Page 50 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

And then I let her go so I can grab my clothes off the floor where we left them last night, ignore the fact I can feel two sets of eyes on my ass in these pants, grab my keys, and head out to my truck. I don’t even care if the neighbors see me in Molly’s pajama pants. I’m too happy to be worried about the fashion police. An hour later, when I finally get to practice after showering and changing at my place, I still can’t wipe the grin off my face.

“What is wrong with your face?” Druggy asks in his heavy accent, warming up before sliding onto the ice.

“Nothing, dude. This is called a smile. You should try it sometime.” I copy his moves.

“I save all my smiles for Chloe and Ayana.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, we know.” Those two are the only humans on the planet that can make Druggy seem like a normal, happy guy.

“Uh oh, Bobby finally got a date with the MILF?” Cappy sing-songs as he skates by at a snail’s pace in his warm up pads.

I feel irritation at anyone else calling her a MILF, but oddly, there’s no pounding heart or sheet of red that coats my vision. “It was only a matter of time, boys. Watch and learn from the master.”

“More like master-bater,” Dan-O snickers as he takes the ice.

“Says the guy spanking the monkey in our hotel room with your wifey on the phone,” I holler at his back. The guys just cheer him on. There’s no shame among hockey players.

“At least I have a wife, Roadie!”

The boys all hoot and holler, a few even shouting “burn!” like we’re in fifth grade. I step out onto the ice and grin like an idiot, happy for the day, happy to be with these assholes, and happy I have another date to plan with my woman.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Molly

“Did we leave room for dessert?” the waiter asks with a lift of his manicured eyebrows.

“Actually, we’ve got that covered already,” Bobby answers before I can even contemplate forcing another bite of food into my full belly.

It’s been four days since Bobby modeled my pajama pants for Ramona in my kitchen, and they’ve been the best four days of my entire year. Bobby is so attentive, full of energy, and easy to be with he makes me feel like I’m in my twenties again. And he’s performed a miracle on my sexual confidence.

The waiter nods and retreats as I shoot my date a quizzical look. He’s dressed in a knit polo shirt with charcoal slacks that fit him like a glove and his hair tamed with some type of styling product. He looks good enough to eat—if I weren’t already so full, I mean.

“I picked up a key lime pie earlier. It’s back at my place.”

“Ah, very sneaky.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He feigns innocence, both dimples popping when he can’t hold the expression. I wonder what the other patrons would think if I climbed over the table right now and straddled him right there in his chair.

“I should probably tell you now that I get Matty back tomorrow, which means no more sleepovers, Mr. Rhodes.” I dab my lips with the white cloth napkin and drop it on my empty plate.

“Mr.Rhodes? How formal. But you forget I’ve seen you naked, Sparkle.”

The waiter returns to drop our check, but Bobby hands him his credit card before the leather folder even hits the table. As soon as we stepped into the restaurant two hours ago, I made up my mind not to fight Bobby for the check. The menu doesn’t have prices listed, which told me it waswayabove my budget. I’ll pay when I choose the restaurant. I hope Bobby likes ramen.

I wait until we’re alone again to respond, “How can I forget? Every time I move a muscle, I’m reminded of our activities.”

Bobby frowns. “You didn’t tell me that. Did I hurt you?”

I laugh. “No. I’m just way out of practice, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m more than happy to get you back into the habit.”

“How very noble of you.”

Bobby signs the check and then stands to escort me through the dining room. I catch more than a few pairs of eyes trained our way, reminding me I’m out with a local celebrity and have opened myself to public scrutiny. Damn.

I can’t help the heat rising to my face when a woman whispers to another at her table and they both laugh. They don’t even try to pretend they’re not talking about us! What happened to female solidarity?!

---