Page 22 of Hooked On Them

“Sorry about that.” She adjusted her napkin in her lap and looked right at Dominic. “Did I miss anything important?”

I cleared my throat, desperately searching for words that wouldn’t make this awkward situation even worse. “Just hockey talk. Nothing interesting.”

“Hmm.” She took a long sip of her milkshake, managing to stay composed even as unease simmered beneath the surface.

Dominic shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the table. I could practically see the gears turning in his head, probably trying to decide if he should acknowledge what she’d overheard or pretend it never happened.

Thankfully, Deb chose that moment to arrive, setting down plates heaped with greasy, delicious comfort food.

Nora popped a fry into her mouth and closed her eyes, making a sound that was almost inappropriate for a public setting. “I take back every disparaging thing I ever said about New York food.”

“Told you.” I bumped my shoulder against hers gently. “Life-changing.”

Her reaction broke some of the awkwardness, and I couldn’t help but laugh as she did a happy little shimmy dance in her seat. Even Dominic’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners, though he quickly schooled his features.

But as we ate and I repeatedly watched Nora’s eyes flick toward Dominic and the way Dominic’s entire body seemed oriented toward her, I knew that normal was the last thing this situation was.

And where that left me was a question I wasn’t ready to answer.

Chapter9

Astronomically Unlikely

Nora

Five weeks of hockey season had flown by with the fury of a blindside check, and I was still somehow standing. November had arrived with its typical New York attitude: cold, demanding, and completely unsympathetic to my workload. While the team was on their away series, I’d been left behind with hours of game footage that made my eyeballs feel like I’d rubbed them with sandpaper.

I was grateful that most of the time skills coaches didn’t travel with the team, but that didn’t mean I got a vacation. If anything, I was working harder, analyzing every play from afar while also working with injured players and developing plans for our farm team.

And now, after a long day, I had book club. The thought of socializing when my body felt like it had been put through a washing machine set to destruction mode wasn’t appealing, but maybe I needed something that didn’t involve hockey to put some pep in my step.

So here I was, dragging my exhausted ass up to the penthouse condo that Paige shared with her three boyfriends. It was a living situation that still boggled my mind but somehow worked perfectly for her. The place was straight out of a magazine, all floor-to-ceiling windows capturing Manhattan’s skyline and Central Park like it was a painting created just for them.

“You made it!” Paige squealed, pulling me into a hug at the door. “Libby’s already inside demolishing the charcuterie board.”

“I brought wine.” I lifted the bottle weakly, like it was a forty-pound kettlebell.

She took the bottle and guided me inside. “The boys have made themselves scarce. They’re having a dude night with Libby’s guys.”

“All five of them?” I knew Paige’s three partners and Libby’s two partners were friends, but I had no clue they were at ‘dude night’ level.

“Yep. They’re surprisingly good at sharing.” She giggled, and I pretended to gag, even though I was secretly fascinated by how she and Libby both managed to juggle multiple men. Thinking about all the testosterone and the male grossness made me shudder.

Libby waved from her spot on the enormous sectional sofa, where she was seated with two other women. She introduced me to Olivia and Julie, who both worked with Paige.

I sank into the couch, the plush cushions threatening to swallow me whole as I yawned hard enough to make my head swim. Stress and sleep deprivation seemed to finally be catching up to me.

“Are you okay?” Libby pushed a cheese plate toward me. “You look like you could use some brie therapy.”

“Just tired.” I waved her concern away.

“Well, this is just what you need to wake up.” Paige poured everyone generous glasses of wine. She handed me mine, and the smell hit me like a punch to the gut.

I discreetly set the glass on the coffee table without taking a sip as Libby launched into an animated discussion about the book that we’d all started reading. I was behind where we were supposed to be but didn’t mind spoilers.

I tried to focus on the conversation, but my brain felt fuzzy, and my body seemed to be operating on a five-second delay. The fatigue I’d been battling all week was reaching new heights now that I was on a comfortable sofa.

Paige nudged me, leaning close so only I could hear. “What’s wrong?”

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