Page 72 of Icing the Play

“Sure.” I headed into the kitchen and plated the pot roast, cutting it into slices. We’d talk more about this while we ate. I brought the food to the table and set it down.

Sitting in a chair at the dinette, he poured wine into the stemware and enjoyed a sip. “That looks so good.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I can a little.” I set some beef slices with carrots and potatoes in au jus on his plate and then served myself. “You were at the hockey game with Eli, right?” Eli probably heard it first.

“Yep.” He cut into the roast and shoved it into his mouth. “Fuck…so good.” He moaned.

I stared, slack jawed, at him. I’d have to cook more often for him. “You told Eli how you felt about me at the game?” There had to be a story.

“I did. I guess I was gushing over you and he figured it out. I just told him he was right.” He stuck a fork in a potato and ate it.

“You were gushing over me, how?” Now I needed the entire story. I cut into my meat and ate a bite, the rosemary and thyme flavoring the beef perfectly.

He leaned close, studying me. “I was getting a little jealous of the ice when you were doing those hip moves.” His brow arched.

“You mean my pregame stretches?” I chuckled and drank some wine. What the hell?

“Yes. It’s a little obscene. You hockey players have no shame.” He choked out a laugh. “Anyway, it was hard watching you get hit and thrown on your ass.” His cheeks pinked.

“Really.” I eyed him over the lip of my wine glass as I took a sip. So, this was love. “I felt the same way about you getting tackled.”

He stopped with a cooked carrot midway to his mouth. “Yeah? You didn’t say anything.”

Shifting in my seat, I said, “I know. You didn’t get hurt.” I dragged a potato through the au jus and ate it. Funny how we both were worried about the other when we played.

“Now I know how my mother felt watching my high school games.” With a chuckle, he shook his head. “Being a trauma nurse, it almost killed her to see me getting tackled.”

“Yeah?” Nodding, I drank more wine. “My mom was a mix of my cheerleader and the team organizer when I was starting out.” I ate a bite of roast. “She was a constant, there in the stands, making sure I got to my games and had all my gear, cheering me on, but never obnoxiously.” She’d done the same for Ethan.

“My dad was always at my games. Mom’s hospital schedule made it hard for her.” He let out a sharp snicker. “But then, dad was a football coach.” He huffed. “And Mom was always waiting to see if I’d show up in the ER.” He grinned, his gaze on his plate. “She was so worried I’d have permanent brain damage.”

“Both of our leagues have done a lot to prevent brain injury.” I drank some wine. I’d studied the new helmet designs for a class project last year. “Hasn’t tackling changed over the years?”

“Hell yes. We target the hips and thighs now and don’t just hit the guy with the ball.” He smirked. “Unlike you hockey players. It looks like the aim in hockey is to pummel the guy with the puck against the boards.”

“It is, eh.” With a soft snort, I ate a carrot. “I can’t lie. I expect when I’m taking a puck up the sides of the rink, I’m going to get mangled at some point.” This was nice, talking sports with him. There was a lot to learn about each other’s sports and it was interesting.

“Tell me the story behind this dinner.” He quirked a brow and drank some wine.

“The story?” I parted my lips. Obviously, he knew this wasn’t normal for me. “I’d told Zoma how I felt about you and?—”

“Oh, Ace and Zoma knew before I did.” With a wry grin, he sat back in his seat and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“They did.” As my cheeks warmed, I bit the side of my lower lip and freed it. “Zoma knew, sort of like Eli figured it out, eh.” I took a deep breath. “This dinner was Zoma’s idea, and the pot roast recipe came from Ace.” Might as well give credit where credit was due. “But I’d decided I wanted to do something special for you.” I leaned in, focusing on him. “You deserved something special, Cooper. You’ve been so open and caring with me.”

His eyes grew glossy, and he grabbed my hand, resting next to my plate. “Thank you, Myles. This means a lot to me. And knowing you love me? It’s the best.” His lips curled into a soft smile.

My heart burst with emotion. My first love…would it be my last? It sure felt like it right now. Leaning across the table, I pressed a hard kiss on his lips. “Love you, Cooper.”

“Love you, my little Canuck.” He giggled and picked up his knife and fork.

“I’m not little.” With a head shake, I ate more food. I wasn’t sure I’d let that term of endearment stick.

“You’re smaller than me. I have what, at least thirty pounds on you and I’m about two inches taller.” He snorted a huff. “I’m a tight end, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fine.” He had a point. “But I’m the right size for my game.” I flashed a toothy smile at him. For the first time, I was feeling confident in hockey and my love life. It was amazing.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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