Page 4 of Keeper
“You did! You playedamazing tonight.”
“So you wouldn’t have blown me if we’d lost?”
“Well …” She trailed off, twirling her finger in the patch of hair between my pecs. “Of course I would’ve, if you still wanted it. But we both know how you get after a loss: all quiet and dark and weird.” She lowered her voice. “And that’sifyou answer your phone at all.”
“Sorry.” I gave a small shrug. “Hockey is my life. I take it seriously.”
Actually, it’d be more accurate to say hockeyconsumesme.
“I know,” she said. “And I get that. It’s why you’re so good.” She let out a small sigh. “I justhate it when you’re in New York and you guys lose, because I only get to see you so often.”
“Good thing we won, then.”
“Yeah. I’ll say,” she said, the cheeriness returning to her voice. She sat up on the bed. “By the way? I watched the game with my guy friends. They’re all Scouts fans whohatethe Devils. So yeah, I totally gloated after every big save you made. I loved rubbing it in their faces after we won—they were soooo mad about it, too! It was great.”
“Guy friends, huh? I bet they want you.”
“Um, ofcoursethey do,” she said, striking a confident pose with her hands on her hips. “Not sure if you realize this, but I’m acatch, Tanner.”
“I know you are.” I gave her a smile. “Hey, you ever think about giving one of those guys a shot?”
She leaned away from me. “What? You mean, like, romantically?” she asked, her nose scrunching.
“Yeah. Who knows? Maybe one of them would be good for you.”
“Ew. Why would you evensaythat to me?” she fired back, bewildered. “I wantyou. Not them.”
A breathless sigh escaped me. I thought we’d had an understanding … but this wasn’t looking good.
“Besides,” she continued, “they’re like, so immature and gross. Trust me, you’re way hotter.”
“I bet you’d give ‘em a shot if they were in the NHL,” I said dryly.
“You’resofunny, Tanner.” She giggled, but I could tell she’d missed my point entirely.She grabbed my hand. “Oh, hey—speaking of my friends, we’re all meeting up for brunch tomorrow morning. Can you come?”
“Can’t. Sorry.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“I’ve got a meeting at my agent’s office at nine. Then we’ve got a flight to Montreal.”
She deflated. “Oh well. I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“I’m a busy guy, Kels.”
“I know.” She paused. “I just want you to meet everyone so badly. You’re like, all I talk about to anyone anymore, and my friends are starting to joke about it.”
“How’s that?”
“Like, they say you’re a figment of my imagination and stuff. You can only claim to be dating an NHL goalie for so long before people want actual proof, you know?”
“Dating?” I asked with a wince. It always went like this. No matter how upfront I am from the very beginning, they always end up getting attached. “I wouldn’t really tell people we’re ‘dating.’ ”
“If we’re not dating, what are we? You always call me when you’re in the city. You come over to my apartment, you take me out to eat, we go out to the club, we have sex …” She gestured that the list went on and on.
“Like I told you before. We’re just having fun.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” she said, and her hand wentwhackon myshoulder. “All I’m saying isI want you to meet my friends sometime. I’m not saying you need to put a ring on it ASAP or anything.” She quickly changed subjects. “Anyway, what’s the meeting with your agent about?”
