Page 63 of Slew Foot
“Yeah, now that we’ve got the defense covered.” Under the table, Rafe nudged him with his foot and grinned again.
Surprised, Mickey grinned back. Unlike Tanner and Jesse, Rafe wasn’t particularly egotistical. He was more of a humble guy who put the team first and always credited his teammates.
But confidence was a good look on him too.
The waitress arrived a short while later and they turned down dessert although Mickey could tell Rafe was tempted by the salted caramel apple crisp. Mickey paid for dinner, then tried not to stare at Rafe’s ass in his tailored trousers and sleek leather jacket as they left the restaurant.
Rafe was surprisingly stylish.
Mickey didn’t know why he assumed Rafe wouldn’t be—only maybe Ontario and Minnesota weren’t exactly known for being the heights of fashion. But Rafe consistently wore nicely tailored suits and well-cut clothing that looked incredible on him.
Sure, to and from the rink for practices, he was as fond of sweats as the next guy. But any time he went out to do anything else, he made an effort.
It was, to be frank, devastating.
Out on the street, Mickey tugged a hat and gloves on. It was snowing a little, soft, fluffy flakes that drifted down and landed on Rafe’s dark hair, bright for a few moments until they began to soften and melt.
“Do you want to take a walk?” Mickey blurted out.
Rafe looked surprised but nodded. “Sure.”
Growing up, Mickey had found nights like this magical and even now, a quiet, snowy city street would never get old.
They had only gone a few steps before Mickey realized what a terrible mistake he’d made. An evening stroll in softly falling snow after a nice dinner together …
Fucking brilliant, Krause,he told himself.
Someone should examine his head. Perhaps they’d find nothing at all where his brain was supposed to be, except for a mess of hockey plays and horny thoughts about Rafe.
“This is nice,” Rafe said a few moments later. “I love the snow.”
“Yeah?” Mickey asked.
“Yeah. It always feels magical. I remember playing shinny with other kids in the neighborhood and playing in the snow was the best.”
“Shinny?” Mickey asked because asking about words he didn’t recognize was easier than thinking about Rafe calling snow magical too. Otherwise, he’d start thinking about idiotic things like he and Rafe being made for each other.
Which was nonsense of course. Even if it felt like it sometimes.
“Uhh … shinny is a pickup outdoor hockey game,” Rafe said. “One of the neighbors had a homemade rink in the backyard and a bunch of us would show up there after school. It wasn’t organized or anything. Just fun.”
“I understand now,” Mickey said. “That does sound fun.”
“And sometimes we’d come out again after dinner and play for a bit. It was the best when it was dark and snowing …” Rafe slowed to a stop and tilted his head back, staring up at the sky, an expression of pure happiness on his face.
“That sounds wonderful.” Mickey suddenly ached to know what a younger Rafe had looked like. Had he been big for his age even then? Or had he had a sudden growth spurt later?
Rafe dropped his chin, turning a devastating smile on him. “It was. I never wanted to go inside. My dad used to have to come drag me home so I could warm up with some hot cocoa and get to bed.”
“You haven’t mentioned your family a whole lot,” Mickey said carefully, because he wasn’t sure if it was a tricky subject or not. He had gone home for bye week to see them and talked about knitting his new nephew a hat so presumably they got along well but …
“Oh!” If possible, Rafe’s smile brightened even more. “They’re great. My parents and sisters are all in the Windsor area so I got to see everyone on the break.”
“Are they older or younger?” Mickey asked, starting to walk again.
“Younger than me.” Rafe fell into step beside him.
“Mine too. Clara is fifteen and Lena is thirteen.”
