Page 66 of Friendzone Hockey
“Oh, uh, I’m not really working, I’m—” My glare cuts off whatever the fuck he was gonna say. “I got you,” he says instead.
I’m a beer guy, but I’m also the guy who loves a French 75. Stacey knows. He also knows I like mine with extra lemon and Empress gin rather than the standard well gin. I don’t get the same high-performance show, but Stacey always puts a little flare into his cocktails. I get to watch those massive biceps of his go to work again as he shakes my drink over ice.
He slides the flute into my hand, his fingers graze mine, and little bubble-pop tingles float over my knuckles and down my arm. I don’t miss the furious anger in his stare.
“How come he gets rewarded for being a fucking brat, Daddy,” Trent complains.
“Language, sweetheart,” Stacey says, but his dark eyes stay on me. Know what? I’m gonna cut out his damn tongue if he calls either of them that one more time.
“This a good moment to tell you we’re engaged?” Casey says. That’s him trying to break up my and Stacey’s weird-ass silent fight over … damned if I know.
“You’re what?” Stacey’s head snaps to Casey. He reaches across the bar to grab his hand and take a full look at the ring. Huh, was this enough to pull Stacey from the weird hippy haze he’s been living in this past week? Stacey smiles. “That’s great,bro! Congratulations. This calls for a celebration. Everyone, you hear that? My little brother’s engaged. Drinks on me.”
Loud whoops and whistles sound through the place.
“I’m your twin brother, asshole, but thanks,” Casey says.
The real bartenders pull out bottles of champagne and pour for the whole restaurant. Stacey saunters from behind the bar and the twins follow like lost kittens. God, I hate them.
I down my drink like it’s a shooter. Fuck this. I’m getting plastered tonight. I hold out my glass for the bartender.
“To Sutterchuck,” I say, and send it down the hatch. “You can leave the bottle,” I tell the bartender.
Stacey doesn’t like that. He can read me like a book by this point and probably knows what I’m up to just not why I’m up to it. He doesn’t stop me, but his eagle eyes keep me in their sights.
“Tell us about it,” Stacey says. “How did he finally ask you?”
Casey gets a sparkle about him. “He got down on one knee in the dark, buck naked, nothing but a headlamp on.”
“Yeah, still have the fucking scar to prove it. I knelt on a rock,” Sutter says, lifting his chest.
“You didn’t have to stay down there like that, dumbass,” Case says, but it’s clear Casey’s glad he did. As if he slayed a dragon or whatever.
Sutter takes that as his cue to crowd around Casey, staking his claim all over again as if Sutter knows he needs it. I’m not into Sutter, but when he does stuff like that, I get … something. A furling through my body. The announcement of a need I didn’t know I had. Or maybe I did, but I don’t like to think about it. It’s a thing I don’t get from Syd.
“I’d kneel on a thousand rocks for you, kitten.”
Blech. When did Sutter become Prince Fucking Charming?
“So, when’s the wedding?” I ask. I don’t think I can hear any more about wedding proposals.
Casey takes Sutter’s bear-paw hand. “Actually, we were hoping everyone would join us in Vegas just before training camp.”
“Shit. Why so soon?” I ask.
“Because Sutter wants to own me on paper.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t bother trying to explain how wrong and how not a thing that is.”
“Yeah, because I’m not wrong and it is a thing, Alderchuck.”
“Is it still gonna be Alderchuck?” I ask. Sutter doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to do hyphens.
Casey facepalms. “Don’t start this argument again.”
Sutter shrugs. “Not much of an argument, kitten.”
“Do you two ever agree on anything?” I ask.
“No,” they say at the same time and that’s cause for them to break down with laughter. They rub noses and Sutter nips at his jaw before he sucks Casey’s bottom lip into his mouth.
