder.

When she straightens up, she leans her hip against the bartop, that playful smile still dancing across her lips.

“So what are you saying? That you wanna hook up again?” she asks, her voice soft and low.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

She lets out an exasperated laugh. “God, you’re smug.”

I shrug and nod. She laughs even harder.

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