Page 74 of Lucky Shot
I hand her a coffee, which softens her scowl slightly.
“Thank you.”
“Welcome.”
We drive to the rink in silence. She sips her coffee, and I steal glances at her, trying to wrap my head around this version of Ruby.
Once we arrive, I lead her inside but bypass our usual route. She brightens slightly, like she’s shifted into work-mode. Maybe like hockey makes me less grumpy, writing makes her happier.
“Aren’t we going down to the ice?” she asks.
“Yeah, but I want to show you something first.”
She nods, expression shifting back to…grumpy. The idea that Ruby Madison could be genuinely grumpy is mind-boggling.
I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I pick up my pace, taking her through the building until we reach the rec area. It’s a big, open space that’s most often used for stretching and soccer before games.
In the corner a hockey net is set up. I grab two sticks, and I find a few pucks waiting in the goal.
Ruby gives me a questioning gaze as I hand her one of the sticks but doesn’t ask what we’re doing. She’s frowning and she’s silent. Yep, something is definitely wrong. I’ve wracked my brain the past few days for what publishing drama could mean but…I have no idea.
I drop a puck in front of her. She eyes it but still doesn’t ask or say anything.
“Do you remember how to hit a slap shot?”
She gives me a very uninspired nod and I step back to give her room.
Pride zips through me as she adjusts her grip and stance, then fires the puck into the net. The sound of it hitting the wall echoes in the space. Ruby’s eyes light up.
Silently, I toss another puck in front of her. She hits this one with a little more fire than the last.
I keep going and so does she. Toss, shoot, toss, shoot. The only noise is the puck hitting the floor and then the back of the wall. Over and Over. I don’t stop until she does.
The smile she aims my way makes my chest tighten.
“Better than throwing rocks into the lake?”
“So much better.” Her shoulders sag as she breathes heavily. “I think it’s the sound that was missing. I might need to get a setup like this in my next apartment.”
She waves the stick around, nearly hitting herself in the head with it in the process. I take it from her and lean it against the wall, then pull out a couple chairs from nearby.
She grabs her coffee and laptop then takes a seat across from me, still catching her breath. “I think I understand now why you’re obsessed with hockey.”
“Obsessed?”
“Aren’t you?”
I think about that for a second and then shrug. “Maybe. No more than the average person is with their career probably.”
“I’m not sure most people would do their job even if they weren’t getting paid.”
“Fair.” I smile at her. “Would you?”
“I would still write, for sure, but I wouldn’t publish it.”
“Why not?”
