Page 96 of The Stud

“He didn’t have an E collection when he played for us.”

“He didn’t not have one.”

Huh.

Really?

No.

I would’ve known.

Fuck.

Ishould’veknown.

How did I miss that?

How did shecatchthat?

“What would you be interested in doing post life in the barn?” Soft snores from Bear warrant her stare to lovingly fall to him. “Analyzing?”

“Strategy is not really my strong suit.”

“Speaking?”

“It’s likeHot Ones.I’d rather play hockey than simply discuss it.”

“Coaching?”

“No.”

“Training?”

The idea receives an intrigued hum.

“Oooo,” my girlfriend purrs, turning her unbuckled frame towards mine. “Does Hamster Boy like the idea of training other players?”

“He doesn’thatethe idea.”

“Let’s talk shop then…”

For almost the remainder of our drive, we cycle through where my skills as well as what I’ve learned could be put to good use post hockey to a soundtrack mixture of Maluma, Shakira, and Bear’s loud – almost otherworldly – snores.

Our arrival into the small town not only instantly receives the jaw dropping response I was hoping for but the kid at Christmas one most adults don’t get to display themselves. “Ohmyg…” She cuts herself off by frantically tapping my bicep. “Ohmyg…” Girlish shrieks escape prompting Bear to lift his head. “Ohmyg…”

This time our fluffy backseat passenger releases a low woof in disapproval.

“I know, mate,” I playful poke while pulling over to the side of the downtown road. “She reallyshouldfinish at least one of those.”

A sassy sneer is twitched my way before asking, “How did you find this place?”

“You mean how did I locate one of your best kept secrets?”

“It’s not a secret,” she argues at the same time I kill the engine. “I told you about it the first time we hung out alone.”

“Ah,” one finger lifts into the air, granting me a moment to turn to face her, “you told me Dos Santos and a food truck, not thelocation-”

“Figured it would be pretty obvious considering you can drive through the whole downtown area in like seven minutes flat.”

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