Page 46 of Slew Foot
“What?” Mickey asked testily, peering out at him through the sliver between his eyelids and his arm but unwilling to move otherwise.
“You and Rafe. What the fuck?”
“What about us?” Mickey asked.
“C’mon. You can’t tell me there isn’t a little something happening there.” Tanner waggled his eyebrows.
Mickey closed his eyelids and settled his arm more firmly across his eyes. There, now he wouldn’t have to look at Tanner’s stupid face anymore.
“Nothing is happening,” he protested.
I just have a massive crush on him and can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to put him on his knees and tell him exactly what I want him to do, he finished silently. Because he sure as hell wasn’t telling Tanner.
It was bad enough that Tanner had figured some of it out on his own. Ugh. He wasn’t even that smart and he’d put the pieces together.
Anyone with half a braincell would catch on. Thankfully, Mickey was pretty sure Rafe was too oblivious to notice.
And he meant that with the utmost affection because Rafe was so sweet but he was … kind of a himbo. Like, he wasn’tstupid. He had a lot of hockey smarts, and he could knit and he was funny and …
Ugh. This was getting so bad.
At first, he’d thought the not-so-bright but sweet vibes were because Rafe was tired from his trip and still adjusting to the new team but the dark circles under his eyes were long gone and he was joking around more with the guys and Mickey was pretty sure no, that’s how Rafe was.
And damn it, he liked it.
He liked the wide-eyed way Rafe watched him and his slow smile when something finally clicked and while it might have been a turn-off to a lot of people, it made Mickey want to wrap Rafe up andtake care of him.
And God help him, it seemed like Rafe was into having someone tell him what to do and Mickey was so fucking screwed it wasn’t even funny. Every time he tried to pull away a little, Rafe looked at him with those big, stupid brown cow eyes like he was sad, and Mickey crumpled.
Sure, Rafe, you can sit by me on the plane and the bus and move in with Tanner and me and spend every second of the season with me. Why not?Mickey thought semi-hysterically.We’ll be inseparable until the off-season, and I’ll go through fucking withdrawals over the Atlantic Ocean on the flight to Frankfurt.
And then he realized with horror how melodramatic he was being. Oh no, the North Americans were finally getting to him.
Something soft hit Mickey’s stomach and he let out a littleoof, sitting up to glare at Tanner who had apparently thrown a pillow at him.
“Dude. You’re boring. I’m going to see if anyone else wants to hang,” Tanner said. “See you later.”
Mickey scowled. “See you at dinner, asshole.”
After the door clicked shut behind Tanner, Mickey grabbed the pillow, jammed it against his face, and screamed into it.
It didn’t help anything, but he did feel slightly better by the time he pushed it away.
Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen talking.
CHAPTER TWELVE
At dinner, Rafe ended up sitting between Graham Pennington—the team’s alternate captain—and Connor O’Shea. He wasn’t quite sure how. He’d been angling for a spot next to Mickey, but he’d ended up a few chairs down somehow.
Whatever. It was fine.
Graham was nice too and asked Rafe some questions about his hockey career and told him about his own growing up in Pennsylvania. Connor spent a lot of time flirting with Jesse over the table and Rafe tried not to think about how that used to be him and Logan.
Or the fact it seemed like a terrible idea for the team captain and franchise goalie to be dating but what the fuck did he know?
Obviously, nothing.
So Rafe kept his mouth shut and ate his dinner. They were at a BBQ place of course. Because … Texas.
