Page 89 of Icing the Play

“The guy was a hockey fan.” Shaking his head, Leo chuckled. “I guess the guy noticed you and wanted to hook up with you, but he never got the chance because he was always working.”

“Really?” I stared at them. Shit, I wanted another shot, be we only had one during a celly. I didn’t want to undo what they’d just done for me.

Cooper peered at me and sat beside me. “You are never going to that bar without me.” His brow arched.

My gaze cut to his. “Why?”

With a scoff, Cooper said, “I don’t want the bartenderlooking at you. You’re mine.” With a soft grin, he pressed a long kiss on my lips. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Who’s playing goalie tonight?” Ace brought the opened bottles of champagne and more glasses to the table.

“Not me.” Mason wrapped an arm around Jett’s shoulders.

“I will. I’m pretty good at it.” Cooper blew on his fingernails and drank some champagne, wagging his brows at me.

Archer patted my shoulder from behind and leaned down. “Hey, I’m going to get you some state-of-the-art knee therapies that will get you back on the ice in four weeks, tops. Maybe even three.”

“Are you serious?” Archer studied exercise science, and his father was an NHL coach. He knew things.

“Hell yeah.” He flashed me a warm smile.

“Don’t worry, Myles, you’re going to get the best treatment plans from the Blackhawks too.” Tyler dropped beside me on the other side of Cooper. “I love you, man.” He rested his head on mine.

“Love you, too.” I sighed. I sure hoped they were right. But tonight, I wouldn’t worry about it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

COOPER

Afew weeks had passed since Myles’s injury and he’d made incredible progress, thanks to his friends. It was Thanksgiving Day, and they expected Myles to play next weekend. He didn’t need the crutches anymore, which was nice with my parents coming into town.

“Babe, so when are they going to be here?” Myles checked the turkey in the oven, a red apron covering his thin blue sweater. “I hope we did this right.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. How hard can it be?” I sauntered into the kitchen and poured an interesting red wine Jett had suggested into Myles’s almost empty wine glass, resting on the counter by the stove. I wanted to surprise my parents with how grown up I’d become. “Here.” I handed the glass to Myles.

He sipped it. “You know, this is great. I’m not normally a wine drinker.” Setting the glass down, he adjusted the brace hidden underneath his jeans. “I can’t wait to not have to wear this thing anymore. It’s itchy, eh.”

I poured some wine for myself. Since we didn’t have any good stemware in the house, I’d bought some fancy ones at the local Target last night. Was Myles bringing out a domestic side I didn’t know I had? Yes. I checked the time on the stove. It was alittle after two p.m. “My parents should be here any minute.” I sipped the wine, the flavors of spice and cherry mixing in my mouth. Damn, this was good. “My mom likes to be fashionably late. It drives my dad crazy, but?—”

The doorbell rang.

Myles shot straight up, his eyes widening. “Oh shit, they’re here.” He checked the gravy heating on the stovetop. “I hope they don’t figure out we bought gravy in a jar.”

“Don’t worry about it. My mom’s happy as hell to be here.” I kissed his cheek.

The doorbell chimed again.

“Coming.” I waltzed to the front door and swung it open. “Hi.” I beamed at them, warmth flickering through my insides.

Mom and Dad both smiled at me while Mom draped her arms around me for a tight hug. “Oh my God, Cooper. Look at you.” She released me and held me out, grabbing my shoulders. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“You look great, son.” Dad patted me on the back as he stepped inside, his enormous frame filling the doorway. “Now, where is your hockey playing boyfriend?”

Myles dried his hands on a dishrag and tossed the apron over his head, setting them both on the counter. Adjusting his sweater, he smiled widely and stretched a hand out to Dad. “Hello, Jim. It’s so nice to see you in person.”

Grabbing Myles’s hand in both of his, he gave it a vigorous shake. “The pleasure is all mine, son.” Freeing his hand, he looked Myles over. “How’s the knee?”

“It’s getting better every day.” Myles bent his leg and straightened it.

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