Page 3 of Truce: Declan
"Come on," he says and ushers me through the hallways to a locked door. He retrieves an electronic keycard from his wallet and opens the door. The lights automatically flip on, and I take in the sight. It's not the first time that I've been behind the scenes of a locker room or the inside of a stadium. But this isn't the locker room or the equipment room.
There's a coffee bar against the wall and wooden tables set up for seating. On the wall are photographs of the players during different games, and there are press articles framed that gloat about the Ice Dragons winning the Stanley Cup two years in a row. There are signed jerseys from past players affixed behind glass cases on the opposite wall.
"The staff, agents, and sometimes the press use the coffee bar for interviews," Noah says.
"I thought this was acoffee date, not an interview," I say with a smirk.
Noah chuckles. "I promise, I'm not interrogating you like some of the press like to do. I just thought you might like to see where I work."
He heads straight to the coffee bar and grabs a mug. "What can I get you? Everything here is automatic. There's a cappuccino, latte, coffee, or I can make you an iced or blended ice coffee drink."
"Do you moonlight as a barista?" I tease.
"How'd you guess? What will it be?"
"A cappuccino sounds wonderful."
He prepares a cappuccino, working the machine like an expert while I head toward one of the tables to sit. Within a matter of minutes, he comes over, bringing two steaming mugs for the two of us to drink.
"I feel like I should be tipping you," I joke as he carefully places the mugs on the table.
He smiles and takes a sip of his drink, not answering me.
"When you suggested acoffee date, this was the furthest thought on my mind."
"Good," Noah says. "I aim to impress."
I take a sip of the piping hot drink. "Let me guess, competitive by nature."
"It goes with the sport. You're a gorgeous girl. I'd be foolish to think this was your first date. I wanted to make it clear what I have to offer."
"Backstage access to a coffee bar?" I grin, staring up at him. "You don't have to try and impress me. Just look at you." I wave my hand at him.
He's seated beside me at the small wooden table. "I could say the same about you." Noah tilts his head, staring at me. He ticks his fingers like checkboxes as he goes through the list. "Smart, ambitious, funny, gorgeous."
"That's only four things." I nod toward his thumb, that's still bent. "What do you like to do for fun? Aside from playing ice hockey?"
"Have you ever played?" he asks.
"I may have dabbled in it when I was younger." I don't mention that when I say younger, it was only a few years ago. I played ice hockey in high school, and we made it to state and won. I'm underestimating my skill level, mostly because he's a professional hockey player. With anyone else, I'd be bragging, but it doesn't feel right.
His eyes twinkle. "Finish your coffee, then you're borrowing a pair of skates, and we're going out on the ice."
Twenty minutes later, I've got a pair of ice skates tied up and secured around my ankles. He hands me a hockey stick and takes one of his own, along with a puck.
My leather skirt is shorter than I'd like for a little ice hockey action, but I appreciate the leather jacket because it's chilly.
I'm effortlessly gliding on the ice, which I'm sure won't be appreciated come morning, but don't they have to Zamboni the ice before a game anyhow?
There are two goals, one at each end of the ice arena.
"Visitors can go first," he says, like he's doing me a favor as he tosses the puck in my direction. It glides across the ice.
I bite down on my tongue, and I skate along the ice, using the hockey stick to maneuver the puck past Noah for the goal.
He's either ill-prepared or completely stunned that I know how to play. Maybe he's letting me score, but that doesn't seem like the Noah I've watched at the Ice Dragons games.
Is he distracted?
