Page 2 of Replay

“Good to know. I’ve got some stuff arriving at the condo from the freight company, so I’m not staying for lunch. I’ll see you later?”

“Later!”

He headed for the shower while I pulled off my jersey.

“So, ‘meeting people’ is hooking up, right?”

I looked up at…Foster, I think his name was. One of the new guys. He’d taken off his pads but still had his underlayers on. “Yeah, I guess, but be careful.”

He nodded. “I carry protection.”

“That’s good, but I meant be careful that no one gets hurt, right?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Hurt?”

“Don’t promise shit if you don’t mean it. Don’t say you’ll call when you won’t.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Like that, was it? “No means no.”

He shrugged. Fine. I’d tell Petey to watch out for him, and I couldn’t imagine a better cockblocker.

The nine of us had snagged the usual tables at the back, under the second floor of the Top Shelf. The bar was close to the arena downtown, so we usually met up here after games.

The place was popular with the local athletes since there was a sign out front: No selfies, no autographs, or no service. Management kicked out patrons who bothered us. Not that we didn’t do some pics and stuff, but people were discouraged from crowding us.

That didn’t include the puck bunnies though. There were now fourteen people squeezed around our tables. One brave woman had tried flirting with Petey, but that didn’t last long. Royster was cozied up with another. And two of the newbies, not Foster, were flirting with a couple of cute blondes.

Fitch was talking hockey to the other wannabes who’d come out with us, and some of the girls were listening in. Fitch wasn’t wearing a wedding ring because he was almost divorced, but he somehow deflected the women without saying anything. Awesome superpower. I had a woman sitting tight beside me, leaning over so her boobs were right there. A sure thing, a nice way to end the day.

But my dick just wasn’t interested.

I hadn’t hooked up much over the summer. I’d been training hard, but it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was the end of last season. Losing in overtime in the Stanley Cup finals had kicked us all in the balls, and something, I dunno what, had just taken away my urge to hook up as frequently as I used to. Maybe I was getting old. I was twenty-four now.

In any case, this woman wasn’t doing it for me.

“Uh, I’m going to—” No, I couldn’t say go to the head, or she’d offer to blow me back there. “The bar. Can I get you something?”

She looked over. It was crowded and it didn’t look fun. Normally I’d wave for a server, but the puck bunny didn’t know that. Fortunately, she didn’t offer to follow me.

“A cosmo?”

“Sure.” I’d bought a few of those over the years. I wouldn’t have trouble remembering her choice.

I slid out of my seat, a little faster than was probably polite, but I needed some space. From her. It wasn’t like I would get space at the bar, but I wouldn’t be pressed up against someone hoping to bag a hockey player for the night. Hopefully.

There was a reason I normally flagged down someone to take my order: I wasn’t tall. Officially I was the shortest guy on the team, but I think Barnes fudged his height. It took a few minutes before I got close enough to ask for a cosmo and a Keith’s ale. The bartender recognized me and promised to add it to my tab.

“I didn’t take you for a cosmo drinker.” The voice beside me was husky, feminine and amused.

I turned to see a redhead sitting at the bar. She was hot, but older, watching me with a little smile. “It’s not for me. It’s for?—”

“Your date?”

I shook my head. “Someone I’m trying to get rid of, honestly.”

The woman laughed. “Not sure buying her a drink is going to do that.”

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