Page 4 of One Goal in Mind

I take a minute to peruse the menu; my stomach is already growling. After settling on a burger with mushrooms, caramelized onions, and blue cheese, I flag down the bartender.The combination should ward off anyone attempting to flirt with me.

“What’ll it be?”

“I'll do a blue cheese burger and a stout. What do you have?”

He rattles off a few options, and I order one with a lower ABV. While I joked in the post-game interviews about skipping cardio, I won’t be, and being slightly hungover while running six miles isn’t my idea of fun.

As the bartender sets my beer in front of me and replaces Beav’s IPA, two women sit to my right, both wearing Caribou jerseys. If I keep to myself, there’s a good chance they won’t recognize me. The blonde directly next to me raises her hand to get the attention of the bartender, giggling, “Two shots of your finest tequila, fine sir. It’s my birthday!”

“I’m not drinking tequila,” her friend grumbles.

“Yes, you are.” She then asks me, “Can you tell my boring friend she should have a birthday shot with me?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask. I’m too old for shots,” I chuckle, and as I glance over at her friend, I do a double take, all of the air leaving my lungs.

Of all the bars…

Beav leans over to reply, “I’m not too old, I’ll drink hers.” Scarlett hasn’t looked up from her phone, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. Beav finally notices why I’m tongue-tied like a damn schoolboy and laughs, “Hey! It’s kiss cam girl.”

Scarlett finally looks over at us, her cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of dark pink. “Oh, um, yes. That’s me.”

“You had this one all worked up today.” He nudges my shoulder, and I’m officially in hell.

The blonde gasps. “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you both!” She smacks Scarlett’s arm and whispers to her, but I can still make out her saying, “Your boyfriend is here.”

Boyfriend?

Scarlett having a boyfriend is the best possible solution, but my mind conjures up an image of her having an intimate dinner or cuddling on the couch with some asshole. I don’t even know this girl, but an irrational pang of jealousy settles in my gut.

I blow out a long breath and rake a hand through my hair. She’s just a beautiful woman, I see beautiful women every day. Why the fuck am I acting like this?

“Make that four shots of tequila!” Beav yells to the bartender.

He sets four tall shot glasses on the bar and pours what’s closer to three shots into each one. Bile rises in my throat with each glass he fills. Once he slides them over, the birthday girl toasts, “To me! Thirty is the new twenty!” I huff a small laugh; she’s certainly acting twenty.

Beaver and Blondie take their shots, downing them in one go, while Scarlett and I don’t so much as look at ours. Beav elbows me, but I shake my head. With a smirk, he snatches my shot glass and finishes mine. The birthday girl does the same to Scarlett’s, and my eyes catch on our numbers on their jerseys. Did they follow us here? Scarlett seemed uninterested at the game, but maybe I got this all wrong. Her brother is on the coaching staff, why wouldn’t she love hockey? None of this makes sense.

“You had an amazing game tonight.” Blondie offers her hand. “Rachel.”

I take it, and this is the part of every introduction I hate—they know me and my name, but I feel obligated to tell them all the same. “Russ.”

“I know.” She winks, and my food can’t arrive fast enough. “So, what are your plans for the night?”

I’m in no mood for small talk, and I sure as fuck don’t want to flirt with her. I should order my burger to go and get the hell out of here. I’m about to flag down the bartender when Beav replies, “Having dinner with you two.”

Fuck. Me.

“She’s Coach North’s sister, and the birthday girl could be literally anyone,” I whisper to him. “We should get out of here.”

“That’s a great idea,” he announces, and I pin him with a glare.

“What’s a great idea?” Scarlett asks, nervously biting her lip. The way I want to take it between my own teeth… No. She has a boyfriend.

The bartender sets my burger down, and I’ve never been so grateful for an interruption. The blue cheese is pungent, and I’m hoping it does its job. I take a long drink of my beer but nearly spit it out when Beaver suggests, “Taking our dinner to go and celebrating a birthday at my place.”

Motherfucker…

“That would be so much fun,” Rachel squeals. “That burger looks amazing, but maybe I should order it with no onions or bluecheese.” She then raises her arm to get the bartender’s attention. “Hi, sorry, could we do a to-go order.”

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