Page 113 of In My Hockey Era
She shakes her head.“It’s too soon, isn’t it?”
I touch her cheek, guide her mouth to mine again.“Not for me it isn’t.”
“Fine.You jerk.I love you too,” she whispers.
41
THE BOOK CLUB RETURNS
Lucy
Itake a slow sip of my iced coffee, standing off to the side of the packed bookstore, watching as an employee arranges stacks of books on the table near the front.A massive banner overhead reads:Stampede Book Club – Live Discussion with Lucy Quinn & Bennett Wilder!
The words still feel surreal, even as I glance around at the crowd—hundreds of fans packed into the space, buzzing with excitement, some wearing jerseys, others clutching well-worn paperbacks to their chests.
This whole thing started as a joke, and yet, here we are.
Officially together.Officially co-hosting a book club event.
I glance over at Bennett, who is leaning against a bookshelf, looking ridiculously good in a fitted black Henley and jeans, signing someone’s copy ofPlaying for Keepsand chatting animatedly with a fan.He grins at something she says, then catches my eye from across the room.And damn it, my stomach does that stupid flippy thing it’s been doing ever since I stopped pretending I wasn’t completely gone for this man.
He winks.
I roll my eyes.
His grin only widens.
Vivian claps her hands near the front of the store, bringing the event to order.“Alright, everyone!Welcome to another Stampede Book Club event!And this time, we have a special treat—we’ve got not one, buttwoco-hosts tonight.”
The crowd cheers, and Bennett nudges my side as we step up to the front together.
“C’mon, Quinn, don’t look so excited.”
I shoot him a side-eye.“Oh, trust me, Wilder.The thrill ispalpable.”
A few people in the front row laugh, clearly picking up on our usual banter.
Ben smirks.“That’s the spirit.”Then, into the microphone, he announces, “Alright, so how many of you actually readPlaying for Keepsfor this month’s discussion?”
A sea of hands shoots up.
“And how many of you,” he continues, turning slightly toward me, “are still skeptics when it comes to sports romance?”
I scowl.“Why are you looking at me?”I ask into my own microphone.
The crowdloses it.
He grins, resting his forearm on my shoulder like he justknowshe’s about to make my life difficult.“Because, babe, you’re the one who swore up and down that hockey romance was unrealistic.”
The fansgasp.Someone in the back yells,“Blasphemy!”
I hold up my hands.“Okay, okay, let me clarify.I just meant thatrealhockey players don’t talk like romance heroes.And before you all argue, I live with this guy now.I have proof.”
Bennett places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.“Excuse me?I’m a delight.”
I ignore him.“Listen, it’sgreatthat you all love these books, and I respect the genre, I do.But I just don’t get it.”
Bennett shakes his head, grabbing his mic again.“See, this is where she’s wrong.Becauseweare literally living a sports romance, and she refuses to acknowledge it.”
