Page 10 of Wilder Puck
This makes him smile, and I’m happy for it. I pat his chest and then shake his shoulders. “Ryan, it’s just another job. It’s not the end of the world. I’m completely capable.” He’s about to argue, so I shush him with my finger. “Ah, Ry, please, don’t offer me any money because I will not be taking it from you. This is what it’s like to be an adult, and I’m figuring it out. I can’t come to your game because I’m starting a new job. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it.”
A different look takes over his face. He forgot that’s how this conversation started. Before he can say anything, I’m already on it. “You’re the China Wall in the NHL. A puck? It’s meant to go into the net, and it’s okay if it gets past you. You forget who you are sometimes, Ryan Wilder.”
He looks like he has other things on his mind as he looks up at me. He offers a quick smile.
“Now, get home because you smell like you need a shower.”
He chuckles. “I put on like five layers of cologne before I came here.”
“Exactly,” I say.
“Is that why you don’t want to live with me?”
I glare at him, pressing my lips together.
His eyes stare straight into mine. “Move in with me, Baddie.”
His nickname for me is iconic. He gave it to me on a friendly drunk night and it stuck. Now that I have the coffee shop, which he helped name, everyone in town calls me Baddie Addie.
“Let it go,” I scold him. “Plus, I’m going to have so much fun at my new job.”
“Shit,” he mutters. “Where is it?”
I smile. “I have that regular who comes in. Mr. Taylor? Yeah, he owns the sports bar downtown.”
He shakes his head. “A bar? Of sports?”
I shrug, smiling. “I’m good at making drinks. What can I say?”
He looks like he could throw up.
Chapter 4
That’s the last thing I wanted to hear. I could stomach it if Addison had a date with Jacob or a business meeting for another opening at another location, but a new job? At a bar? A sports bar? I have to put an end to this, or she’ll never be able to attend my games ever again.
“Baddie,” I say. “Move in with me.”
She shakes her head, clearly annoyed. She turns me around, using my shoulders to guide my body. “You will never say those words again, or I will not be your friend.”
“Really?” I chuckle sarcastically. “Oh, that’s an empty threat.”
“Ah!” she says, covering my mouth with her hand. “Don’t say it. I will block you on my phone and I will change the lock on my door.”
My eyes dart to hers as I slowly stick my tongue out and lick her palm.
“Ew!” she scoffs, stopping me at the front door. She wipes her hand on my shirt, and I stay still as she uses my abs like a washboard.
I disregard the warmth on my stomach that makes my insides cry for more as I ask, “Are you kicking me out right now?”
She removes her hand from these rock-hard abs and nods. “You need to shower and hit the hay.”
“Can’t I just shower here?” I ask.
Her expression softens. “If you want to, sure. But let me check the bathroom first.”
Addie disappears down the hall and my mind wanders back in time to the night freshman year when Addie told me about her mom.
We were studying in my dorm, textbooks and papers spread out, an empty pizza box on the floor. Somehow the topic of family came up and Addie got quiet. It was obvious that something wasn’t right as I talked about my family. She barely asked any questions.
