Page 51 of Rainbow Kisses

“Sure. I can do lunch tomorrow.”

“Would you…I mean, why don’t you come to my house? We can have a little privacy. You know what this town’s like. The fact that we sat at the same table will be all over town before we finish eating.”

Warning lights should be flashing over my head. We’d be alone. All alone.

Bad move. Very bad move.

“Sure. Sounds like a plan. What time?”

“How about twelve-thirty?

“Want me to bring anything?”

“No. But thanks. I got it covered.”

“Okay, then, I’ll see you at the game. Maddy still okay?”

Rain chuckled just a little. “She’s currently being bossed around by Krista, and my mom’s in her element with all the help. She seems to be having fun.”

Good. “Thanks again, Rain. She deserves to have some fun.”

“You’re good for her, Brian. And she obviously loves you.”

Since I was still working over the accusations Reb had thrown at me, I didn’t know how to answer that. Because I wasn’t so sure I was good for anyone.

“Thanks. I gotta go.”

“See you tonight.”

“Hey,Mr. Whiskers! Can’t believe you were able to get your skates on today. I’ve heard it’s harder for old guys like you to keep up with the younger players. Not as much stamina as you used to have.”

The chirping had been relentless since the first period when I’d whiffed on a shot. But the doubt monster that’d been gnawing at my confidence since this morning had convinced me to pass the puck to another player, who’d had a much tougher angle and had missed the goal. To make things worse, the other team had gobbled up the rebound and taken it down the ice to score.

Which made the score 5-2. And not in our favor.

Fuck me. I thought about telling Coach to fucking bench me so I didn’t do any more damage, but I’d kept my mouth shut because I knew he would do it himself if he wanted. But here I was, out for another shift.

We were in the offensive zone, and the other team was all over our players. Mostly Reid Weller, a second-year, twenty-year-old who could skate like the wind but didn’t have the bulk of some of the other guys. And the kid had a temper, but there was something about him, something that had made the Colonel sign him right out of juniors.

Tonight, though, it was like the other team’s defense had made it their mission to push him over the edge. And I could see the kid’s nerves shredding with every shove, every jab that was almost but not quite a penalty.

Since I was pretty much over this day and not really feeling in a generous mood, I decided to make the other team’s day unenjoyable. Even though I knew I’d pay the price when it was over. Hell, it’d be worth it.

So the next shift, when they started in on Weller, I invited one of the defensemen to dance.

In our league, that means something a little different than in other professional leagues. It means that if we fight, we dance. But I’d deal with that later.

So I smacked the hell out the puck and sent it into the offensive corner. And when dickwad got there before me, I got up nice and close and pinned him to boards, tying the puck up with my skates and stick.

Then I whispered in his ear, “Hey, asshole, you wanna go? Give me your best shot.”

Now, I knew the fans at the boards would be able to read my lips or, at the very least, get the gist of what I was saying and, apparently, they wholeheartedly approved because they bangedon the glass and cheered me with a whole range of profanity-laden comments. Which, honestly, warmed my heart.

They must really hate this guy because soon the entire arena was chanting, “Fight, fight, fight!” and I was happy to oblige. Apparently, so was my dance partner.

The rest of the teams had clumped together, holding each other back like they wanted to join in the fight. Total bullshit. They were waiting for me and the asshole to square off. Finally, the guy got tired of my taunting—and the way I kept giving him a just a little love tap across the numbers with my stick—and turned with a smile.

“You wanna fucking take me on? Let’s do it.”

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