Page 27 of Trade Deadline

“The worst thing? I got shat on by a bird.”

Jacob drops his hand, trying to suppress his laugh by rolling his lips together.

“It’s not funny! I had to rush home and change my shirt because it was all down my back.”

He holds his hand up. “Please, no grim details. You’ll make me gag.”

Rolling my eyes at my brother, I put my apron on and get back into work mode. We’re nearly sold out, but we still have three custom orders to get finished today.

“You had some visitors while you were out,” Jacob announces, leaning his shoulder against the door jamb. His head tilts to the side as he purses his lips.

“Oh?”

“Does the name Blaine ring any bells?”

My heartbeat speeds up at the sound of his name. I wasn’t expecting to hear from him when I gave him my number. I just put it down to one of those experiences where you meet a hot guy and then never hear from them again. It becomes a story you tell your friends over drinks:Do you remember that time an NHL player asked for my number? Ha, yeah, me too.

But no, he proved me wrong. He’s texted constantly, each time with a cheesier pick-up line than the last.

I can’t deny that I feel giddy being the focus of his attention. That even with the number of people he could be texting, he seems to want to message me.

Maybe he’s texting everyone else the same thing, too.

I grunt at my inner thoughts.

“He wanted to let you know that he’s put two tickets aside for you at will call for tonight's game.”

My mouth drops open, closes, then opens again. “What?” comes out a few octaves higher than usual.

Digging my phone out of my pocket, I see five texts from Blaine on the screen. A slow smile creeps onto my face. Why does he have to be so fucking irresistible when he’s supposed to be a jackass? I don’t know which side of him to believe is real.

Jacob lifts a shoulder. “That’s what he said, but Alex?”

Looking up from my phone, I see my brother's forehead creasing in a deep frown.

“Be careful. He seems like trouble with a capital T, and I don’t want to see you get wrapped up in whatever he’s trying to lure you into.”

Jacob’s been there through every single one of my heartbreaks, so his concern is valid. He’s always thought athletes are shallow, constantly looking for whatever greener grass is on the other side, regardless of who they have to hurt to get there. He went through so much in school, too, that I don’t blame him for being jaded.

“I’ll be careful.” I give Jacob what I hope is a reassuring smile. “But if I’m gonna be getting out on time for the game, I need to get started on these orders!”

But first, I type out a reply to his texts.

Alex

I’ll be there. You better score a goal for me!

* * *

Nate lets out a low whistle.“Wow. I need to bag me a hockey player so I can get some free tickets.”

After I replied to Blaine’s text earlier, I sent one to Nate asking if he was free, since there was no way I’d be coming on my own, and Jacob hates hockey. Luckily, he works for himself, so he managed to shuffle his schedule around to get the night off.

We find our seats—a few rows up from the home bench—and get comfortable. We were late since I didn’t finish as early as I'd hoped and ended up missing warm-up. I watch the Zamboni as it glides over the ice, chewing on the inside of my cheek as anxiety creeps in.

“Do you think any of his teammates wants a fuck buddy?” Nate asks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, silently laughing to myself. He has no filter whatsoever.

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