Page 1 of Overtime Goal
1/
riley
Holky wasmid-rant about the size of his steak when he elbowed me in the ribs. “Let her set your plates down.”
Logan and I had been so busy talking about the game, I hadn’t noticed the server waiting behind me with our food.
“You two want your own table or what?” Holky asked, grinning like a jackass.
“Fuck you.” Logan waved him off. “I can barely hear Riles, and he’s sitting right next to me.”
“That’s weird,” Gabe said. “You’re hearing us fine now.”
Holky snorted beer out of his nose, and Dog nearly choked on a chip. I focused on my plate and dug in, remembering I had enchiladas to eat and a reputation to maintain.
We’d played the Thunder earlier and squeaked out a 4–3 overtime win, then got stuck in Dallas thanks to some mechanical fuckery with the team plane. While the logistics crew hauled our bags to the hotel, the bus detoured to Mendoza’s, our favorite spot in town.
Beer, chips, and Tex-Mex food were exactly what we needed. The boys were yelling their heads off to be heard over the crowd while I tried to keep things normal. For me, a big part of“normal” was picking up women, whether I was in the mood or not.
When the server returned with drinks, I turned on a fuckboy grin and leaned back in my chair. “Hey, quick question. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I skate by again?”
She didn’t even blink while she set Logan’s margarita down and gave me a flat smile. “I believe in gratuity. You planning to tip twenty percent, or should I walk by again?”
The guys lost it. Holky practically fell out of his chair, and when he stopped laughing, he gave me another smartass grin. “Buddy. She dangled you and toe-dragged straight past.”
Logan looked over, lips twitching. “Add that to your highlight reel. Right under ‘missed empty net.’”
“You gonna be okay?” Dog asked. “Or should we order an emotional support queso?”
The only thing I could do was bluff, so I held up my beer and grinned. “I regret nothing. Except maybe sitting here with you clowns.”
I was on the spot, nothing new for someone who wasn’t exactly known for thinking things through. Though I’d been hoping the server wouldn’t bite, I hadn’t counted on the smackdown or the chirp-storm that followed. Now, the boys were watching like I was on pay-per-view.
Fine. If they wanted a show, I’d give them one. My gaze drifted to the bar, and there she was: gorgeous brunette, mid-laugh, eyes daring the bartender to ask for her number.
I nudged Holky. “Three o’clock. Absolute smokeshow. I’m going in, so if I don’t come back, you’ll know I died doing what I love.”
“Yeah, good luck.”
Dog glanced at the bar, then at me. “Are you talking about the woman with the inflatable flamingo purse or the guy in the Thunder jersey?”
I glared at him like the traitor he was. “Wow. Zero faith in my radar. She’s the one with the black dress, big boobs, and ponytail. Laughing at the bartender’s jokes like they’re funny.”
Holky snorted. “So you’re jealous of the bartender?”
“I’m inspired,” I said. “Give me two minutes.”
I stood and adjusted my shirt. At the bar, I sidled up next to the brunette, asked the bartender for a Dos Equis, and turned to her. “Hey. I was wondering… Are you emotionally available and into guys who play professional hockey?”
She sighed as her lips curved downward. “I’m married.”
I glanced at her hand. No ring.
“To the bartender,” she said.
Right on cue, he reappeared and set the beer in front of me. “That’ll be seven-fifty. And we both skate better than you.”
I held up my hands. “Understood. Respectfully retreating.” I tossed a ten on the bar and walked away, forgetting the damn beer.
