Page 54 of Three Pucking Words
He nods. “They have the best chicken cutlets. I’ve tried making them on my own but can never make them taste the same.”
I grin, knowing that Manuel takes special pride in his cutlets. He calls them Italian delicacy. They use them in just about every chicken dish, whether it be chicken parmesan, pasta, or their poultry special of the day. “We’ll have to go sometime so you can tell Manny that yourself.”
The invitation comes out before I can think about it, and an easy, pleased smile forms on his face. “We should.”
Just as quickly as that smile appears, it slips a fraction when a new body drops into the spot beside Olive. “Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer apologizes in a gruff tone, pressing a kiss against Olive’s cheek.
I know who it is without asking.
It isn’t the way her eyes light up when he pecks her cheek that gives his identity away, or the way his chair slides closer to hers like he wants to be as close as possible to her. Despite the love between them being absorbable in the atmosphere, it’s the way Bodhi’s arm flexes behind me, then relaxes that gives his identity away.
This is Alexander O’Conner.
“Hey,” Bodhi greets first, tipping his head in Alex’s direction. “Good game, dude.”
It’s a pleasant greeting. One that Bodhi seems genuine about. But there’s something in his eyes that goes beyond friendly competition—a wariness that doesn’t sit right with me. Is he…jealous? Does that makemejealous?
Fake date,I remind myself, when that green monster settles into my chest like an unwelcome nuisance.
“Thanks,” Alex replies, taking a sip of the untouched water at his place. “Congrats on the win. We almost had you.”
They were 0-0 up until the last ten minutes. I may not know a lot about the sport, but I knew it was a game that was about to go down in history because of how well each team played. I’d even been a little mesmerized by the players on the ice, nearly forgetting to capture them until Karina hastily reminded me to focus on my current task when I’d seen Bodhi flying by me to work the right side of the rink.
It’s Sebastian who says, “I almost pissed myself thinking we were going into overtime with no score on the board. The way we all played, I wasn’t sure if they’d call it.”
Alex chuckles, extending an arm on the back of Olive’s chair the same way Bodhi does with mine. It looks a subconscious move on his part, so I wonder what the motive is with the man sitting beside me. “I think that sentiment was felt on both sides.”
Bodhi finishes his water and sits back. “Who are you up against next?” he asks Alex, his voice even and casual. There’s no tension in it like I expect there to be. In fact, his body relaxes as he settles into his chair, and I feel the subtle brush of his fingertips against my right arm. Does he know he’s touching me?
Olive slides the canister of water that our waiter left in the middle of the table over to Bodhi to refill his cup. “We travel to Florida next week and then have a home game against the Bruins a few days after that.”
Guess I know what Max will be up to next week since he’ll be rooting for his favorite team. I do my best not to let my brow twitch at the thought of him.
Olive’s attention slides back to me. “How do you like working for the team?”
“It’s…” I wet my lips, trying to come up with the best way to describe it. “Interesting,” I settle on, cringing at how unconvincing that sounds.
Thankfully, she smiles. “Based on the people my brother calls friends, I’m not surprised. The guys will keep you on your toes.” She playfully elbows Sebastian and grins at Bodhi from across the table. “Do you see your dad a lot there?”
Her easy line of questioning allows the conversation to flow but makes me feel bad for not returning the favor. It isn’t because I’m not interested. Social interactions have never come particularly easy for me. Pair my natural awkwardness withBodhi’s fingers tracing absentminded lines on the side of my arm, and my brain all but short circuits.
“We don’t see each other that much at the stadium,” I tell her, clearing my throat. I silently will myself to move or will Bodhi to stop. I don’t do either, though. “I’m sure that will be different when we start traveling to away games.”
Which is next week.
First stop, California.
Then, Washington.
Which means a lot of potential one-on-one time with not only my father, but Bodhi. He’s already told me he’d save me a seat on the plane, not that I think it’s up to him who sits where. It’s a nice thought. Not because sitting next to my father would be that torturous since we’ve started having dinner together at least twice a week, but because the idea of being next to Bodhi for that long sounds…nice.
Maybetoonice.
Especially if the faintest touch of his fingertips is…oh my God.Are my nipples hard right now? They are. Bodhi Hoffman is making my nipples hard by a simple caress of my bicep.
I’m pathetic. Horny and pathetic.
The rest of dinner seemingly goes well, with conversations about travel schedules melding into the teams they look forward to going against compared to the ones they’re loathing to see. Olive asks me a few more questions about myself, like how I met Bodhi, where I lived before moving back, and how I like it here, earning a confused look from Sebastian and a blank one from Bodhi, and eventually gave me a hug in parting when dinner was over.
