Page 30 of The Pucker and the Princess
Another woman corrals two young children near the chairs, though the little boy—the younger of the two by the looks of it—seems to be having a hard time, fussing and whiningand flopping around while his sister watches, eyes wide. They provoke several annoyed looks from the group of women, but the mother ignores them, which makes me wonder if this is a regular occurrence.
The area slowly fills in with more and more people, and after a bit, players start to come out in ones and twos, some of them taking off on their own, others meeting up with their friends or family members who are waiting for them.
Dozer comes out alongside one of his teammates. His teammate claps him on the shoulder before heading for the woman and two kids I saw earlier. Dozer hesitates, scanning the crowd.
Lifting my hand, I wave a little to get his attention, and his face lights up when he spots me. He weaves past the group of sleek women, ignoring the way they try to get his attention, his focus entirely on me.
It’s … thrilling. In a way I probably shouldn’t admit. Definitely not out loud, and barely even in the quiet, secret parts of myself.
But when is the last time anyone’s face lit up like that at the sight of me?
Has anyone ever looked that happy to see me?
I can’t think of a time, though surely when Peter and I first got together and we were in the thrall of young love, he was excited to see me …
It’s possible that teenage me didn’t pay attention to it.
But it’s also possible that he was never as excited to see me as Dozer is.
His grin stretches across his face as he stops in front of me. “You made it! And you wore your sweatshirt.”
“I did! I told you I was excited to wear it. Thank you again.”
His smile turns a little bashful. “You might’ve just wanted to be polite. Not everyone means the things they say.”
Hooking my mouth to the side, I contemplate that, studying him as I do. I’m guessing he has lots of experience with people saying one thing to his face but acting totally differently. As many frustrating things as there were with my relationship with Peter, he at least didn’t do that. The hope I held onto for years was more my own self-delusion than anything else. Sure, he’d sometimes placate me by making vague statements about maybe someday he’d be ready instead of outright saying he never wanted to get married. But the reality was clear if I’d only had the courage to look at it sooner.
“If I say I’m excited about something, I always mean it.” I hold up my hands, palms out. “I won’t deny that I sometimes say what I need to in order to diffuse an awkward or unpleasant situation, but even then, I wouldn’t outright lie about being excited or something.”
He releases a breath, his shoulders relaxing, and he nods toward the exit. “Should we head out? I was thinking we could hit the Salty Salmon again. Is that okay with you?”
“Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Dozer
I holdthe door for Marissa to exit, and she smiles at me like simple courtesy is thrilling for her.
Or maybe it’s being with me that’s the thrill.
Is it because she knows I’m a pro hockey player? I mean, yeah, she knew before. But now she’sseenit. Maybe now she’ll want me for my fame and money instead of myself.
I swat those thoughts away because she’s done nothing so far to indicate that’s the case. I can watch for signs without assuming the worst, can’t I?
The bartender nods a greeting when Marissa and I walk in, and we make a beeline to the reserved booths in the back corner where a few of my teammates are rehashing the game over drinks.
It’s interesting how the makeup of the groups here have changed. When the team started up here a few years ago, half the team would come out. Now it’s just the over-thirty guyswho don’t have families and don’t want to go clubbing with the twenty-somethings.
How did I become part of the old guys club?
Would Marissa prefer a club instead of the old guys’ bar?
A glance her way doesn’t reveal much. But she meets my gaze with a smile that looks sincere. “You sure this is okay?” I ask, even though she seemed to agree happily not that long ago.
Her smile turns slightly questioning, and she nods. “Yeah. This is great. This place has a chill vibe, and I like that.”
We sit at a table—the booths are occupied—and I pull out her chair for her. “You sure you wouldn’t rather go to a club or something?”
