Page 6 of Yo Ho Ho
Max nodded. "I'll give him some cash later."
She turned and walked her ass back to their table while Logan could only stare at her. She really was going to stick to her line about ethics just to avoid him, wasn't she? Of course, knowing Max, it wasn't a line. She took her job seriously. She took covering this team seriously. Logan would just have to accept that she was shutting him out. Again.
He finally caught up with her as she took a seat at their table and handed Bob his drink. Logan grabbed an extra chair that was sitting across from Max. He couldn't sleep with her, but he could definitely enjoy a little banter before he went back to his hotel room alone.
"So Logan," Bob said. "Settle a debate for us. Who's the best defenseman on the ice right now?"
"Besides me?"
Max rolled her eyes again. "Besides you," she said definitely. "Charlie says it's some guy up in Toronto, and Bob won't answer the question because no current defenseman is as good as Bobby Orr."
"And I stand by that!" Bob said, raising his glass in an old-school salute.
Logan couldn't help but smile before Max started rattling off stats from some of the defensemen in the league. He could do this all night — debate hockey with some real hockey people — as long as one of them was the brown-eyed woman sitting across from him listening to his every word. Even if she insisted she would never sleep with him again.
Chapter 3
Road trips could get monotonous sometimes. Same cities, same hotels, same people. Sometimes the monotony needed to be broken up with a little fun or some down time, which is how Max ended up at the swanky cocktail bar with two of her favorite media guys and a handful of hockey players. Sure, it was the same people in the same cities but at least the setting had slightly changed.
Plus, they were all on their third drinks. What started out as a debate about the best defenseman in the league had evolved into some kind of argument about which company made the best sticks, the superiority of Russian vodka over Swedish vodka, horror stories from the minor leagues, and the best way to get rid of a clingy puck bunny.
"Tell her you're going to be on the road for the next six weeks," Charlie suggested.
"Won't work," Alex said. "Tried it. She'll just want to come on the road with you."
"Concussion-like symptoms erased my memory a few times," Matt said.
Max's glass stopped right before it touched her lips. "Did that really happen?"
"Nope, but it's believable enough."
"Probably because goalies have a few screws lose already, which is why they voluntary wear all that equipment," Charlie replied.
Alex scoffed at him. "The heaviest equipment you use is a typewriter."
"We don't use those anymore," Charlie muttered.
Max sat back and smiled, completely entertained as these grown adults continued to tease each other. One of the reasons she thought this team was working so well together on the ice right now was because they worked so well together off of it. This was the perfect example. The fact that they could even roll with the punches teasingly thrown at them by a few reporters just proved how cohesive they really were.
Of course, it was also bittersweet. This is what she missed about playing hockey. High school boys could be ruthless, but she could hold her own against them and they could hold their own against her. Well, she could hold her own until they were physically stronger than her and she couldn't compete with them anymore.
"Hey, Logan! What's your excuse?"
All eyes, including Max's, turned to the defenseman who was staring back at Matt.
"What's my excuse for what?"
"What do you do to get rid of a puck bunny?"
Max froze, trying but miserably failing at her attempt to not stare at him. She had no idea what he was about to say. And did he think she was a puck bunny? Or did he even think about their night together at all? Because while it was hard to forget, Max had made it clear it was a one-time thing, and that it couldn't happen again.
She grabbed her glass and tried to casually take a sip, hoping Logan's answer wouldn't be about that night. It would be fine. He wouldn't even…
"Just tell her it was a mistake. She won't be back."
He remembered. Oh, he definitely remembered. Max tried to casually glance at him, his head dropping as his fingers played with the rim of his own glass while the rest of the table sat uncomfortably quiet.
And then Alex spoke. "That's the dumbest answer I've ever heard. No woman would back off after that."
