Page 152 of The Stud

Always with a smile.

Always with a stick tap for everyone else in spite of the fact I was dying inside.

Swallowing the small mass in my throat precedes a meek, “Yes.”

“You recall not asking to switch teams or sports?” Father proudly points out. “You recall deciding to work harder than you had ever worked in your entire life, every opportunity you had? Cardio. Strength training. Stand in games of bloody ball hockey simply to keep your skills sharp and speed swift for the moment you finally had an opportunity to prove your worth.”

A bashful beam can’t be stopped. “Yes.”

“The situation with Arden is exactly the same.”

“He’s right,” Becks abruptly chirps in.

“Ohhhhhh, is that Becks?!” Father excitedly inquires. “Is he finally back?”

“Back from where?” I cluelessly question as he flops down onto the apartment floor beside me.

“I had an interview thanks to Trent,” he informs prior to looking around me into the propped-up phone. “And pretty sure I got it.”

“Splendid!” Father exclaims.

“We knew you would,” Dad warmly agrees prompting me to divert my attention back to my flat mate.

“Interview for what?”

“A job.” Bending his legs to let his arms dangle over his knees is accompanied by his explaining, “They talked to me about my situation over lunch when they were in town visiting for family night. They found out my work sitch was a little grimmer than I wanted to let on, and your dad gave me the much needed ‘life isn’t over after hockey’ talkmon propre pèredidn’t while your father said he’d make a few calls to some of the private institutes in the state and see if they had anything.” An almost shy grin slides onto his face. “Dyr College right here in Dalvegan were not only willing to see me buthire meto be an assistant scout for their hockey team as long as my drug test comes back completely clean.”

“And it will,” leaves me alongside a sharply pointed finger of my tennis ball holding hand.

“Yeah.” He snatches the ball out of my hold. “I’m good.”

“Congratulations!” Father shouts from his end of the phone.

“Major stick taps.” I deliver a hard but friendly pat on the back. “Glad you’ll be putting those puckhead skills to good use.”

“Thanks, bud.” One throw is all he executes prior to meeting my crystal gaze again. “But your father’s right about the relationship shit he just said.”

“Really?” Grabbing the round object is instant. “This from the pigeon who fired a fucking bottle rocket at our relationship like a bloody month ago?”

“Yeah.” An innocent shrug bounces his suit covered shoulders. “I wanted to know if the shit between youse guys was aseasonthing or acareerthing and considering the lengths you two went to to prove to the other one it’s the latter, I think it’s safe to agree with your old man about not giving up because you’re currently benched.”

My grip on the ball mindlessly tightens.

“Truthskies?” His voice shifts to a more serious tone. “Hockeyhasan expiration date, Frosky. Love doesn’t have to.”

Chapter 27

Tanner

This afternoon is apparently justfullof shit I do not need.

First my downstairs neighbor complaining that my ball bouncing woke up his overly chatty cockatoo, then my car having a flat, and now running into the person that should be put in the box for herconstantunsportsmanlike conduct as well as her delay of game tactics.

“Frossskkyyyy,” Audrey happily sings during my exiting of the elevator. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Keeping my composure is an award-winning feat. “Please know that the feeling is mutual.”

“Aw,” her giddy bounce in place informs me she has no idea what I said wasn’t a compliment, “you are the charmiest.”

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