Page 58 of Hooked On Them

I cleared my throat. “You played in college, right?”

Carter’s eyes flickered to me momentarily. “Yeah, for a bit. Club team, nothing serious.”

“Which position?”

A barely perceptible pause. “Forward. Wing, mainly.”

“Huh.” I nodded, filing this information away to use later. “What college again?”

“Columbia.”

“Columbia doesn’t have a club hockey team,” Stevens said innocently. They did, but clearly Carter didn’t know that.

Carter’s smile tightened at the corners. “It was... unofficial. More like a rec league, really.” He was lying out of his ass, and everyone at the table knew it now.

“Sure it was.” I smirked, already planning on giving him more shit about this. It was my job as team captain to call players out, and I was going to happily extend that to management as well.

Carter cleared his throat, reaching for his beer with the desperation of a man clinging to a life raft. “So, Nora, how’s the skating coaching going? Any of these guys giving you trouble?”

Smooth transition there, Campbell. Real subtle.

Nora took pity on him. “They’re not too bad.”

Her hand squeezed my knee under the table, and I nearly choked on my beer. Was that part of the act or an unconscious gesture? Either way, my body was fully on board, warmth spreading from that point of contact like wildfire.

“You should come to practice sometime,” Nora suggested to Carter, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’d love to see your hockey skills in action.”

Carter’s face went from tan to ghostly pale so quickly I thought he might pass out. He took a long gulp of his beer before answering.

“Me? On the ice with these guys?” He laughed nervously. “That would be like throwing a chihuahua into a wolf den. I’d rather keep all my teeth, thank you very much.”

“Don’t worry,” Porter chimed in. “We’d go easy on you.”

Carter clutched his chest dramatically. “My insurance policy specifically excludes death by hockey player. It’s in the fine print.”

“What if we bubble-wrapped you first?” Jensen suggested.

“Then I’d be a more cushioned target.” Carter’s expression turned thoughtful. “Although I did excel at being a human bowling pin in college...”

The table erupted into laughter, and I reluctantly joined in. The guy was annoyingly likable, even if he probably couldn’t tell a hockey stick from a pool cue.

The front door swung open, revealing Dominic’s imposing figure. He paused, scanning the room, his gaze skimming over our table before he headed straight for the bar.

Nora’s hand stiffened on my knee. I glanced at her profile, noting the way her eyes followed Dominic across the room, the slight furrow forming between her brows as he didn’t even glance our way. Each time she looked at him, something inside me twisted uncomfortably.

“—think so, Collins?”

I snapped back to attention. “Sorry, what?”

Porter rolled his eyes. “I said Carter should wear goalie pads and we could use him for target practice.”

“Extremely hard pass.” Carter laughed, though his attention had also shifted toward the bar.

I watched as Nora’s gaze drifted to Dominic for the third time. So what if I was counting? She was trying to be subtle, but was about as successful as a neon sign in a dark alley. Carter noticed too, his expression flickering briefly with something that looked almost like resignation.

“I’m going to grab a few more pitchers.” I slid out from the bench. Nora gave me a questioning look. “And convince our resident grump to be social.”

I made my way to the bar, weaving through the Saturday night crowd. Dominic sat hunched over a glass of what looked like straight whiskey, giving off leave-me-alone vibes that would deter most sane people.

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